slurp-imagines

[slurp-imagines]

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

click here for all Jujutsu Kaisen posts. click here Jujutsu Kaisen imagines.

(H) Headcanons, (A) Ask memes, (S) Scenario / Short-fic

➥ KAMO NORITOSHI

(S) Just classmates, just an accident (NSFW)

[slurp-imagines]

👻 👻 Thriller Bark Arc ~ Perona ~Episode 361  👻 👻

[slurp-imagines]

Either gender neutral or she/her pronouns. (This is Usopp angst Anon)

This is super long and I didn’t mean for it to be but here we are

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2725

Shaky Hands

His hand was shaking as heard the familiar click of the den den mushi. Usopp dropped the receiver and let out an audible whimper. Panic was welling up in his chest. Bile was rising in his throat. Sanji grabbed his shoulder.

“Snap out of it!” the cook barked, his cigarette falling from his lips to the floor. Sanji stamped it out quickly before dragging his friend down the hall.

Usopp followed with an ever paling expression. For all his big talk Usopp was at a loss for words in one moment. He could barely hear what Sanji was saying to him or the others. The sniper felt as if he couldn’t breathe, everything was spiralling to a halt.

The Thousand Sunny had docked on a simple looking island. It was a summer island, largely made of forest and but had a seaside town near the ports. The crew had stopped because they needed supplies. Usopp had drawn the short straw and was forced to keep watch over the ship while the others picked up supplies. He’d written down a shopping list for (Name) so she could pick up what he needed.

That had been hours ago and his list was less than a page long. He’d been worried about her before, but his anxiety grew as crew members came back one by one without her. Usopp had just bit his lip and held his tongue because (Name) was a strong woman and she’d be okay. That was until the den den mushi started ringing.

It was Nami on the other hand, out of breath and frantic. In an exhausted voice she informed the crew members that (Name) had been ambushed by slave traders who were hiding out on the island. Nami spit out some coordinates the traders may have been at before hanging up.

A hard slap to the face jerked him out of his panic attack. Starled, he looked up to see the icy gaze of Robin staring back at him. He’d known her long enough to recognize the fear behind her steely unmoving expression.

“Pull yourself together long-nose,” Robin commanded in a strong yet grave tone, “We’ve got to go get her.”

Robin looked away from Usopp, and glanced at the other Straw Hats watching her anxiously. The woman let out a frustrated sigh before taking a moment to think over the crews options.

“Does anyone know where Zoro or Luffy are?” she asked, and to her disappointment she was greeted by a wave of muttered ‘no’s.

“Alright,” Robin grabbed Usopp’s wrist, “Franky, go find Luffy and Zoro, fill them in on what’s happening. Get Nami too. Brook, stay here and protect the ship. We may need to make a quick escape.” Using her devil fruit, Robin grabbed the wrists of Sanji, Jimbe and Chopper, “The rest of us will go hunt down (Name).”

When Robin let go, Usopp rubbed his face and swore at his hands for still trembling. He shook his head and grabbed his oversized sling shot. Usopp turned to Chopper who was already filling his tiny backpack with medical supplies. “She’s gonna be fine, right?” Usopp’s voice caught in his throat, as he filled his own satchel with various ammo.

With a grim expression Chopper didn’t reply right away. He stuffed gauze into his backpack. “Camie was fine, when she was captured, but…” the reindeer trailed off, his face tightened into a more serious expression. One that Usopp didn’t think was possible for the reindeer to pull off.

Usopp wrang his hands together for a moment before biting back another cowardly comment. He could only imagine what (Name) would say if she saw him in such a miserable state, and she’d seen him in some pretty bad situations.

“I gotta put on a brave face for her,” he grunted to himself as he hurried off the ship alongside Chopper.

The group darted off towards the coordinates Nami had guessed. Brook who had been pacing, waved them goodbye, before camping out by the den den mushi on board. His mournful violin playing could be heard from the deck.

Franky had already left so Usopp prayed it wouldn’t be long before Luffy and Zoro appeared to save the day. One could only hope for such luck, but everyone knew the Straw Hats had a knack for getting into trouble.

When the crew got towards the center of town, loud music and an announcer's voice in the distance.

“Is that it?” Chopper asked, straining to listen and sniffing the air.

Robin and Jimbe shared glances with one another and nodded. The two experienced more than enough of the darkness in the world to know it must be right building.

“Most likely,” Jimbe said, “We have to go see.”

Taking in a deep breath and swallowing his fears, Usopp took off into a dead sprint towards the sound of the music. If his (Name) was being held there he’d go through hell and high water to get to her.

He could hear the click of Chopper’s hooves as he appeared beside Usopp in Walk Point, with Robin on his back. Jimbe and Sanji weren’t far behind him either.

The crew must’ve hit some kind of luck, as they neared the building. It was clear by the well dressed crowd meandering outside that it was in fact an auction house.

Robin used her power to once again grab the men and stop them from running straight into the building.

“We can’t just burst in there,” Robin scolded in a hushed tone, “It doesn’t sound like it’s started just yet. We can slip and slip out with (Name) without being noticed.”

“Let’s get going then. No one lays a finger on (Name) -swan and gets away with it,” Sanji growled before lighting a cigarette and saunter around to the back of the building. Usopp was hot on Sanji’s heels. He wouldn’t admit it but he was jealous of Sanji’s confidence or all the times he had made (Name) blush, but it wasn’t the time or place to dwell on such things.

The security behind the building was almost laughable, for people such as the Straw Hats. A handful of guards stood outside the back door, whom were eliminated rather quickly and quietly. The door had simple lock, but not to worry, Sanji kicked in the door with within a few moments.

It was easy to hear an announcer once inside the building, and it was clear that the event had begun by the time the crew got inside. Jimbe shuddered at the sight of all kinds of people, including fish-men were lined in small cages.

Usopp’s eyes darted frantically around the room looking for his darling (Name). The sound of shouting caught his attention. It was (Name) swearing up a storm and sounding an awful lot like Nami in the moment.

Dozens of men in black uniforms surrounded a cage with guns as a few manhandled (Name) out of the cage. She was dragged out by the sea stone handcuffs on her wrists and was spitting venom on her way out.

“Uncuff me, you cowards!” she hissed at the man trying to get her to her feet, “Fight me like men, you pigs!”

The crew was quick to react seeing that she was alive and had enough energy left to put up a struggle. They quickly took out a handful of guards before the had been noticed. Sanji, Jimbe, and Chopper took on the brunt of the attacks, while Robin and Usopp covered them.

“Just get her out on the stage!” snapped one of the men in uniform, “Someone else let the boss know what’s happening!”

As a jailer darted from the group, Usopp was able to shoot him down before he even touched a door.

“Feeling a little better?” Robin offered him a gentle smile.

Usopp could only nod, he still couldn’t quite breathe, but seeing (Name) alive and relatively unharmed grounded him in a sense.

Whilst the crew was lost in the fight, (Name) had been dragged to her feet and had a dagger pressed against her throat.

