kittytehe

[kittytehe]

On the way home from Bring Her Back

[kittytehe]

anyway reader who's super competitive at like every game in the pizzaplex but they pretend to be really bad at fazer blast bc they want freddy to teach them all romantic style. except one day they're not committing hard enough to the bit and they pull off an absolutely insane shot and freddy's just standing there like "hm." trying to figure out if they're just lucky or if they've been lying to spend time with him.

[kittytehe]

[kittytehe]

Crush

Pairing: College!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary:

Being roommates with Emma means inheriting her best friend, Leon Kennedy—the effortlessly hot, annoyingly charming guy who somehow keeps ending up on your couch, in your kitchen, and in your head. You try to play it cool (you fail). He tries to ignore how cute you are when you’re flustered (he fails harder). chaotic college romance where awkward crushes, subtle flirting, and oat milk theft lead to something much sweeter.

wordcount: - 1,350 words

You knew moving in with Emma meant her chaotic social life would become yours by association. You just hadn’t expected him—Leon Kennedy, golden boy, criminally attractive, and your roommate’s best friend since high school—to start hanging out at your apartment like it was his name on the lease.

He wasn’t even subtle. One day he was shirtless on your couch with a controller in hand, yelling at some alien invasion game. Another day he was in your kitchen, eating cereal straight from the box, asking if “almond milk expires or just gets weirder.”

You did your best to keep it together. But your brain did this thing where it stopped working any time he spoke directly to you.

"Hey, you always smell like vanilla or cookies. Is that...on purpose?"

You had stared at him for a beat too long before mumbling, “I'm a dessert in human form,” and then immediately walked into the doorframe.

Subtlety, thy name was not you.

The worst part? He noticed.

One evening, Leon plopped down on the couch beside you, stretching his arm casually along the back. “So, uh... Emma says you’re taking Psych 203. How’s learning about the human mind going?”

You looked up from your laptop, trying not to swoon over his stupidly perfect jawline.

“Fascinating. Did you know people with crushes tend to act like total idiots around the object of their affection?”

He smirked. “Yeah, I’d heard that. From... science.”

There was a pause.

A knowing pause.

“You’ve been acting kinda weird around me lately,” he said, leaning in slightly. “Any theories on that?”

Your brain sprinted through a thousand escape routes, but your mouth betrayed you: “Maybe you’re just so pretty it short-circuits my ability to function.”

Silence. You wanted to melt into the couch and become one with the upholstery.

Then, Leon laughed—warm and genuine. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.” He nudged your shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think your ‘idiot mode’ is kinda cute.”

You turned to him, eyes narrowing. “So you knew?”

He shrugged. “I had a hunch. Emma may have also texted me a play-by-play the night you called me ‘a tall glass of emergency services.’”

You groaned. “I meant to say ‘emergency snack.’”

“That’s... not better.”

Leon’s fingers brushed yours. Just lightly. Like he wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. You stared at your hands, frozen, your brain screaming this is not a drill.

“So,” he said, voice a little quieter, “what happens next in this whole 'crush’ science experiment?”

You blinked. “Well. Typically… the subject either flees or confesses.”

Leon nodded solemnly. “And which one are you feeling?”

“…somewhere between flight and total emotional combustion.”

He grinned, biting back a laugh. “You really do say the weirdest things when you’re flustered.”

“You’re not helping,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind it. He was still close. Still looking at you like he was memorizing your face.

“I’m actually trying to help,” he said, softer this time. “Because, truth is—I’ve kind of had a thing for you, too.”

You blinked. “Is this a prank? Because if Emma jumps out with a camera, I swear to—”

“No prank,” he said, laughing. “Though I’m sure Emma’s waiting in her room with popcorn.”

As if summoned by name, her door creaked open and she peeked out, phone in hand. “Is it happening? Did someone confess? Are you guys gonna kiss or what?”

Leon rolled his eyes but smiled. “Emma, go away.”

“I live here!”

“So does your best friend,” he said, nudging you. “And I’m trying to have a moment with them.”

Emma made a strangled squeal and shut the door with a dramatic thud.

The room went quiet again. Leon’s thumb lightly brushed your hand this time—definitely not an accident.

You smiled, cheeks warm. “So, you really like me?”

He shrugged, but his eyes were all sincerity. “I’m pretty sure I’ve liked you since the first time you yelled at me for drinking your oat milk. You called me ‘a menace with abs.’ It was… charming.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

“Nope,” he said, leaning in just a little more. “But I’d like to be around to keep quoting it back to you. If that’s okay.”

You looked up at him, heart pounding in the best way. “It’s more than okay.”

And when he kissed you—finally—Emma’s muffled cheer from behind the door didn’t even ruin it.

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

Leon’s POV – Three Days Earlier..

He wasn’t trying to fall for his best friend’s roommate. Really.

But the first time you mumbled something like “Leon Kennedy, walking thirst trap” under your breath—loud enough for him to hear as you tripped over your own shoelaces—something in his brain short-circuited.

He had smiled all the way home that night, even when he walked into a lamp post.

At first, he’d chalked it up to harmless flirting. A few jokes, some teasing, the occasional weirdly specific compliment (“Your hair looks like it belongs in a very clean action movie.” What did that mean?). But then he started noticing the little things.

Like how you always looked away when he caught you staring.

How you fidgeted when he sat too close.

