#ignore the sword and his right hand they suck I know

[scrollingfan]

Testing an artsyle on the Kamado siblings

[steddiealltheway]

One thing that sucks about fighting monsters from some weirdly dusty and gooey parallel universe to your own… is going back to school. Specifically going back after telling all your friends that they’re actually trust fund assholes and your girlfriend - ex-girlfriend - ends up with the one guy she swore up and down was just a friend.

Not that Steve really blames Nancy for that. Jonathan’s a good dude. Plus, it’s not like Steve was the perfect boyfriend or anything. He tried, but maybe it just wasn’t enough.

Maybe it’ll never be enough.

Steve takes a sudden right, making a detour from all the student rushing into the lunchroom in favor of being anywhere but there. He barely registers walking out of the school until he notices the woods in front of him. Why does everything always lead him back to here?

He doesn’t know why, maybe it’s what Dustin call his “mother hen” instinct, but Steve continues walking into the woods, wondering if maybe there are more monsters lurking about that he can spot early this time. God knows he would do anything for those kids - not that he would tell them that. Dustin especially does not need the ego boost.

So Steve wanders, listening closely for any unusual noise.

And then he hears one.

It’s just the thud of something metal sounding against maybe… a tree? Something solid. Then a crunch of leaves. And…

Singing?

Steve slowly peaks around a tree and finds the source of all the noise.

Eddie Munson.

Steve nearly rolls his eyes but finds himself fondly watching the boy as he drums on a wooden picnic table singing some song Steve has never heard. It’s when Eddie does some type of ridiculously uncoordinated twirl that Steve ends up snorting. It’s loud enough that Eddie ends up hearing it, startling mid turn and head bang that has him misstepping and landing right on his ass.

Steve tries to let some sheepishness bleed through the amusement in his expression. “You okay, man?” He asks, stepping forward to offer him a hand.

Eddie eyes it wearily. “Depends. What are you doing out here?”

“Just…” Steve stares at Eddie for a moment, trying to find a normal answer, but instead he shrugs and sighs, “I don’t know, man.” He takes another step closer and pointedly looks down at his offered hand.

Eddie narrows his eyes at him before taking it carefully. Steve is caught off guard by the cold metal rings but hauls Eddie up easily who wobbles when he gets to his feet. “Thanks,” Eddie breathes out, lingering in Steve’s space.

Steve just nods and wonders if Eddie Munson’s eyes have always been so big and brown.

“So, Steve Harrington,” Eddie starts, drawling out his name while taking a step back and brushing dirt off his pants, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Steve raises an eyebrow.

Eddie marches over to the picnic table and gestures dramatically at his lunch box. “I’m assuming you’re here for the goods?”

“The what?”

“Drugs, Harrington. Are you alright?” Eddie asks with a tilt of his head leaning forward as if assessing him.

Steve shrugs. “Fine. And no. I’m not here for your drugs which you evidently keep in your lunch box for any teacher to find.” Eddie’s brows furrow. Steve rolls his eyes. “I know you sell, but Tommy usually does this part.”

“I know,” Eddie replies as he hops up on the bench and crosses his arms. He faces Steve and bends at the waist - Steve ignores the urge to reach out and steady him so he doesn’t fall again. “So what are you doing out here? Are you here to… beat me up?” Eddie asks dramatically, hopping onto the table and pretending to brandish a sword.

Steve simply raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms.

Eddie’s arms drop. “Okay. Surprising but I guess you would’ve already taken a swing if you wanted a fight.” He squats down on the table until he’s eye level with Steve. “You’re not here because of the rumors, right?” Eddie asks, dropping his voice and appearing weirdly serious.

As for the rumors, Steve’s sure he’s heard more than he can count - including one about Munson being a vampire - so he’s not sure what he’s talking about. He’s also not sure if he wants to know which rumors he’s talking about. Steve runs a hand through his hair and settles his hands on his hips. “I just needed to clear my head. I didn’t know you were out here.”

Eddie squints at him. “You’re clearing your head by taking a walk in the woods?”

“Yes.”

They hold eye contacts for a few moments, and Steve can’t really tell what they’re silently sizing each other up about. Eddie reluctantly stands up and jumps off the table. “Fine. What are you clearing your head about?”

Steve stares at him.

“What?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Eddie steps closer to him and obnoxiously twirls a piece of hair around his finger. “Because you’re Steve Harrington, and I must be the luckiest guy in all of Hawkins since I’ve got you here alone with me.”

Steve laughs loudly and gently shoves Eddie away. “Shut up.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush pink, and Steve can almost see him biting back the words “make me.” Then he’s reminded of the rumor that Eddie bats for the other team, and Steve suddenly wonders if it’s true - not that he would mind.