“Enough!” the man holding the dagger, shouted above the crowd, “Take another step and she dies.”

Everyone, including the slavers, froze in their place and all eyes directed toward (Name). The mans’ lips tugged up into a sneer and looked down at the woman in his grasp, “I could just kill her here and now, and take that sweet bounty for myself. But such a pretty dame like this,” his raw tongue up her jaw, “Would make a perfect consort for a Celestial Dragon. And the Dragons’ have funds to burn.”

(Name)’s eyes widened and her body went rigid in his arms. (Name) looked at the crew and whimpered, “Usopp, help me.”

The sniper felt his mouth go dry and it was becoming difficult to swallow. He stared at (Name) and tried to cover up his expression of anxiety. He clucked his tongue twice, and quickly loaded his slingshot.

“What did I say?” the man pressed the blade in her neck, “Don’t move.”

In a flash Robin used her extra limbs to distract the man and Usopp fired a Yabusame Devil. A barrage of ammunition rained down on the guards, and plants grew from the ground causing havoc. As the goons tried to fight off the sudden plant life, shrieks could be heard from the front. From the sound of it, Franky had found the others.

A thick atmosphere consisting of hate and rage surrounded the room like a fog as Luffy stepped inside the back room. The slavers were practically frozen in fear and Usopp took his chance to find (Name). He ducked in around plant life, who largely ignored their master.

He spotted her standing near where she originally was with the dagger the man once held in her hands. She wiped her lip and looked up when Usopp called to her.

“(Name)!” he panted as he got closer to her. Without thinking of anything else, Usopp grabbed her and held her tight. He buried his face in her hair and tried to pull her closer to his trembling body. “God, I was scared I was going to lose you,” he murmured into her locks and squeezed tighter.

(Name) gasped loudly and dropped the dagger, it clattered on the cement floors. Usopp let go while stammering out sorry’s while inspecting her body. He’d been so scared that she’d die that her had to hold her before she slipped away from him.

(Name) smiled sweetly up at Usopp. “Sorry, I got a little banged up in there,” she rubbed his arm comfortingly, “But I’m just fine.”

“Let’s get you to Chopper, he should check you just incase,” Usopp took her hand tightly in his and guided her out of the mass of plants.

Once they got out of the tiny forest created by Usopp, they found the rest of the crew on the other side. They let out a breath of relief and as the sniper smiled at them. She was alive.

“We were able to help the other prisoners escape,” Jimbe smiled. As he and Franky filled Usopp in, Chopper fluttered around (Name). The little reindeer was clearly anxious.

“It’s just a few bruises, Chopper,” (Name) dismissed him gently, “You should tend to the folks who’ve been trapped in this hell hole longer than me.”

The doctor tried to protest but begrudgingly agreed, “Fine… but I’m not done with you.”

After Chopper tended to his patients, and the slavers sufficiently dealt with the crew prepared to return to the Sunny, and Usopp wrapped his arm around (Name) feeling, anxiously. She tried to assure him that she was more than just fine. However the sniper insisted on keeping her close at least until they got off this shitty island.

The sun had dipped under the horizon by then making everyone sleepy. Thus Usopp thought nothing of it, when (Name) initially leaned into him. It caught his attention however when her breath started getting heavier and her movements became sluggish.

“Are you okay, honey?” he asked her softly, hoping she’d just say she was feeling exhausted or hungry. Instead he was met with a sunken in expression, and foggy eyes. Not believing what he’d seen he let her go for a moment. In that moment, she dropped like a rag doll onto the ground.

“(Name)!” Usopp yelped, catching her before her head with the ground. The Straw Hats felt horrified at the scene before them. Chopper was immediately on his way over to them.

Usopp positioned her so her head was in his lap, in the process he pulled his hand away from her back. He gasped, even in the darkness of night, Usopp could tell his palm was slick with blood. “(Name),” he stammered softly, “What did you do?”

Chopper pulled up her shirt to show a large gash on her lower back. “I knew I smelled blood,” he whimpered, wrinkling his nose, “Roll her on her side.”

The sniper did as he was told and rotated (Name) with gash facing Chopper. The reindeer wrinkled is nose more, “She’s been stabbed… it’s been a few hours.”

“She... she said it was a few bruises,” Usopp started shaking, “(Name), why did you lie me?”

At the sound of her name she stirred awake and blinked into focus. “Sorry, Usopp,” (Name) murmured into his leg, “I didn’t want to scare anyone.”

“A lot of good that did you,” Zoro commented from afar, “You’re scaring the hell out of us now.”

Sanji glared at Zoro but bit his tongue, for (Name). It was clear the Usopp was trembling, but Sanji only realized he himself was shaking as he went to light a cigarette.

“Chopper,” (Name) murmured, as Chopper began applying a salve, “Save your supplies. You and I both know it’s a waste.”

The reindeer had been weeping silently, because he knew they’d need a miracle to keep her alive and the Straw Hats had used up so many of their miracles already.

Usopp directed a sharp expression towards Chopper and looked down at his girlfriend. “We will use every berry we have, to save you (Name). Nothing is ever a waste!” he said in a tone much harsher than he had meant.

(Name) turned to look up at Usopp, a weak smile on her face. “It’s okay, dear,” she reached up and stroked his cheek, “I’ll be fine.”

“But.. but, what about me?” Usopp laced his fingers with hers, tears were streaming down his face, “I can’t do this without you.”

She feebly shooed Chopper away as he was trying to bandage her up, only to have blood seep through the bandages. The reindeer pulled away as she rolled onto her back so she could see Usopp. “Finish the journey for me, be the warrior the giants of Elbaf will celebrate and be proud of,” she grinned and let her own tears slipped down her cheeks.

Usopp was openingly sobbing over (Name), he was trying to force the tears away. He needed to memorize everything about her face and he couldn’t do that while crying.

“But,” she continued in a frail voice, “Even if the giants aren’t proud of you, just know that I’ve always been proud of you.”

Usopp scooped her up in his arms and cradled her close to her chest. “(Name),” his voice was strained, “You can’t go! I love you! You’re supposed to be there when we get to Raftel.”

She wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and murmured, “Don’t worry, dearsest, I’ll be there when you do.” She held on a few moments longer, then she was gone.

Usopp squeezed her tighter, as if was trying to hold her soul inside her body. “Damn it, you can’t leave me!” he wailed and choked on his own sob.

And there he stayed on his knees holding her close, praying to any god that may listen to bring her back to him.

First it was Chopper, then Sanji and Luffy, slowly but surely the crew gathered around Usopp and (Name). Usopp wasn’t sure how long it took for the tears to run dry, but when they finally did he moved for the first time and brush a piece of hair out of her face with trembling fingers.

“I’ll steal the world for you.”

[slurp-imagines]

[slurp-imagines]

Kamo Noritoshi - Just classmates, just an accident.

Summary: Reader tripped in front of Noritoshi and he accidentally saw up their skirt. It's been hours and it's still on his mind.