How you always remembered how he liked his coffee, even though he’d only mentioned it once.

And how—when you laughed—it kind of echoed in his chest for longer than it should’ve.

That’s when he knew he was in trouble.

He tried playing it cool. Tried to act like he wasn’t low-key counting the days until Emma invited him over again. But then she caught him scrolling through your Instagram at work, and that was the end of that charade.

“You’re an idiot,” she told him. “They like you back, you know.”

Leon blinked. “What?”

“Leon. They call you things like ‘certified menace with a jawline’ when they think I’m not listening. Ask them out already.”

He spent two days psyching himself up. Day one: complete failure—he just asked if you had any ketchup. Day two: also a failure—he made it to the living room but chickened out and started a conversation about mushroom-based protein.

Day three, though? That was game day.

He flopped on the couch, started with casual banter, and fully expected to keep things surface-level until you dropped that whole “people act like idiots around their crushes” line.

His heart did something weird.

And when you called yourself a dessert?

Yeah. That was it. He knew he had to say something before he combusted—or kissed you mid-sentence, which, while tempting, might’ve been poor form.

But when you looked back at him with that hopeful, deer-in-headlights kind of smile?

He was gone.

Totally and completely.

[kittytehe]

In The Shadows Of Raccoon City

Summary: Raccoon City is falling apart. You, a skilled thief with a reputation for being uncatchable, are one of the few still navigating the streets—less out of courage, more because you have nowhere else to go. Leon S. Kennedy, rookie cop on his first day, has orders to bring you in… but right now, survival trumps justice. When fate throws the two of you together—cornered in a gun shop with the undead closing in—you’re forced into an uneasy alliance. You’ve got the knowledge of the city’s backstreets, and he’s got the firepower and the idealism you thought died long ago.

A/N: So this honestly stems away from the main storyline of the game, I suppose you could consider it an AU.

Word count: - 3,700

The streets of Raccoon City burned like a warning. Sirens wailed in the distance—some mechanical, some human. Smoke curled above rooftops, thick with the coppery sting of blood and something else—something rot-heavy and wrong. Every step echoed like a threat.

Leon S. Kennedy tightened his grip on the pistol in his hand. It was supposed to be his first day on the job. Instead, the city had drowned in chaos. The dead didn’t stay dead. The station was compromised. The rules he believed in were falling apart around him.

And somewhere out there, among the infected and the panicked survivors, was you—a name scribbled at the top of a crumpled wanted bulletin still stuffed in Leon’s back pocket.

Wanted for multiple counts of grand theft, breaking and entering, and suspected ties to arms trafficking. Not the kind of person a rookie officer was supposed to feel curious about.

But you weren’t just another criminal—you were a shadow in Raccoon City, someone who knew the streets better than anyone, someone who always slipped past the net. And Leon had been told, by more than one superior before the radio went dead, "If you see them, don’t hesitate.”

But he’d hesitate the first time.

And now he was paying for it.

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

You didn’t trust cops. You trusted instincts, exits, and silence. That had kept you alive long before the city started coughing up its dead.

You were crouched inside a looted convenience store when you first heard his footsteps—measured, too calm for a looter, too heavy for a runner. You had your knife drawn before he reached the doorway.

Then you saw him.

Leather jacket torn at the shoulder, dirt smudged across his cheek, but still trying to look like a damn boy scout in hell. Leon Kennedy. The rookie with a reputation for idealism, and the one person in Raccoon City who looked at you like you were still human.

“You,” he said, gun rising slowly, “are under arrest.”

You blinked at him. Then at the horde groaning just down the block.

“Are you serious right now?”

Leon flinched as glass shattered outside. Moans. Claws scraping brick. He didn’t lower his gun.

“You’re a wanted criminal,” he said. “I don’t get to ignore that.”

“No,” you said, pushing up from your crouch and stepping into the light, “but you do get to die in the street if you don’t follow me.”

He hesitated again. And again, it nearly cost him.

A zombie lurched through the store’s broken door, snarling. You didn’t wait. You threw your knife with practiced force, the blade sinking through the eye socket. It fell, twitching.

Leon looked at the body. Then at you.

“Five seconds,” you said. “That’s how long it takes before more come. Are you arresting me or running with me?”

He swallowed. Lowered his gun.

“Running.”

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

The city pulsed like a dying heart. You led him through broken alleys, ducking through fences and over half-collapsed scaffolding. He followed, wordless, except for the occasional gasp of breath or curse under his breath. You admired that. Most people panicked. Cried. Begged.

He moved like a soldier, even if his badge said otherwise.

Finally, you ducked into a boarded-up safehouse—one of yours. The moment the door slammed shut behind you, the sound of the undead faded, muffled by heavy steel and reinforced walls. You flicked on a dim, battery-powered lantern.

Leon leaned against the door, breathing hard. You watched him quietly.

“I should cuff you,” he said, voice low. “You know that.”

You shrugged. “Sure. And then what? March me to jail through a city of corpses?”

Silence stretched between you. You could hear his conscience grinding.

“I don’t kill people,” he said finally, almost to himself. “I don’t let criminals go. That’s not—who I am.”

You crossed your arms, gaze fixed on him. “And what are you now, Leon? A cop in a city without laws? Or a man trying not to die?”

He looked at you then. Really looked. Something flickered in his expression. Not pity—never that. Something else. Something warmer, despite the sweat on his brow and the blood on his shirt.