Steve pushes the thought away as Eddie smiles sincerely and pushes some hair in front of his face. “Maybe I wouldn’t mind the company. Plus,” he turns and sprawls back on the picnic bench, “You can tell me anything. I’m great at keeping secrets, and even if I wasn’t, it would be your word against mine.”

Steve considers what he’s said before asking, “And how crazy of a secret would you not only keep but believe?”

Eddie smiles almost manically. “Try me.”

Steve looks around wondering if the government people or whoever they were can hear him out here. He’s not sure if it’s been long enough to guarantee there’s not someone keep track of each of them, waiting for them to slip up. He also wonders how cruel it would be to unload all of this onto Eddie. Steve knows life was much simpler before he knew that demogorgans existed.

“I’ve been fighting… some monsters recently,” Steve settles on, hoping Eddie doesn’t take it so literally.

“Yeah?”

Steve nods and takes a step closer to where Eddie is sitting, gesturing at nothing as he continues, “It started when I was an asshole to Nance and then she ran off with Jonathan and the rest is history there but… they really dragged me into some heavy shit.”

“I can imagine. It’s not every day that your girlfriend runs off with another guy. Which is a shitty thing to do by the way.”

Steve tries to steer the conversation away from his failed relationship without setting off Eddie’s alarm bells. “It’s not that I really blame them. I mean you’ve seen them, everyone has, they’re kind of made for each other. Who am I to get in the way of that? Especially since I was a shitty boyfriend. But that’s not the point. Before Nance left, I was pulled into helping some…” he pauses, trying to think of a way to talk about the kids out of context without sounding like a creep. “Well, there was this guy who needed help and so… I helped him and his friends out.”

Eddie fixes him with a carefully blank look. “Helped this guy out… how exactly?”

Steve shrugs and sits next to Eddie as he figures out how to phrase things. “He… well. His cat… di- escaped! It escaped. And I was helping him find it, and we actually grew pretty close.”

Eddie knocks his knee against Steve’s. “So… you and this guy grew… close.”

Steve nods and smiles. “Yeah, he’s this dumbass genius k-,” he cuts himself off before he can say kid. “Anyways, then his friends needed help, and I helped them fight… their monsters.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. “So you helped… multiple guys… fight their… monsters?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. But that’s over and now I have to go back here and pretend that none of that ever happened. It just… sucks, man.”

Eddie nods. “Uh. Yeah. I can imagine pretending for so long is... exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve says with a laugh.

A silence falls between them and Eddie glances over at him. “You know… you don’t have to pretend with me.”

Steve smiles and wonders what not pretending means now, but it’s sounds good nonetheless. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

Eddie softly smiles and his eyes move down to Steve’s lips slowly. “Yeah?”

And oh. Oh. There was definitely a miscommunication somewhere along the way. And… okay. Fighting monsters and helping guys fight their monsters is maybe not the best phrasing. But Steve thinks he likes Eddie remaining so blissfully ignorant.

So, Steve kisses him.

And yeah. Maybe there are quite literally hundreds of different ways he could’ve let Eddie remain oblivious to the whole vague Upside Down retelling, but Steve can’t really complain when Eddie kisses him back, finding the scrape of stubble against his face surprisingly pleasant.

And Steve finds himself taking his time thoroughly allowing Eddie to believe this story that Steve wishes were true rather than the real thing. It’s only when Eddie’s watch beeps that they finally pull away for longer than a few seconds.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbles, resting his forehead against Steve’s, “Time to head back in.”

“Can’t skip?” Steve asks, wondering why he’s trying so hard to solidify his false story.

Eddie sighs and pulls away. “Unfortunately, if I skip anymore, they’re not going to let me graduate. Although right now I think spending more time with you might be more important than my diploma.”

Steve laughs and feels himself pleasantly flushing. He nudges Eddie’s shoulder with his own before standing up and offering his hand to him again. “Come on. We can’t have you not graduating again.”

“Again? Harrington, are you keeping tabs on me?”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him as Eddie takes his hand and pulls himself off the bench. “And what if I am?” He flirts easily.

Eddie smiles giddily and grabs his lunch box. “Then I really must be the luckiest boy in Hawkins.”

Steve doesn’t say anything when Eddie doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk out of the woods toward the school. It’s only as the school slowly comes into sight that Eddie drops Steve’s hand and shoves his hands into his pockets. He stops in his tracks and turns to Steve. “Hey, thanks for not pretending with me.”

Steve glances at the school before moving in to give Eddie one final kiss. He lingers in it before breaking away to say, “Thank you for listening.”

They wordlessly separate as the head back to the building, knowing that even with the few weeks of school left and both of their tarnished reputations that they can’t truly risk it all.