A/N: this was written for my OC originally, just removed names. so it's a female reader wearing a skirt. kind of works as a self-insert if you're okay with she/her pronouns.

Tags: NSFW/18+, M/F, masturbation, one-sided feelings / not in relationship, 3rd person narration

Words: 1,279

read on AO3

He feels disgustingly perverted. But he can't stop thinking about it.

They were in the wooded training zone together for a simple class exercise in the early morning. It was hours ago. She's tripped and fallen a little ways ahead of him. And he hadn't tried to look. It was natural to look at unexpected movement happening right in front of him.

She'd stood up and laughed it off with only the faintest hints of warmth in her cheeks, knowing he'd seen and knowing it couldn't be changed.

It was hours ago, though. He had gone through multiple other classes. Eaten lunch. Taken an exam. Went through his after-school training. Completed his school day with all the diligence and care to detail that everyone would expect from him.

Silently putting great effort into staying on task. Into forcing that single, erotically persistent mental image away from his attention.

The way the fabric hugged her butt, framed by the pleats of her skirt. He actually didn't see that much, and that somehow makes it harder to forget. The way his eyes quickly traveled up her thighs and then between them, the sharp pang of guilt before he finally forced his gaze away. He's wrong for looking – she isn't his to look at.

But he wants her to be. So, so badly. As soon as he's alone in his dormitory, the memory creeps back into his attention. This time he lets it stay there. He locks his door and doesn't bother turning on the lights, just undresses and goes straight into his shower room and starts the water.

To his credit, he does reconsider for a moment while his member twitches between his thighs, growing harder. Is it fair to do this? Is it fair to her?

I guess you aren't the worst option, she'd told him. I woulda maybe died if it was one of the first-year guys.

That must mean she wouldn't mind, no…? Yes? She was embarrassed, but she wasn't upset with him. She would have hated it if the first-years had seen, but if it was him– since it was him, she was okay with it. That's what she meant, wasn't it? This wasn't wrong, was it?

After just a moment's hesitation, Noritoshi's hand moves between his legs, grasping his erection. He was already almost full mast, just thinking about her. To think she has this much of an effect over him…

He sighs out, turning to face the wall and leaning his arm against it as he begins slowly stroking himself. Hot water pelts his back as he closes his eyes and focuses on the mental image of her, on all fours on the forest floor, the skirt of her dress haphazardly tossed up over her hips. What would she have looked like if she'd wanted him to stare longer? He thinks of her coy expressions, the beautiful curl of her lips when she wants to get a reaction out of him. Imagining her there, perking her ass up and spreading her legs for him, blushing just like he saw her today, smiling invitingly like she always does…

He moans, a soft hum low in his throat. His hand curls his palm around the tip and twists slightly. Precum quickly coats his fingers, dribbling down the rest of his cock. He gives himself a few full strokes, smearing it over himself, delighting in the smooth glide that results.

What he'd seen of her ass was just as beautiful and enticing as the rest of her. He wishes he could have touched her, the cleft where thigh meets her rear, the valley between her legs. Wishes he could have moved her panties to the side, seen pink folds beneath pink fabric…

He puts his hand back on the head, thrusting into the tunnel of his fingers. Imagining himself on his knees with her in the forest, pushing his cock into the tunnel of her warmth instead. She'd cry out his name. Kamo-kun? Noritoshi? It didn't matter. He just wanted to feel her, warm and wet and squeezing him. Wanted her to take him, to want him.

She would be welcoming but demanding, the same as she's always been. She'd let him fuck her until he couldn't anymore. She'd whine and moan and call out his name from between her glossy, plush lips, she would tell him she needs more, faster, harder, and he would give it to her as soon as she asked. Because no matter how much he pretends, deep down he knows he can't deny her anything. In fact, he wants to give her everything she could ever ask for. He would, if he could.

"Y-Y/N..."

He can't help calling out for her, too, though his voice remains quiet underneath the spray of water. He imagines his hands pushing her skirt further up, until he could grip the bare skin of her waist, pulling her body back onto his cock. Watching her ass bouncing off his hips, his member disappearing into her soft pussy over and over again.

He wishes he could give her this, make her feel this touched and pleasured. Wishes he could make her blush and beg until she came all over him, overcome by the feelings he'd aroused in her. He imagines her collapsing onto the ground after he's finished with her, turning herself over and smiling up at him, breathless and sultry, legs spread wide and fingers spreading herself even wider. His load dripping out of her hole. It's erotic and it's obscene, it's– he needs it, needs her, needs her to want him–

Noritoshi stifles his groan into his arm while his cum paints the wall in front of him with thick, creamy droplets. Hot semen dribbles down his fist while he trembles and fucks his hand in a restrained, twitchy rhythm, slowly winding down from his peak.

Noritoshi breathes in and out of his mouth once he feels he has his voice back under control. A new sense of shame washes over him when he opens his eyes and stares at the mess he'd made of the shower wall. He takes one of the wrappings out of his hair – he was so preoccupied he forgot to even remove them – and uses that to wipe it off. He'd just throw it out afterward, he has plenty to spare. There is just no way he could continue wearing the remnants of what he'd just done.

But at least now that he's gotten it out of his system, he can forget about that image properly. At his age, this was just something he had to take care of sometimes. He wasn't wrong for it.

And she would forgive him even if she knew, anyway… She'd said it herself, that he wasn't the worst option. She had laughed it off before, she would do it again.

This wasn't a bad thing that he'd done. It was just… all of it, an accident.

Tomorrow, he will be normal again. His thoughts clear, attention focused where it's actually meant to be.

He will be normal. And they will just be classmates again.

He turns back into the shower spray, and tries hard to ignore his disappointment.

[slurp-imagines]

[slurp-imagines]

One Piece

[slurp-imagines]

im so feral for your admiral content 😭 may I please ask for borsalino and sakazuki the moment they realize they've fallen in love with their s/o?

sorry for the wait, anon. this was a bit tough for Borsalino (hence the difference in length lol), and it took me ages to get this out, but I hope someone can still find some enjoyment in it!

The moment they realize they've fallen in love: Borsalino & Sakazuki

Borsalino (Kizaru)

↳ To be honest, he was probably pretty caught off guard by it at first. If he had to pinpoint a reason why his past relationships didn't work out, he's self-aware enough to know that perhaps his lackadaisical nature might have contributed.

↳ He could apparently never become serious enough, fast enough. His partners were more invested, more committed than he was, already rushing a few steps ahead of him while he was still feeling like there wasn't a reason to kick into gear yet. We've still got time, he thought. Until it was over, and they didn't anymore.

↳ Borsalino probably half-expects it to happen again. But it just doesn't. Not really, anyway. He doesn't feel like he's falling out of step with you. He waits for it to happen, for you to say those three words and he would have to swallow his tongue because he couldn't say them back. It doesn't happen that way, though.