“You saved my life back there.”

“Don’t read into it.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You sighed and turned away, rummaging through your stash. Food. Ammo. A clean cloth for the cut on your leg. You could feel his eyes on you still.

After a while, he spoke again, softer.

“What were you doing before all this? Before the world went to hell.”

You glanced over your shoulder. Smirked.

“Stealing from people who deserved it.”

Leon’s brow furrowed. “That’s not how the law works.”

You stepped closer, challenging him.

“Tell me, officer—how is the law working out there?”

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

The night stretched long, though neither of you could afford sleep. Raccoon City didn’t rest. It scratched and howled and bled outside your little pocket of safety.

Leon sat near the doorway, one hand on his pistol, the other clutching a cracked police radio that buzzed only static. You cleaned a wound above your knee, biting back a hiss as the alcohol sizzled into raw flesh. He glanced over at the sound but said nothing.

Eventually, you broke the silence.

“Are you planning to stare a hole through that door all night?”

“I’m thinking,” he said.

“Dangerous pastime.”

His eyes flicked to you, weary but alert. “I’m trying to figure out why you saved me.”

You tied the bandage off and leaned back against the wall. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

You studied him. He meant it—too much, maybe. Leon Kennedy was a man in a world that didn’t have room for people like him anymore. The kind who still believed in saving people, in right and wrong. But you could see it now—behind his eyes, cracks were forming.

“Maybe I just hate watching good people die,” you said, quieter.

Leon didn’t reply at first. Then he said, “You don’t seem like a killer.”

You laughed once, bitter. “That’s the funny thing about labels. ‘Criminal’ covers a lot of sins, but not all of them are bloody.”

He looked at you, thoughtful. “Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Why the record? Why the reputation?”

You paused. The truth wasn’t something you handed out. But this city—it had a way of dragging honesty out of people when survival was the only thing left.

“Someone had to take care of people like me. People who slipped through the cracks. I did that, in my way. Took from the powerful, gave to the forgotten. Got burned in the process.”

Leon nodded slowly. “So a vigilante, not a villain.”

You raised a brow. “Don’t romanticize it. I stole things. Broke laws. Lied. Ran. And if I hadn’t, I’d be dead or worse.”

Another silence stretched between you. This one wasn’t heavy. Just… real.

Then a sound outside—a sharp clatter, followed by a low groan. You both moved at once, weapons raised, breath held.

Leon crept to the window, peered through the slats. “One of them. Just one—for now.”

You loaded your pistol and joined him. “Time to move?”

He nodded. “We can’t stay. Not with blood on the door. They’ll smell it.”

You packed quickly, shoving supplies into your bag. Leon grabbed what he could, including a city map you’d marked with red ink. Your escape routes. Your secrets. You saw him glance at it—and hesitate.

“You trust me enough to bring me along,” he said, “but not enough to tell me where we’re going?”

You met his gaze. “Trust gets people killed.”

“Maybe,” he said, voice low. “But so does being alone.”

You stopped. That hit somewhere deep, where you didn’t want to feel it. You hated how sincere he sounded. How tired.

You handed him the map.

He took it, gently, like it meant something.

---

The two of you moved through the sewers beneath Raccoon City, your flashlight beam slicing through the dark like a blade. The air reeked of mildew and rot. Leon followed close, covering your back.

“I hate this place,” he muttered.

“I hate this city,” you replied.

“Fair.”

He slipped once, nearly face-planting into murky water. You reached out without thinking, grabbing his jacket and pulling him back up. His breath caught—so did yours.

“Thanks,” he said, voice quieter.

You didn’t let go immediately. Neither did he.

Then you both stepped apart, saying nothing.

The tunnel eventually opened into an old maintenance room—a temporary shelter, safe enough for now. You collapsed onto a crate while Leon checked the locks.

You watched him move. Efficient. Exhausted. Determined.

“Why are you still trying so hard?” you asked suddenly. “To protect a city that’s already dead?”

He turned to you. “Because if I don’t try, who will?”

You shook your head. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Maybe. But I’d rather die trying to save someone than live doing nothing.”

That shouldn’t have meant anything to you. But it did. Because no one ever tried to save you.

You stood and crossed the room slowly. “What if saving someone meant breaking the rules you live by?”

Leon didn’t flinch. “Then maybe the rules are broken.”

His voice cracked a little. He looked tired in a way you recognized. Not physically—spiritually. Like the truth was finally starting to win against the badge.

You reached out, hesitant. “Leon…”

He looked at you, and for a long moment, neither of you moved. His fingers brushed yours.

Then the radio crackled.

“Leon—Kennedy? This is Officer Marvin Branagh—cshh—survivors… station—urgent…”

Leon stepped back, grabbing the radio. His eyes went wide. “Marvin? Marvin, I’m here—what survivors? Are you safe?”

“…need backup—infected inside—get to the station if you can—bring anyone still breathing—kzzt…”

Static.

Leon stared at the device. His jaw clenched.

“They’re still alive. Some of them.”

You exhaled. “Then you’re going back?”

He nodded. “I have to. I can’t leave them.”

You looked at him. Really looked. And finally said what you’d been avoiding.

“Then take me with you.”

His eyes searched yours. “You sure? This isn't just about survival anymore. If we go there, and they see you…”

“They’ll shoot,” you said. “I know.”

He stepped closer. “I can protect you. I will protect you.”