As Steve makes it to his class just before the final bell rings, he’s left to wonder if maybe he really does have some other type of monsters to fight. And he really hopes Eddie Munson can be there to help him with those ones again.

[mediumgayitalian]

prev

———

Hades’ favourite thing to rant about is how much his family forgets about and sidelines him. Nico has literally never once given the lecture his full attention, because why the fresh fuck would he subject himself to that, but he discovers, lying facedown on the floor of Cabin Three, that he must have internalised enough of it to remember some key points.

He is loathe to admit it, but Father is right. How come the Poseidon cabin floors are so nice and comfortable? The floor of Cabin Thirteen sucks. Whenever he has Floor Time in his own cabin, he gets bruised and cold. Injustice.

“Could you suffer quieter? I’m trying to study.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

“I’m not the one groaning in misery.”

“Shut up, Percy.”

Percy sighs heavily. There’s a loud thud as he snaps his textbook shut, and the creak of mattress springs as he shifts.

“You’re so fuckin’ irritating, you know that?”

“Coming from you,” Nico says indignantly, pushing up to glare at him. Percy makes a face back. “I am here, having a crisis, being vulnerable in front of you —”

“Oh my gods.”

“— like you suggested, to rebuild our tenuous relationship —”

“I wish the prophecy had killed me. Either one, I’m not picky.”

“— and you are studying! Nose in a book! You hate reading! You are doing this just to spite me!”

“I am doing this to pass my classes,” Percy snips. “Someone should send you to public school. You need to experience that particular level of hell.”

“Experienced hell already, thanks. Don’t need a redo.”

“Tartarus references don’t shut me up, Zombie Boy. I’ve been there too.”

“Ugh.”

Percy rolls his eyes, turning back to his textbook. Nico contemplates rolling back on the floor to Ruminate and Think (after the second failure in a row he has a much to think about, like what the fuck is he supposed to do, should he even fucking bother, is he doomed to life without love, etc, etc) but finds himself, instead, sitting upright. Watching his — friend. Watching his heavy frown, listening to the bit-back curses and the crinkle of pages when he holds the book too tightly.

He’s moody, today. Sullen. Ate his breakfast in silence and stomped off to the sword fighting arena, raising hurricane downpour around the open theatre to deter anyone from joining him. Coincidentally, Annabeth has not been seen all day.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks quietly.

Percy shrugs, glancing over then glancing quickly away. “Fine.”

“I mean. You flooded half the camp. So.”

“Just drop it, Nico. If you’re going to stay in here, be quiet.”

Nico bites back the automatic, scathing retort. Be quiet, Nicolò! Lalalalala! Don’t tell me what to do! Ugh! I hate having a little brother! Yeah, well, I hate you too!

A quick, cut-off choking sound cuts through his thoughts. He looks up, startled, to find Percy’s face red, to find him swiping angrily at his cheeks.

“Woah,” he murmurs, climbing hastily upright. He ignores the loud chanting in his brain telling him to leave, the discomfort swirling in his stomach at seeing someone cry, seeing another man cry, instead hovering awkwardly. Percy shrugs off the hand he touches hesitantly to his shoulder, and Nico holds it there, suspended, in between and outstretched.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

Nico hesitates. Of all people, he…nobody wants Nico around, when they’re —whatever Percy is. Upset. The only thing he can probably do is make it worse.

But what can he do? Leave him? Get Annabeth? Jason? None of it seems right. Instead he stands, frozen, hand still half-outstretched, eyes wide.

“You can —” He clears his throat. “Um. Did something happen?”

Percy shrugs. His eyes remain glued resolutely to his textbook, although the pages are wet and warped.

“Cause you can tell me, you know. I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything.”

Gods, he is so far out of his depth. Could Kampe come back and attack? That would be easier to deal with. Nico could handle that.

“I don’t —” the pages of the textbook crinkle under Percy’s grip — “it’s fucking stupid, is what it is.”

Hovering is not the right call. He knows that much. He scans the cabin, evaluating his options — sitting back on the floor feels like a bad plan. He doesn’t think any kind of touch would be welcomed, nor is he entirely comfortable in giving it. He doesn’t want to crowd. He doesn’t want to seem too distant.

Slowly, carefully gauging Percy’s reaction, he sits on the bed, across from him. He leaves the textbook between them, letting Percy keep pretending to read it, and tucks his legs up under his knees. He fiddles absentmindedly with his ring, chewing his lip every time Percy sniffles.

“Why’s it stupid?”