↳ He falls slowly. So, so slowly. He feels it as it happens. He knows when it's inevitable that he'll fall all the way. The images in his head of a wedding and a nice home and daily kisses at the front door become clearer, sharper by the day. He learns about your hobbies. He shows you a couple of his. He thinks of you with every inane thing he does. Each time he puts two sugars in his coffee he remembers that Y/N drinks theirs with one. He sees you in views you would've found pretty, he thinks of you during boring meetings. He isn't used to missing people. But sometimes, when he's away for work, he'll pick up the denden mushi and call you, even though you already phoned him that morning.

↳ He just goes through his life like that, watching the world slowly tilt itself off its axis while he falls. It starts to feel to him like everything about you– the two of you, a unit– makes sense now. Like it all fits together properly. He gets it now.

↳ And somehow, it isn't scary. It feels right, and it feels gentle. Honestly, the realization that comes next– that he trusts you with himself this much– is the most earth-shattering part of this whole thing. He sort of subconsciously thought he'd always have his guard up with people. And yet you slipped your way in this easily?

↳ I can really love them, he thinks. I have to do it right this time, he thinks. He has trouble saying it out loud. But for the first time in a long time, he feels like it could be worth taking the first step.

Sakazuki (Akainu)

↳ Surprisingly, I think Sakazuki would be more emotionally prepared for this moment than Borsalino– or maybe just prepared in a different way.

↳ Because Sakazuki hates wasting time or effort, and he’s very picky. Since early in the relationship (maybe even before he started courting you), he would've asked himself multiple times, “Does this seem like someone I can fall in love with, and stay in love with?” Probably not in those exact words, but he’s definitely spent a lot of time considering whether you’re someone he would sacrifice things for, that he feels at peace with, that he would feel relieved coming home to.

↳ So when he realizes he’s in love with you, it’s not earth-shattering at all. I see it happening when he’s coming back at his house after a regular day of work. Nothing particularly exciting, nothing particularly stressful. But normal. Routine.

↳ But he's suddenly perturbed when he has the key in the lock of his front door, and it's remaining un-turned for just a breath longer than normal, because he doesn’t want to go inside when he knows you aren't there. He wants to see you instead, and share a meal with you and lie down with you under a comforter that smells like your fabric softener.

↳ He wants his daily routine to include you at the start and end of it. Because he loves you.

↳ Sakazuki isn't the type for surprise visits, but he's pretty tempted at this moment, however late at night it may be. He restrains himself though, and enters his suddenly very empty-feeling home. He's always privately agreed with you when you would say that he lived like a Spartan, it just never really saw how it might be a negative until now.

↳ But he'll sit on it for a loooong time before he says anything to you. He tells himself he just wants to be sure, and he continues with his day-to-day, thinking of you all the while. He waits for his feelings to change, for his mind to snap out of it. And then he ponders some more about the short-lived spike of fear in his chest every time he imagines that scenario actually coming to pass.

↳ It's actually a bit infuriating to him, the realization that he truly fears the day he'd have to let go of you for good. He almost doesn't want to admit he's this attached, even though he knew from early on that it'd be an inevitability.

[slurp-imagines]

coward trio

[slurp-imagines]

a friend i recently got into one piece made me think about luffy with tattoos

[slurp-imagines]

Random Word Prompts: Luffy & Sanji

(ask meme link)

written as platonic headcanons but prob can be taken as romantic as well.

Soot: Could they survive on their own if they had to?

↳ Imagining some random "stranded together on a deserted island" scenario...

↳ The answer is yes, but dysfunctionally. Sanji does like 95% of the work. He does the cooking, he sets up the shelter and keeps it tidy, he works on finding a way to get back to the rest of the crew. He's the caretaker in this relationship for sure. He can assign Luffy tasks of course but only within reason. Luffy is also extremely lackadaisical about everything and it stresses Sanji out a little

↳ Btw Luffy's 5% of the work is 1) hunting, and 2) emotional labor. He drives Sanji a little nuts, but also keeps him from getting lonely. Every now and then, he'll say something that Sanji finds incredibly, stupidly sweet. "I couldn't do this without you!" "I'm glad you're the one I got stranded with :D" "We should do this again sometime!! And bring friends!!!"

↳ And Sanji is just very grumpily endeared by it. He's like... you idiot... you little dunderhead... if we bring other people it won't be "doing this again"... also, why would we want to get stranded a second time?!

Thunder: Do they argue with their S/O each other - if so what about?

↳ They bicker all the time when Luffy is too impatient for food lol. But in a serious way? Hardly ever, and especially not since the Whole Cake Island fiasco.

↳ I think the closest they'd come to arguing is if/when he hears Sanji talking bad about himself. Because Luffy just doesn't get it. Sanji is kind and skilled and strong, so why does he treat himself so harshly?

↳ He'll contradict every point Sanji makes against himself. Sanji thinks it's almost laughable, in a way, how his captain can accept everything about him so easily. It makes him ridiculously happy just as much as it makes him ridiculously frustrated. Because no matter how much he proves himself through loyalty and hard work, deep down Sanji doesn't always feel like he deserves to be accepted like this– so wholly, so genuinely– or to be viewed in such a forgiving light.

↳ I don't think Luffy would get upset in return, unless WCI gets brought up... and specifically if it gets brought up in a way where Sanji hints at any feelings of guilt he carries over it.

↳ Because nope, Luffy is not having any of that. He doesn't hold grudges over WCI, and more importantly than that, he doesn't regret a single thing that happened there. He doesn't regret enduring for Sanji, he doesn't suffering and hurting for Sanji, he doesn't regret risking his life for Sanji, he doesn't regret choosing Sanji and loving him. And for Sanji to ever imply that, however indirectly, would be a deep insult in his mind. Luffy does not and will not ever think that accepting help from a friend is something to feel guilty over.

↳ It’s hard, though, because Sanji can’t forget how far his captain had to push. It might not be something he ever forgets about, but he hopes to everything in him that it's something he's grown from.

Bell: Song lyrics or a quote associated with them?

世界じゃそれを愛と呼ぶんだぜ (The World Calls That Love) - Sambomaster

What connects our hearts' voices Are the things that we really fear. We say together that we'll sing like the past never happened!

Flowers can bloom even within sadness!

The world calls that "love"!

↳ This is my favorite song by Sambomaster. It's so sweet, and I feel like it really encapsulates Luffy & how he treats his loved ones.

↳ Something really special about Luffy is that he gives people the strength to admit their dreams and all their deepest desires they've held inside because they were afraid of what'd happen if they let it out. And Sanji's "I want to go back to the Sunny" scene is all of that, completely undiluted. That scene is burned into my memory istg

↳ The way Luffy had to fight and claw to get that confession out of him. I'll stop here to avoid getting repetitive with the previous section lol, but the way Luffy accepted it all in stride & treats Sanji no differently for it. Beautiful

[slurp-imagines]

did a redraw of one of ace’s expression sheets :)

[slurp-imagines]

Haikyuu-Noragami AU: kunimi

Summary: Oikawa goes out for melon bread, and comes back with a corrupted spirit. Words: 2,349 A/N: Takes place in 2014ish. Part of a series of additions to my ng-hq!! AU centering around Oikawa.