You smiled, just a little. “That’s a dangerous promise, Officer Kennedy.”

He reached up, brushed a strand of grime-matted hair from your cheek.

“So are you.”

----

The rain started as you neared the precinct. Cold needles from a black sky, washing the blood off Leon’s jacket, soaking through yours. The kind of rain that could almost make the world feel clean again.

Almost.

The Raccoon City Police Department loomed like a graveyard wrapped in stone. The front steps were stained red. Doors barricaded. Windows shattered. The dead had been here. Maybe they still were.

Leon moved with purpose, leading you around back through a side entrance only cops knew. You watched his body shift into alertness—shoulders tense, eyes scanning, finger ready on the trigger. The boy scout was gone. This was the man the city had carved from fire and rot.

Inside, the halls were dark. A few candles flickered in distant corners. Shouts echoed from somewhere upstairs. Gunfire. The stink of decay clung to everything.

You barely stepped in before a voice rang out:

“Don’t move!”

Two officers—young, terrified—had guns trained on you the second the light caught your face. Your hand twitched toward your weapon, but Leon stepped between.

“Wait—she’s with me!” he shouted.

“She’s a criminal!” one of them snapped. “She’s wanted! You know who that is, Kennedy?”

Leon stood tall. “I do. And she saved my life. You want to survive tonight? You trust me.”

The other officer hesitated. “Marvin’s hurt—real bad. We’ve got barely any ammo. If she tries anything—”

“She won’t,” Leon said. Then, glancing at you, “Will you?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words. You just raised your hands and stepped past them.

The station had become a tomb. Broken glass. Blood-slick tiles. Survivors huddled in corners, whispering prayers. Marvin Branagh lay on a stretcher, face pale and soaked in sweat. When he saw Leon, his expression softened.

“You made it,” he rasped. “And… her?”

Leon nodded. “She’s not what the report says.”

Marvin chuckled, then coughed blood. “Neither are you anymore, rookie.”

You helped them barricade doors. Reinforce windows. Shared supplies from your bag—medicine, bullets, food. Every eye stayed on you, some suspicious, some grateful. You were the criminal who knew how to survive, and suddenly, that made you valuable.

Night crept in. The howls outside grew louder.

And then… the barricade failed.

They came through in a flood—screaming, gnashing, relentless.

Chaos erupted.

You fired until your clip was empty, then switched to your knife, taking down two infected with swift, brutal stabs. Leon fought like a man possessed, covering the weaker officers, dragging injured back behind the final line of defense.

Then a scream—Marvin, cornered.

You ran. Without thinking. Without hesitation.

Shoved the infected off him, took the bite to your arm, and stabbed it through the skull.

Blood. Pain. Burning.

You looked down. Your sleeve was torn. Skin shredded. Already starting to gray.

Leon saw.

“No,” he said, voice breaking. “No, no, no…”

You backed up, breathing heavy. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll find a cure. Umbrella—there has to be something—”

“There’s not.”

Tears welled in his eyes. Not from fear. From rage.

“You saved him,” he whispered. “You didn’t even think about it. You—”

“I guess that makes us even,” you said, swaying on your feet. “Now you’ve got no reason to protect me.”

Leon stepped forward. Held your face in both hands, gently. “I never needed a reason.”

You let yourself lean into him, just for a second. The world had gone to hell, and somehow, this man—a cop, a stranger, your would-be captor—had become the only person who saw you beneath the record.

“I didn’t think anyone like you still existed,” you whispered.

He kissed you. Soft. Desperate. Rain is still dripping from his hair. Blood between you. But it didn’t matter.

For a moment, it didn’t matter.

Then he pulled back. “We still have time.”

“To do what?”

“To fight. With everything we’ve got.”

You didn’t die that night.

You didn’t turn, either.

Leon found a temporary suppressant—something Umbrella had left behind in a lab. It slowed the virus. Bought you time. Not a cure, but a chance.

He promised he’d find more. Promised he’d burn every last Umbrella facility to the ground if that’s what it took.

You didn’t make it out of Raccoon City clean. You weren’t a hero. But you weren’t just a criminal anymore.

You were his partner.

And somewhere, in the ruins of what was, that meant everything.

_______________________________________

RAHHHHG okay yall I'm trying, I haven't written in, *checks calendar* like 8 million years give me your honest feedback, love yall!

[kittytehe]

[kittytehe]

doing that tik tok trend with katsuki where your bf ranks how mad he would be if another man touched you in different ways from 1 to 10...pls

the first image is someone squeezing your cheeks with one hand.

katsuki's jaw clenches, "no one would even be able to get that close to you."

you roll your eyes with a smile. "just imagine."

"then i'd blast his hand off." he blinks, serious as ever.

"you're not supposed to say what you'd do to them, you have to rank it."

he practically snarls. "one."

you laugh. "baby you have to be serious."

he cuts his eyes to you from the side. "does it look like i'm joking?"

"you have 10 things to rank, babe. i guarantee you that's not the worst thing you'll see."

he mutters to himself, "why did i agree to this." he sighs. "fine, four."

second, someone giving you a massage.

you swear, his eye twitches. "i'd break both his arms."

"that's not––"

"don't care." katsuki says matter of fact, adding his own rule to the game. "three."

third, you sitting in someone's lap, facing them.

he turns to look at you, offended.

you laugh, "why are you looking at me like i actually did it?"

he rolls his eyes. "tch, i'd break his kneecaps." he crosses his arms. "fucking one."

you sitting on someone's shoulders.

he runs a hand over his face in disbelief. "i'd knock him out, there's no way. why the fuck?-" he shakes his head. "two."

you stifle a laugh.

someone giving you a bath.

"immediately fucking no."

"katsuki-"

"they're all one, fuck it. we're done with this dumbass game."

[kittytehe]

Unintentional couple behaviour

you two acts like a loving couple all the time, so what happens when someone points it out?

characters: luffy, kidd, katakuri, shanks and mihawk

(zoro, sanji, law, ace and sabo)

a/n: since a loooot asked for more, here I am eheh

words count: around 0.4k - 1.1k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You don’t know when it started.

Maybe it was the way Luffy always stole food from your plate, but make sure to never let anyone else touch it.

Maybe it was how he always grabbed your hand first whenever the crew split up.

Maybe it was how he insisted on napping with you, his head always finding your lap, his arms always looping around you like a makeshift pillow.

Whatever it was, it had been going on for way too long. And the worst part is that you never questioned it.

Until now.

It starts with Sanji.

You’re sitting at the dinner table, picking at your food, when Sanji suddenly snorts “You two should just date already.”

You blink “…What?”

Sanji gestures between you and Luffy “You’re basically a couple anyway.”

You choke on your drink.

Luffy just tilts his head, mid-bite “Huh?”

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Seriously? You guys act like a couple all the time.”

You open your mouth to argue, to deny everything, but then Nami nods “He’s right, you know.”

Usopp grins “Yeah, I mean, have you even seen yourselves?”

Franky chuckles “Super obvious, bro.”

You stare. And then Zoro, of all people, grunts “They’re not wrong.”

Your brain short-circuits. Luffy just blinks at all of them, then turns to you “Wait… are we a couple?”

Your face burns “No!”

The crew groans.

“Oh, come on.”

“You’re in denial.”

“This is painful to watch.”

You glare “We’re just friends!”

Luffy nods “Yeah! Just friends!”

The crew stares. Then Brook smiles “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked y/n out on a date?”

Silence.

Then Luffy’s fork snaps in half and the table goes dead quiet.

Luffy grins at Brook, but it’s not his usual happy-go-lucky grin. It’s the grin he wears before picking a fight.

“Yohoho,” Brook laughs nervously “Just kidding.”

Luffy hums, still smiling “Good.”

Your stomach flips because holy shit. That was jealousy. Luffy was jealous... Over you.

The realization haunts you for the rest of the night. Because if Luffy was jealous then what did that mean?

Did he actually—?

No.

No, this is Luffy. He’s just protective. That’s just who he is.

…Right?

You barely sleep, and the next morning you wake up to Luffy in your bed.

Sprawled across your mattress. Arms locked around your waist. Face buried in your shoulder.

Like it’s completely normal.

Like he always does this.

Your heart pounds.

Because—wait!

He does always do this. Every night. Every time you’re on the Sunny, he sneaks into your bed without even asking. And you never questioned it.

Because it was just Luffy.

But now everything feels different.

You slowly try to move, but his grip tightens.

“Mm… don’t go” he mumbles sleepily, lips brushing against your skin.

And that’s it. You lose it.

“LUFFY, WHAT ARE WE?!”

Luffy jerks awake “Huh—?”

“What are we?!” you repeat, flustered as hell.

Luffy rubs his eyes, confused “We’re us.”

You groan “That’s not an answer!”

He tilts his head “What do you mean?”

You gesture wildly “This! Us! The sleeping together! The hand-holding! The food-sharing!”

Luffy suddenly grins “Oh.”

Your heart stops “What do you mean, oh?”

Luffy laughs. And then, without hesitation, he leans in and kisses you.

Soft. Certain.

Like he’s been waiting to do it forever.

You freeze. Your brain short-circuits.

He pulls back, grinning “So? Are we a couple now?”

You gape “…WHAT?!”

Luffy just laughs “Well, we’ve basically been dating this whole time, right?”

Your eye twitches “AND YOU KNEW?!”

Luffy shrugs “I just thought you knew too.”

You sputter, because what the hell. What the actual hell. Luffy just decided you were dating. And you never even noticed.

You flop back onto the bed.

Luffy just grins, tugging you closer “You’re thinking too much” he mumbles, nuzzling against you.

Your heart races.

Your face is burning.

But… maybe the crew was right. Maybe you and Luffy were always meant to be.

Even if you were the last person to realize it.

── .✦ Eustass Kidd:

You’ve always known Kid was the stubborn type. He was gruff, intense, and always had that tough guy act. But lately, you’ve noticed something strange. The more you were around him, the more he didn’t seem to mind you being there. In fact, he almost seemed to expect it.

It starts with those small things, things he doesn’t think twice about. Like when you’re both sitting on the deck, and a gust of wind hits just as you’re about to stand. Before you can catch your balance, Kid’s hand shoots out, steadying you. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip lingers just long enough for you to notice.

“Watch it” he mutters, his usual gruff tone, but there’s something softer behind his eyes. You smile but say nothing. Killer, standing nearby, simply raises an eyebrow before looking away, smirking under his mask.