CW: injury. not actual self-harm, but i realized after writing it that the description may sound similar. the specific section is marked w/ indented text. for those familiar w/ noragami, the lead-up also makes it obvious what's going to happen.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 read on ao3

His Kunimi is a calligraphy brush. He is long, thin, and decorative: white porcelain with delicate inlays of jade and ivory, comprising a pattern of swirling clouds. The plush wolf hair tip dampens with ink as soon as he touches bristle to paper.

Oikawa wields him steadily in the mornings, accustoming himself to a new hobby. Bokuto had looked at him with a disapproving frown, once six decades ago, when he arrived at Her Majesty’s palace alone on the morning of Ooharai.

But if you don’t call their names, your shinki will be sad! he’d declared, hands fixed squarely on his hips. Oikawa had merely sighed at the time, but once he reached his patrol zone he allowed Ganki to materialize around his body.

Iwami had never seemed to care about his alternate name’s scant usage– not enough for Oikawa to feel it, anyway– but that was straight-shooting, brick-headed Iwami. This one may be different, and he figures that the least he could do is test the waters.

Oikawa Tooru is hardly an artist, so he writes. Sometimes the ink is patchy, or dissolves from page into air. But Kunimi tries, and so does Oikawa as he silently runs the brush through the same strokes twice or thrice.

He writes of his first shinki, his burly appearance and gruff voice and elaborate divine garments. He writes of the followers who visit his shrine often, their wishes ranging from mundane to life-altering to near impossible for a god of his kind, and he continues until he looks inside himself and sees Kunimi’s flat expression of boredom.

He chuckles. This one is young and lethargic, perhaps to a troublesome extent. Only time will tell in that respect, but right now he is undeniably cute, with his long bangs hanging over his face and his lips curling into a small, childish frown.

“Tired yet?” the god asks. He doesn’t know if the divine space is stuffy or cold or whatever else. He ought to ask them one day.

His new shinki only shrugs, turning his head to the side, so Oikawa relents. “Revert, Kuni.”

The boy materializes across the table from him, seventeen and awkward and perhaps still too immature to really care about the things Oikawa would want those who serve him to care about. As of yet, he still cannot fully decide whether this shinki may be more trouble than he is worth; but as with his Iwami many centuries ago, his simple intuition makes him willing to hedge his bets.

+

Oikawa had found this one merely days ago.

.

He is walking to a 24-hour convenience store when he glances the boy across the street, sitting on a bench underneath a nearby streetlight. He is barefoot, pale toes pressed against the metal seat, with his knees curled to his chest and held together by the cage of his arms. He is dressed in a navy blue yukata, not entirely unusual for summer but certainly unusual for the urban setting; and Oikawa looks at him and instinctively knows they are of the same shore.

But just before the god turns and continues about his night, the loose spirit raises his head, both their eyes meeting and widening for a stretched, pregnant few seconds.

Then he makes what is probably the most animated face the god will ever see from him. It shifts from disbelief to relief to restrained desperation, and his feet hastily drop to the ground so he can stand up and call to the god from across the street.

“You can see me,” he says. “A-Are you...?”

The boy does not seem to know exactly what he is asking yet, so Oikawa spares him the trouble of trying to piece his jumbled thoughts together.

“Yes, I am.” He pauses briefly when he registers the boy’s purpling patches of skin. He plasters a faux smile on his face, raising a hand in goodbye as he takes his first step away. “Sorry, but I already have a shinki. I’m not looking for another one. Good luck in your search~”

“What the hell is a shinki?” Oikawa feels a shred of pity watching him cross the street to trail after him, expression tired and confused. The boy seems to discard that question, though, his more urgent concerns taking precedence. “I’m... sort of lost. Can you help?” He speaks with a hushed tone and quick voice. “Everyone else in this city has been ignoring me. The police kept acting like they forgot about me every few minutes, and...”

The god stops abruptly, leaving the boy to stumble into place at his side. “Could you move back a little? You’re blighted and it’s freaking me out.”

He appears almost startled for a moment, but he snaps his mouth closed and obliges; although the step he takes back is deliberately pronounced, as if unable to hide his irritation at the curt request.

“Let me think for a moment,” Oikawa says, and the boy heeds the request with his silence, staring down at his feet while he rolls a piece of gravel underneath his toe.

And the god takes the opportunity to clearly examine his face. The spirit’s eyes are fragile, betraying a helplessness that his slightly furrowed brows and taut lips attempt to conceal.

All of a sudden there is a churning feeling in Oikawa’s gut– something foreign and slippery, which forces the words, “Just come with me,” to be flung from his throat.

His words seem to surprise the both of them, and Oikawa lingers in the awkward silence a beat longer than necessary before he huffs and turns on his heel.

“What?” the boy calls dumbly.

“Come with me, I said!” he calls back, not bothering to disguise the irritation in his voice. He only came out here for milk bread and melon soda, and now he has to make the walk back to his shrine with an unnamed spirit who doesn’t know the first thing about the Far Shore. Apparently a peaceful night walk was asking too much of his luck these days. “Those dark spots on you– they’re painful, aren’t they? I’ll take you somewhere you can purify it.”

He refuses to be the one who has to explain everything. Iwa-chan can handle that, he decides.

.

A little way into the small woods by one of his shrines sits the Oikawa household. Slightly beyond is a natural spring, carved out from the rocky hillside, around which the household has situated its back garden. It’s pretty during the day, and still quite pretty at night underneath the moonlight. Normally it’s something the god would flaunt, but tonight he leaves his guest no time to dawdle, pointing him toward the babbling spring and directing him to bathe.

The boy looks skeptical, so Oikawa lets him dip his hand in first and watch his affliction be purified, all of the pain and discoloration wisped away almost instantly by the chill of the water.

Now convinced, he promptly begins to remove his yukata, and Oikawa’s eyes widen.

The boy is blighted, indeed– all along his left arm, and just beginning to wrap around his shoulder. But not only that. Between stretches of gnatty, purpling flesh sit islands of teeth . Groups of them, surrounded by slightly raised hills with patches of wispy gray, forming what could only be the beginnings of a snout.

Oikawa shudders at the sight of it, feeling his stomach churn even as he turns to allow the boy his privacy.

He has seen many ayakashi, too many to count over the years, and blight is nothing new to him. But perhaps it’s the mixing of flesh and non-flesh, of human and non-human. Perhaps it’s the apprehension of what is to come. Of being slowly eaten from the inside out by a creature of misery. Of an anger which has made its home in you before you could stop it; one which you can no longer purge by yourself, one which taints and swallows until there is nothing left pure.

Or– and this is the explanation he prefers– perhaps it is simply the instinct of a god, warning him against taking an impure servant.

Whatever it is, Oikawa Tooru has never been comfortable at the sight of such a corrupted spirit.