A few days later, when the crew is at port, you notice Kid keeping an eye on you more than usual. Every time someone gets too close or even bumps into you, his sharp gaze zeroes in, and he doesn’t hesitate to step in between you and whoever’s too close. At one point, a shady pirate from a different crew tries to flirt with you. Before you can even respond, Kid steps forward, pushing the pirate away with a low growl.

“Get lost.”

You blink, surprised at his intensity, but he doesn’t look at you, just at the pirate who’s now backing off.

“Kid, I can handle myself” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to” he grumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed by something. He turns away before you can say anything else, muttering about how annoying it is to babysit you. But you know it’s not just that.

The crew knows it too.

Heat lets out a low whistle as he passes by “Damn, Captain, didn’t know you were the protective boyfriend type.”

Kid turns on him with a glare “Shut the hell up.”

Heat just laughs, walking away. You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest lingers.

Then, it all comes to a head one evening. The crew’s just finished a round of celebrations, the ship rocking gently in the quiet of the night. You’re leaning against the rail, enjoying the peace when you feel him behind you.

“Can’t sleep?” Kid asks, his voice low as usual.

You turn around, finding him standing there, arms crossed, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his scowling face.

“I could ask you the same thing” you reply.

There’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, not speaking. His eyes never leave yours, and the tension between you both seems to grow with every passing second.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching. Instinctively, you move closer to Kid. You don’t even think about it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand shifts from where it was casually resting at his side to just hovering near your waist.

The ship creaks, the quiet atmosphere making you both more aware of each other’s presence. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. His fingers are so close, just barely grazing your side as if to assure himself you’re right there.

The closeness feels… different. Intimate.

You glance up at him “Kid?” you ask softly, your heart beating a little faster.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead, his eyes flicker over your face, and you can see the internal struggle within him. It’s a battle, and for a second, you think he might just ignore it, keep up the stubborn front.

But then, his hand finally rests against your side. His touch isn’t harsh, but gentle. You don’t pull away.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this shit” he admits, his voice low but clear “But when it comes to you… I don’t want to risk something happening.”

You blink, surprised “Risk what?”

His gaze softens, and the gruffness in his tone fades away. He looks straight at you, the usual deflective annoyance replaced with something more vulnerable.

“I don’t want anyone else near you. Not after I saw that idiot trying to hit on you.”

You smile, your heart fluttering in your chest “Kid, I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I know,” he replies quickly, but there’s no hiding the quiet affection in his voice now “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and before you can even respond, something unspoken passes between you both. In a split second, his lips are near yours, and the kiss is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to show this side of himself.

But you kiss him back, your hand gently resting against his chest. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than either of you anticipated, but it feels like the world has paused, like this is the only thing that matters in that moment.

When you pull away, you both stand there in silence, but this time, it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable.

And then the moment is completely shattered by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both snap your heads toward the entrance to the deck, where Killer and Wire are standing, watching with amused expressions.

“So,” Wire says, smirking, “you two finally gonna admit you’re basically married, or should we keep pretending this isn’t happening?”

Your face heats up immediately, but Kid just groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Go to hell” he grumbles.

Killer just shakes his head “Too late, Captain. Everyone’s been taking bets on when you’d figure it out.”

You gape “What?”

Wire grins “Yeah. Heat won. He said you’d kiss before the next port. Guess we owe him a round of drinks.”

Kid looks absolutely done. You, on the other hand, can’t help but laugh. Because honestly? It’s not surprising.

You look back up at Kid, who’s still scowling but isn’t pulling away from you. You squeeze his hand briefly before grinning.

“Guess we were the last ones to know, huh?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, but there’s no real annoyance in his expression anymore. Just acceptance. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something real.

── .✦ Red-Haired Shanks:

Being part of the Red Hair Pirates meant living in a constant mess of drinking, laughing, and reckless adventures.

And somehow you ended up being the most responsible one. Which was probably why everyone assumed you and Shanks were together.

The problem?

You weren’t.

But apparently, no one got the memo.

It starts with Yasopp.

You’re in the middle of patching up Shanks’ arm because, once again, he got into a bar fight for fun, when Yasopp smirks at you from across the deck.

“You know,” he says casually, “you’re basically married to him at this point.”

You nearly stab Shanks with the needle.

“What?!”

Shanks, meanwhile, just laughs.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even deny it.

“C’mon,” Yasopp continues, “you take care of him, clean up after him, yell at him when he’s reckless...”

“I yell at all of you.”

“Yeah, but you baby him.”

Shanks grins “It’s true. You do.”

You glare “I do not.”

Shanks just shrugs “If you say so.”

And that should be the end of it. But it’s not.

Because after that the whole crew starts treating you like... ugh.

“Oi, Y/N! Can you grab Shanks another drink?”

“Y/N, tell the captain to stop picking fights with Marines again.”

“Hey, Y/N, Shanks says he wants something spicy, maybe you could help... and it's not about food”

You want to scream.

But Shanks?

Shanks just goes along with it. Smiling. Laughing. Letting everyone assume you’re his.

And the worst part is that you let them, because deep down you don’t hate the idea.

And that’s dangerous.

Then one night, it all clicks.

You’re sitting at a bonfire, surrounded by the crew, listening to them sing and drink and bicker over who can hold their liquor best.

You’re not paying attention until you hear your name.

“So, Captain,” Lucky Roux says, “when’s the wedding?”

You choke on your drink. But before you can argue, Shanks just grins.

“Oh, give it time.”

The crew erupts into laughter.

You just stare at him.

Because... what????