He doesn’t turn around until after he hears the movement of the water, and finds that the boy has submerged himself completely. Oikawa tries to count the bubbles that appear at the surface before the spirit rears his head again.

“All done?” Oikawa asks. Please be all done. Please be all done. Please be all done.

The boy raises his arm so they can both inspect it. Although some of the purpled flesh has been cleared, all of the teeth remain, and Oikawa visibly cringes.

“That’s bad, isn’t it?” the boy says, the beginnings of concern replacing his placid expression. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, though.”

“It’s covered in spring water. Of course it doesn’t hurt,” Oikawa says, crossing his arms over his chest. He should never have taken this kid with him. Now he has to–

His stomach flips again. Now he has to…

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters.

Then, louder, he calls for his shinki.

.

Oddly enough, slicing without killing is foreign to him.

To bleed a pig was one thing. But to hurt over and over again, clumsily working through an inexperienced surgery, was another. Extermination was quick. Extirpation was grotesque.

The boy sits on the floor of their living room, his eyes closed even though his head is already turned away. Oikawa is kneeling diagonal to him, holding his hand so the affected forearm sits across the god’s armored knee. The boy’s body is still but tense when Oikawa touches Ganki’s blade to the first tooth.

“Brace yourself, Ganki,” Oikawa says, hand squeezing the weapon to help stop his nervous twitches. The angle is awful, the katana far too long for such a job of precision. Oikawa has to pinch the very bottom of the blade and nestle the hilt between his remaining fingers, as if the whole thing were the world’s most poorly designed boxcutter.

“Speak for yourself,” Iwami says. “I’m not going to get dull on you.”

It would only hurt the boy more if he did.

Oikawa digs the blade in.

He shimmies it back and forth, then maneuvers it down and forward and scoops, until the tooth pops out. The boy immediately releases all his breath, arm going slack. Oikawa looks at him, thinking he must be on the verge of passing out, but the boy is still sitting with his eyes screwed shut and his other hand wrenched in the fabric of his yukata.

“Do the next one,” he urges when Oikawa has been stalled for a few moments. “Don’t drag it out.”

Even though he says that, the boy still has to choke back a whimper at the next press of sword to skin.

+

Iwami fixes a futon in the living room for the young spirit.

“If you can’t find a master after this,” he says, rolling out the mattress, “just sleep in one of Oikawa’s other shrines. Ayakashi can’t enter. And you can use the purifying water there for any blight, too.”

Oikawa hovers at the room’s entrance, arms crossed and muttering under his breath. “Don’t just invite people into my shrines like that. He’ll turn into a freeloader before you know it.”

Iwami scoffs, not even bothering to look over or otherwise dignify his master with a response.

“Don’t listen to him, kid. His shrines are full of loose spirits and he knows it.”

“As if I can keep track of them all at once!”

.

The god and his guidepost see him off the next morning, now purified, newly clothed, and fully fed.

The spirit bows to them both on their doorstep, a full ninety degrees. "Thank you for all your help," he says, and Oikawa is quietly surprised by the show of sincerity.

"Hurry and find someone to serve," he says, and the boy straightens to fix him with that same quietly apathetic expression Oikawa had already grown used to. "Before you become ayakashi food for real next time."

"I will," the boy replies, the words barely muttered louder than a huff of breath, and Oikawa laughs softly as the spirit makes his leave– teenagers are quite unpredictable with their moods. Before he can say anything else, he's watching the boy's back as he walks down their cobblestone pathway, the scuffing of his shoes drowned out almost immediately by the cicadas.

He doesn't realize he's staring until he hears a slight creak of wood to his right as Iwami shifts his weight. Oikawa finally turns, only to find his guidepost already watching him as he leans against the other side of the door frame. “You sure about this?”

There's a beat of silence while Oikawa purses his lips, lasting only until the thought crosses his mind that it's ridiculous how he's even pondering the question.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Iwami.” He all but stomps his foot. “I’m not going to take in a whole shinki just because you think I should be more generous.”

“I didn’t say any of that. You already helped him plenty,” Iwami says evenly, and it makes Oikawa feel simultaneously defensive and ridiculous. His shinki has developed a knack for that over the years, for showing such steady acceptance that it throws the god’s anger off balance. Like always, it has his irritation waning more quickly than he wants.

Iwami leaves the front door open, and returns to the living room. “I just asked if you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” he says immediately. But even while Oikawa crosses his arms over his chest, he breathes long and slow through his nose, staring through the window at the boy traveling down the footpath.

He waits until Iwami is out of sight before he raises his hand and calls out the door.

+

Thou art Kuni.

As a vessel, Hou.

And as a human: Kunimi.

[slurp-imagines]

I love your writing so much! I was wondering if I could request luffy, zoro and sanji headcanons about their s/o being kidnapped to be married?

thank you anon! <3 sorry this took a while, I hope this measures up to expectations. kind of imagined it as a WCI-esque scenario. very high stakes, very strong kidnappers etc.

When their s/o is kidnapped to be married: Luffy, Zoro, & Sanji

Monkey D. Luffy

↳ We kind of know already because of what happened to Sanji lol. But when it’s his s/o? It’s a new level of personal for him

↳ The way he would TEAR across the ocean for you. With Sanji, Luffy could be reasonably patient because he knew when the wedding was & that they’d make it in time. But in this case, there’s just a restlessness to him that he can’t shake. He wants you back, now. He wants you in his arms, now. He wants to see you safe and he wants to make things right– and he wants that now.

↳ But still, him wanting it obviously doesn't make it true. (Or not immediately anyway, lol.) So while they’re traveling to you, he's just weirdly solemn and stony... Sitting on the lion head and staring hard at the open ocean type of vibe. And sure, he does that often, but this tension isn't usually accompanying it. And needless to say, no one likes seeing him upset.

↳ The rest of the Strawhats probably end up taking turns trying to distract him. It works for a little bit at a time, too. He'll listen to Brook's music or go fishing with Usopp or enjoy the treats Sanji offers him. He'll enjoy himself and he'll enjoy being with his friends... Until he looks for you to join in on the fun, and then he remembers that you're gone.

↳ He doesn't like brooding, though. It's so upsetting and angering that you were taken, but he tries to channel it into action. He just can't wait to get at the crew that kidnapped you. He's literally raring and ready to go as soon as their ship is in sight. Probably flings himself over there the second someone says the ship is in sight

↳ LOTS and lots of hugs once y'all are finally reunited. He's grinning from ear to ear all day, he's so glad you're safe. He's glued to your side!

Roronoa Zoro

↳ It sets his blood boiling.

↳ Zoro is mentally kicking himself every second of the day until they get you back & even long after. He can’t stand the thought that he wasn’t there to protect you, or far worse, if he was there and failed to protect you from your kidnappers.

↳ He doesn’t feel restless like Luffy. It’s the exact opposite, really– Zoro is laser focused. All of his emotions go straight into training, into preparing for your rescue. He can’t have a second wasted. Chopper probably worries a lot that he's overworking himself, but Zoro is just. Relentless.

↳ He can't even speak once you're reunited. He can't do anything but hold you tightly against his chest for a long few moments, and just breathe until he feels his spirit settle. There was probably so much tension in his body that he didn't even realize he was holding this whole time, not until he finally has you with him again and he can spare a moment to feel relieved.

↳ When the two of you pull apart, he looks you up and down for injuries. Even if he doesn't see any, even if he dreads the answer, he still asks you if anyone has hurt you. Good luck to anyone who did. :)

↳ He usually isn't the type to dwell on the past, but this incident probably haunts him for a while. Not that he gets swept away by the memory of it, but it's something that he briefly recalls while he's training, or while he's up against a strong opponent. And the all-consuming dread of that moment where he learned you were taken, just washes over him anew, and recedes as quickly as it arrived. It always puts a new gust of wind in his sails, makes him push himself that much harder.

↳ He can't stand the thought that anything like this could happen again, and especially not because of his own weakness.

Sanji

↳ Outwardly, Sanji tries to keep a brave face, but privately, he’s horrified. The crew notices, but they're kind enough not to comment directly.

↳ "Don't worry. We're gonna get Y/N back." The crew tells him this so many times. Sometimes it calms him for a little while, particularly when it's Luffy or Robin saying it. Hell, even Zoro telling him so (in less-kind way) could make him believe it a little more. But he can't always help the nagging insecurity in him, the horrible "What if? What if, what if, what if" questions that plague his mind the entire time you're gone.

↳ He remembers all of his time when he was on Whole Cake Island and hopes to everything that you aren’t even half as miserable right now as he was back then. But he can't stop his imagination from running. Every single time, he thinks he's come up with the worst-case scenario. But soon enough he'll think up something even worse.

↳ Sanji tries really hard to distract himself. Training, cooking, organizing and re-organizing the pantry. Sometimes he can't keep his hands from shaking. Sometimes he just needs to stop what he's doing and pace the room, running his hands through his hair over and over. He goes through cigarettes faster than he ever has, and doesn't realize it until he looks into his last box and there's only one left. Which just stresses him out even more.

↳ But after all of that turmoil, he's surprisingly composed during the rescue. Not that he isn't angry; he's absolutely seething. But he's incredibly focused, his mind is on one track the entire time and that's getting you back. And once you're in his arms again– safe, battles over and done with– it's like all the strength just leaves his body at once. He'd literally collapse with you in his arms, shaking. He'd had so much raw fear pent up this whole time, the relief of finally being with you again is enormous.

[slurp-imagines]

AO3 Masterlist

➥ FUJISAWA LOSER (HAIKYUU) The opposite train slows to a stop, opening its doors to the lone high school third-year who stands on platform 3A. Or: Ennoshita Chikara leaves high school behind, and it doesn’t hurt quite the way he expected it would.

➥ STORM & HARVEST (HAIKYUU-NORAGAMI) Oikawa Tooru: A vengeful spirit, murdered in the quiet center of a dreadful storm, deified and worshiped to appease his anger.

➥ HUMANS WHO FEEL SICK ARE FAMILY (HAIKYUU-NORAGAMI) Snippets of the lives of Oikawa Tooru and his shinki. Sequel series to storm & harvest.

1: marigolds Oikawa just found out what gap moe means.

2: kunimi Oikawa goes out for melon bread, and comes back with a corrupted spirit.

➥ SHE CAN PROVE IT (NARUTO, INO/SAI)

1: self-titled He feels a little more for her with each passing day. He doesn’t quite understand it all. The deciphering process can be difficult and slow-moving, but in the meantime he thinks he feels quite nice with her.

2: fear of trying He feels a little more for her with each passing day. He doesn’t quite understand it all.

[slurp-imagines]

Ino/Sai - fear of trying

words: 2,226 pairing: Ino/Sai summary: He feels a little more for her with each passing day. He doesn’t quite understand it all. A/N: sort of a sequel, but both parts can be read as stand-alones.

part one | part two read on ao3

(1)

She falls ill one day.

“It’s nothing serious,” she tells him, voice thick with congestion, after he’d let himself into her apartment. “I just caught that bug that’s been going around.”

And that is true, he acknowledges. Apparently she had gotten it from Ten Ten, who had gotten it from Hinata. Neither of those two had had their condition turn anywhere near serious. Still, looking at her feverish, pale face half-hidden under her comforter, Sai feels something twisting low in his gut.

“Okay,” he says, and stands there at her bedside wringing his hands.

Her brows furrow, and she studies his face with slightly narrowed eyes. “Is something wrong?” Her voice isn’t loud, even in a quiet room.

He presses his lips together and thinks about her question, long enough that she grows impatient and calls his name to prompt him.

“I don’t know,” he blurts out, because at this point he really does not know if something is wrong. It is not serious. She simply needs rest. And water and nutrients. There should be no twisting of anything anywhere in his gut.

She is fine, and she sits up in bed to demonstrate it. “Are you feeling alright?”

Instead of answering right away, he brings his hands to gently ease her back into the pillows, because she is the sick one, not him. She allows it, but not without complaint. “I won’t keel over and croak just from sitting up, Sai.”

“I understand.” And he does understand. He does. “Please just rest, beautiful.”

She snorts, but gathers the covers back around her shoulders with a knowing look in her eyes. “You should try calling me something else when I’m all sick and snotty like this,” she says. “I don’t feel very beautiful right now.”

“You are, though.”

Her cheeks are already flushed from the fever, but he can see her fluster in the way she curls her legs closer to her body, the way her lips curl into a smile she tries to force away. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

He leans down and rearranges her hair so that it lies on the pillow behind her, away from her sweat-slicked neck. “I always want you to feel better.”

(2)

This is the first time that it seems like she might actually keel over and croak if she tries to sit up, and there is nothing Sai can do except kneel in the grass and lay her down in front of the medical ninja.

“Is it serious?” he asks the medic, and Sai learns that he might just hate that word. Hate how it feels in his mouth, hate the painful tightness it leaves behind in his throat when it goes.

He dislikes even more the way kunoichi’s lips draw ever so slightly into frown. The expression is miniscule, but it is there, and Sai sees it. “I’m doing everything I can.”

That is not at all what he asked, but he decides he should let her work instead of arguing that fact.

The twisting in his gut is suddenly back, and he takes a long, deep breath through his nose in an effort to uncurl it. It does not. He presses at his stomach with two fingers, hoping he would be able to will it into submission. He cannot.

Her eye cracks open, then, red-rimmed and heavy-lidded, and Sai’s throat tightens when their gazes meet. They don’t speak; she can hardly even muster a smile at his pinched, concerned expression. So unlike himself, he’s sure she’s thinking.

Sai brushes her loose hair back off her face, fingers lingering on the skin of her cheek, before he forces himself to stand on bleeding, aching limbs. To their knowledge, they have eliminated their most recent threat, but they are still on foreign ground. He feels weary, uncomfortably off-balance as the stronger of their duo lays injured, but it falls on him to stand watch until her recovery.