Shanks turns to you, smiling like he didn’t just casually imply he plans on marrying you.

And something in his expression—

Something warm. Something knowing.

It hits you all at once.

The hand-holding. The lingering touches. The way he always pulls you onto his lap when there’s no room to sit.

The way he lets you fuss over him when he gets hurt, the way he only ever listens to you.

The way he looks at you like you’re something precious.

Your heart pounds.

And Shanks just grins against your lips.

“Took you long enough” he murmurs.

And when you pull back, breathless, flustered, you realize that maybe you’ve been his this whole time.

You blink, heart still racing as the weight of his words settles in. The laughter of the crew fades into background noise, the warmth of the bonfire casting flickering shadows over Shanks’ face. He’s watching you, waiting, like he already knows the answer, like he’s known it for years.

And maybe he has.

Maybe he’s been waiting for you to catch up.

Your throat is dry. You open your mouth, but no words come out, just a strangled sound of disbelief.

Shanks chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners “You alright there, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he hasn’t just upended everything you thought you knew.

Your hands tighten in his shirt, and you can’t tell if it’s to ground yourself or to pull him closer “You...” you swallow, voice quieter now, meant just for him “You should’ve said something...”

He tilts his head, considering “I thought I did. Plenty of times.”

You scowl, smacking his chest lightly, which only makes him laugh “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, I know.” His fingers brush your jaw, featherlight, reverent “I just like seeing you all flustered.”

You groan, but you don’t pull away. And well, that says everything, doesn’t it?

And Shanks knows it too, because his grin softens, something unreadable flickering in his gaze “So,” he murmurs, close enough that his breath tickles your lips, “now that you’ve finally figured it out, what do you plan to do about it?”

The challenge is there, teasing, but there’s something raw beneath it, something real.

You take a breath. Then, before you can overthink it, you grab the front of his coat and pull him in, kissing him again, firmer this time.

The crew erupts in cheers. Someone whistles. Someone else yells about winning a bet.

But all you can focus on is the way Shanks smiles against your lips, like he’s just won something far more important.

And maybe you have too.

── .✦ Charlotte Katakuri:

The first time someone calls you Katakuri’s spouse, you nearly drop your mochi donut.

“Excuse me, what?”

The Big Mom Pirates stare at you like you’re stupid.

“Well, yeah,” Oven says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “You take care of him, he lets you into his tea time, you’re the only one who sees his face—”

Brûlée smirks “And you always defend him when people talk behind his back.”

Daifuku nods “Might as well be married already.”

You sputter “That doesn’t mean—! We’re not—! He’s just my commander!”

Oven raises an eyebrow “You ever see Katakuri treat anyone else the way he treats you?”

You freeze.

Because... okay.

That’s a good point.

Katakuri isn’t exactly warm with people. He’s respected, feared, distant. A perfectionist. The strongest Sweet Commander.

And yet, with you?

He lets you tease him. Lets you see him.

Lets you in.

Your stomach flips.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

You try to forget about it.

But after that you start noticing things.

The way Katakuri always saves you the best snacks at tea time.

The way he steps in front of you during battles without thinking.

The way he lets you touch him, his arm, his back, his face.

His unguarded moments are always with you.

And suddenly you can’t ignore it.

Neither can the crew.

It all comes to a head one evening.

You’re sitting with Katakuri in his usual spot, tea cooling beside him, the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. He’s eating, as usual, but his guard is down because you’re here.

And then the words slip out.

“…Katakuri.”

He glances at you, chewing “Hm?”

You hesitate. Then screw it.

“Are we… something?”

Katakuri pauses.

Slowly, he sets his cup down. Then he exhales, like he’s been waiting for this.

“You tell me,” he says, voice steady “Would it bother you if we were?”

Your heart pounds. Because no, it wouldn’t.

You swallow “No.”

Katakuri watches you for a long moment. Then, he smirks.

“Then I suppose we are.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“Wait—WHAT?!”

Katakuri chuckles, low and deep “Did you really think I’d let just anyone this close to me?”

You gasp, because hold on. Has he known this whole time?!

Your face burns “You could’ve said something sooner, you jerk!”

Katakuri just leans closer, his presence overwhelming.

“…Would you have been ready to hear it?”

You freeze, because damn it.

He’s right.

── .✦ Dracule Mihawk:

Living on Kuraigana Island with Mihawk isn’t easy, but somehow, you get used to it.

You get used to the silence. The way he watches you over the rim of his wine glass. The way he corrects your sword stance with the barest touch of his fingers.

You get used to the way he does things for you without asking, bringing you an extra plate at meals, fixing your sword when it’s damaged, moving his coat so you don’t sit on the cold stone steps.

It’s just how he is... Or so you think.

Until one day Perona stares at the two of you across the dining table and snorts.

“You guys act like a married couple.”

You choke on your drink. Mihawk just raises an eyebrow.

Perona grins “Oh, come on! You live together, train together, eat together—hell, you even drink out of each other’s cups sometimes!”

You freeze.

Because—wait. When did that start happening?!

You sneak a glance at Mihawk, expecting him to argue.

But instead, he just takes a sip of wine and says, “And?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because what does he mean, ‘and’?!

Perona cackles “Oh, this is gold.”

Meanwhile, you’re too busy spiraling to notice the small, knowing smirk on Mihawk’s lips.

Because the truth is, he knew all along.

The next few days pass in a strange haze. Every time you’re near Mihawk, you’re hyper-aware of his actions. The way he hands you your sword when it’s too heavy for you to lift properly, the way he adjusts your stance when you’re practicing, even the way he leaves his wine glass half-filled so you can sip it without asking.

You can’t help but start noticing the little things. And it makes your stomach do these strange little flips you can’t quite explain.

You try to convince yourself that you’re just overthinking it. After all, you’ve spent so much time together, working side-by-side, that it’s only natural for him to be a bit… attentive. But you can’t help but feel that there’s more to it than that.

One evening, you’re training in the yard. Mihawk is watching from the porch, as usual, but today there’s something different in the air. Maybe it’s the cool breeze, or the strange feeling of him staring at you.

“Focus” he calls out when you fumble with your sword.

You grit your teeth and refocus, sweat already beading on your forehead. Your movements become sharper, more determined, but you can’t quite shake the feeling that something is… off.

When you finish the routine, Mihawk’s still leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his gaze. You give him a quick, sideways glance, noticing the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Something wrong?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

His response comes as a slow, deliberate drawl “You still aren’t quite in sync with your sword. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You feel your face flush, but you push through it “Yeah? Well, I’m not some grandmaster swordsman like you, Mihawk.”

He steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but his gaze softens for a moment “You’re getting better. I’m simply making sure you don’t lose track of your progress.”

The softness in his voice catches you off-guard, and for a split second, you feel as if you’re standing on the edge of something, something new.

But you quickly push it aside, shaking it off as just another passing thought. You turn to grab your sword again, determined to change the subject.

“Thanks for the help,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady “But I think I need a break. My arms are sore.”

Mihawk doesn’t respond at first. Instead, he merely watches you for a moment before he speaks again, his tone unusually gentle.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’ve been training for hours without rest.”

You give him a small, appreciative nod “I’ll be fine. You’re too used to looking out for me, Mihawk.”

He lets out a faint chuckle, but you notice that there’s a strange intensity in his gaze now “I suppose I am.”

Before you can react, you feel something slightly off, a flicker of tension between you two.

It’s subtle, but it’s there. And you feel it in the way he looks at you, the way he almost seems to be waiting for you to say something.

But, just like that, the moment passes. He steps back, motioning for you to take a rest.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” he says quietly, as if nothing had happened “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You blink “You cook?”

“Of course,” he says with a slight, almost invisible smirk “It’s not difficult, and you’ve been working hard all day. You deserve a proper meal.”

You feel your heart race at his words, but you manage to keep it together “Alright, I’ll take you up on that.”

But as Mihawk turns to walk away, you pause.

For just a second, you wonder... has this always been a normal interaction between you two? Or has it grown into something more without you even realizing it?

The unease gnaws at you as you sit down on the steps, watching him disappear into the house.

You’re overthinking it. You’re just friends.

...Right?

Later that evening, you’re sitting across from Mihawk, your meal already finished. The conversation is easy, but there’s still that lingering, unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Finally, Mihawk breaks the silence, his voice low and casual “You’ve been avoiding the subject.”

Your brow furrows in confusion “What subject?”

“The subject of us.”

You choke on your drink, sputtering “What—us?!”

His expression remains unreadable, but there’s a faint glimmer in his eyes “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been acting strange around me lately. Ever since Perona made her comment.”

You freeze “I—uh—”

“Let’s stop pretending,” he continues “We’ve been behaving like a couple, whether we admit it or not.”

Your heart starts to race. You open your mouth to deny it, but the words get stuck. Instead, you just stare at him, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

And that’s when Mihawk leans forward just slightly, his voice dropping lower “I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I do know that I don’t want you to leave.”

The bluntness of his words takes your breath away.

“I never planned to leave” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips.

Mihawk gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s so small and almost imperceptible that you’re not sure you saw it at all. But something in his eyes shifts.

“Good.”

And just like that, the tension finally breaks.

You’re not sure where this will go. But for now, you’re content to just be here with him, uncertain, but sure of one thing: neither of you are going anywhere.

[kittytehe]

i hate when you google a word and some fucking company comes up instead. Do you think you are more important than the english dictionary you piece of shit corporation

[kittytehe]

[kittytehe]

Hey if you’re schizophrenic/psychotic I just want you to know that you’re a wonderful person and that you deserve so much better than the demonization, marginalization and stigmatization you face in this society.

[kittytehe]

So wait are livestock guardian dogs to their flocks like… Clark Kent among the residents of Smallville? He’s been here since he was a baby, we all know him, and he’s… generally one-of-us shaped, uh, approximately. And then when something goes wrong he suddenly leaps into action and does some terrifying impossible shit none of us could do. And then comes back home and settles in like nothing happened and he’s one of us again.

[kittytehe]

i need feminism because when jesus does a magic trick it’s a goddamn miracle but when a woman does a magic trick she gets burned at the stake

[kittytehe]

whys king kong………..so fucking large

[kittytehe]

[kittytehe]

"Wow, this kink is so weird and extreme" and the you look inside and it's literally just "what if I never had to Be Responsible or Make Good Life Decisions ever again, and somehow this was a sex thing?"

[kittytehe]

The thing they don't tell you about fried egg runny yolk is that if you put it in a sandwich it will be the best most delicious thing and you can mop up the egg with the bread, but in exchange you Will get so so messy and covered in egg yolk