Sai draws his short blade and carries it in hand. He spends hours trying to distinguish whether the sick, heavy feeling in his chest is one of sheer, undiluted dread or a desperate, desperate hope.

.

Once the worst of her bleeding is under control, he paints a great hawk and lays her across it, sick with venom, for the remaining thirty-nine kilometers back to the village.

The kunoichi completes her work during the journey, and Sai steers the bird carefully, lest he jostle her too heavily and aggravate the new, soft tissue the medic had so carefully healed.

She survives, and he remains shaken for days afterwards.

(3)

She still tends to his apartment while he’s away on long missions, and he still tends to her plants.

By now he has already memorized each arbitrary decoration she has put out. He already understands how she likes to organize her kitchen, what colors and patterns she prefers on pillows, blankets, and curtains; he already knows whose photos she likes to see on the bookshelf in her sitting room, whose photos are allowed the privacy of her bedroom dresser.

So he doesn’t go snooping when he’s alone in her apartment, but he would be ashamed to admit that sometimes the opportunity is faintly tempting, albeit easily resisted.

She tells him often that they should do their best to learn about each other organically. Even Sakura has said something similar not very long after they first met, and he recalls her advice with clarity while he makes his rounds tending her plants.

Don’t try so hard. Don’t push too much. You can’t force a relationship to develop. These things have to happen naturally. These things take time.

He checks the soil in each of her potted cacti. Three of them are completely dried out, so he carries them to her bathroom sink to drench them. He watches it closely, the soil darkening, tamped down by the pressure of the faucet, the water slowly dripping through the bottom once the soil has overflowed and the roots have had their fill.

He wonders what things would have been like with her if he had been there from the start. Like Shikamaru or Choji, predetermined as her closest confidants. Or like Sakura, an old friend whose company has always been familiar, even through times of conflicting interests.

Sometimes, briefly, he wishes that he could have been there. He wishes he could have seen her become the person he met at 16, and he wishes she could have seen him.

Normally, he tells himself there is so much time to know her. Normally, he is not an impatient man.

But if only he had not gotten to start so late.

Because in reality, there is so much time and still none at all. The only certainty is the time taken from him, the time wasted away in the grime of cold militarism.

He wishes she could have seen him. If only briefly, back then. If not for ROOT, he should have been able to see her.

But such thoughts could not even be dignified with the title of a pipe dream. They are pointless fragments of memories that would never even have the privilege of existing. They are fabrications. And there is no need to pine after them, as if they could ever be anything more. Not when they have each other now. Not when she allows him to learn her, day by day, and not when she learns him in return.

These things take time, he tells himself.

(4)

He would probably never be normal by her standards. He still can’t fully wrap his head around why she finds that acceptable.

And his lover is beautiful. That much is obvious.

His stomach churns with a new type of dread watching her and this stranger.

The man’s hand reaches out, but before the tip of his finger even brushes her hipbone, she throws her drink on him and stomps away.

The twisting remains, even while she drops into the seat next to him with a tired sigh.

“Oh, don’t be jealous,” she laughs when she sees his pinched expression. Her cheeks are flushed from the alcohol. “It’s nothing serious.”

It is, though. Or at least he thinks it is.

But he doesn’t know how to tell her, or how to even articulate it.

She peers at him with hazy eyes while he lowers his head and nurses his share of sweet plum sake. There are gears turning in her head, slowly and carefully, and he lets them. She would ask him sooner or later, and though he isn’t sure if this is the ideal environment for it, he would not lie to her if she pried.

But the moment is interrupted by Naruto, who in his drunken stupor spills an entire pitcher of water over the table. Her focus is torn from him, diverted now toward irritated scolding and clumsy patting of napkins against lacquered wood.

Sai watches her and breathes deeply, and the tension in him loosens ever so slightly. He’s unsure if it means he’s relieved or disappointed.

(5)

He cries to her one night about it, in a way that is just as much liberating as it is pitiful.

It has been over a month since she threw her drink on the man at the bar, and she looks startled and concerned when he brings it up. It was so minor to her. It was minor, and that knowledge only makes his chest clench even tighter. He places a hand there, as if that would help it, but his breathing doesn’t become any less clipped.

“I worry about us sometimes,” he says, staccato-placed words through a stream of tears. “I don’t know where this feeling comes from. It hurts.”

Couples will do this for one another every so often. He knows that much. They hold one another until the other stops shaking, tethering them as they wait for the storm of their emotions to pass. They wipe away the other’s tears and hold their face and kiss their dampened cheeks, they hold the other’s hand and listen to their whimpered admissions of pain.

She does it all for him now, and the gentle acts of kindness leave him so clouded and weary that he thinks he might end up falling asleep, sniffling against the curve of her neck, if he isn’t careful.

“I want to be everything you want,” he says. The bedroom is bathed in sunset yellow and hazy shadows. Her loose hair glows with the traces of day seeping in through the window, soft and smooth while he runs his fingers through it. He takes a lock in his hand and presses it between two of his fingers, thumb running up and down, up and down. The repetitive motion is soothing, and he gathers his breath to speak again. “I want to be good to you.”

“You are good to me. You always have been,” she tells him, and her eyes are glistening too, now. They don’t look as blue, layered with the warm tones of approaching dusk. Her hands travel back to his face, cupping the angles of his jaw with a firmness that tells him she is not willing to argue her point. “You’re the only one I want, Sai. It’s only you.”

The words are soft on his ears, and fill his chest with that flower-blooming feeling that he has never been able to name. What normally is welcomed now settles like tar in his stomach, a swirling pit of doubt and unease.

But silence fills the room, and he can’t gather his thoughts quickly enough before she continues.

“I didn’t know you were so worried about this,” she says. “I would have said something earlier…”

He normally isn’t this worried. He normally is fine. The words get stuck in his throat, so he lowers his face and shakes his head.

“No, Sai, I mean it,” she urges, hands falling to his arm and shoulder. “If something like that bothers you, please just tell me. I don’t want you to feel like I’m looking at anyone else, because I'm not. Not now, not ever. Okay?”

And he doesn’t want her to have to tell him any of these things. He doesn’t want to need her reassurance. He just wants these feelings to disappear, or to never have seized him in the first place.

“I don’t know how it’s so easy for you,” he blurts, and her expression crumples for a moment.

“It-It isn't something special about me,” she says, sniffling into his hair. “It was just made so much harder for you. And it’s not fair.”

His endurance is fraying. What was once a gentle sap of strength has now become a wide-open valve, all his patience and leniency for himself now circling the drain before getting washed away completely.

He wants to run away from these feelings. He wants to be smothered in them for the rest of the night and after. He wants to close his eyes and be unseen. He wants to hold her and be held by her and he wants her to choose him.

It’s too much to process, too complicated to unpack while the sun is still up.

For now, the best he can do is wrap his arms around her and hope things will come to pass.

[slurp-imagines]