Percy shrugs again. Nico resists the urge to shake him. How does anyone deal with this shit? What the hell is he even supposed to do? He’s not Jason. He’s not Annabeth. Hell, he’s not Will, who seems to read emotions intuitively, who seems to know exactly what to do when someone is scared, when someone is upset. Even when someone is angry. He tries to imagine Will, in his position. Sitting across from a crying Percy Jackson, saviour of the world. Yesterday, one of the younger kids had tripped and scraped half the skin off their arm on the basketball court. Will had been there with a soft smile and gentle, glowing hands, speaking quietly and cracking small jokes until the kid was laughing again. Nico tries to imagine that here, soft words and lighthearted jokes. It doesn’t seem right. Would he — touch Percy’s wrist, like he did with Clarisse? Drag the fight right out of him?

Is Percy even angry? Nico has seen him angry before. Murderous. Fuming.

He’s never seen him cry.

Percy’s voice is like palms scraping hard over sharp gravel stones. “I made Annabeth cry this morning.”

The way he says it makes it hard for Nico to actually understand his words. His tone of voice is — volatile, is the best way he can describe it. Loathing. Based on the curling self-hatred dripping from the sentence Nico would assume he’d tried to kill her — he says I made her cry like he doesn’t deserve to live for it. Like he’s hoping to be punished.

“That happens,” Nico says. He swallows. “When you — love people.”

He and Bianca made each other cry a lot. He just never — stopped, never gave her half a second. Sometimes she looked at him and he knew she wanted to hit him. She never did. But he knew and she knew he knew and sometimes it would well up in her eyes, and she would lock herself in the bathroom of their room and turn on the sink and cry and cry and cry. And it ached something nasty in the cavity of his chest.

Percy sneers at his hands, flexing his fingers. “People who love you don’t make you cry. That’s just — hurting. That’s people who hurt everyone around them.”

Nico frowns. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he says venomously. “I’m supposed to be — I’m supposed to protect her. I’m supposed to keep her safe, keep her from people who cause her pain.”

“People like you?”

Percy nods.

Nico drags his teeth over his bottom lip. He thinks of bleeding fingers clinging to a tiny shaft of rock, thinks of dangerous green eyes, hard voices; thinks of a thick web clinging to a broken ankle and an abyss. Thinks of promises and oaths and choosing. Thinks of falling. Thinks of letting go.

“People who want to harm Annabeth do not jump into the Pit for her.”

The pages of Percy’s textbook have started to dry. The ink has bled, dark splotches in perfect circles. The fountain bubbles gently behind them, mattress creaking under shifting legs.

“You don’t understand what I —” He pauses, swallowing. “Did, down there.”

“D’you hurt her?”

“…I scared her.”

“Oh, well — Christ, Percy! Is that really what this — brooding is about?” He scoffs. “No shit you scared her!”

“…What?”

Percy looks at him, wide-eyed. Nico rolls his eyes.

“Aw, when you were fighting for your life in the place meant to tear your essence into atoms, did you do things that make you question your personhood? Your morals?”

“I —”

“Of course you did, dumbass! Of course you —” he takes a breath, trying to organize the jumble of thoughts in his brain — “of course the physical manifestation of darkness and distortion made you act differently than you would usually, Percy. Of course it — affected you. Gods. Of course you’re struggling.” He flicks Percy’s knee, looking at him with exaggerated exasperation. “Use your brain, why don’t you.”

A small smile quirks the corners of Percy’s mouth, although it fades as quickly as it comes. He wipes his face with his sleeve, breath shuddering.

“She didn’t scare me, though.”

“Not even once?”

“Not in the same way,” Percy admits. “I was scared, once, when I looked at her. In the death mist. But that wasn’t — her, you know? She could never scare me.”

“I mean,” Nico wrinkles his nose, trying to articulate, “I think that’s kind of abnormal?”

Percy tilts his head.

“I just mean that you have a very high threshold, Percy. For…what you’ll tolerate from people you care about.”

“Everyone has that.”

“Not in the same way you do.” He taps his knuckles, considering. “Tell me the truth — if Annabeth stabbed someone to death in front of you, in total cold blood, would you help her hide the body?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. He shrinks, a little. “Oh.”

Nico rushes to assure, placing a fleeting touch on his wrist. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. I don’t think. It’s just —” He shrugs. “I’m used to scaring people, too. I don’t mean to. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand what I — do, it’s not intentional.”

Percy opens his mouth, but Nico stumbles on.

“But you’re not — a monster, Percy, gods. No one thinks you’re a monster. Especially not Annabeth.”

Percy wiggles his finger under his watch strap, turning it tightly around his wrist, cutting off the circulation. Nico watches but doesn’t say anything.

“You’re not, either.”

Nico blinks. “Huh?”

“A monster,” he explains. “You’re not, either.”

“Oh.” Nico shrugs. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No, I mean it, dude, I — look. Listen.” Percy sighs. “You got baggage. I put some of it on you. I’m sorry.”

Hands around his — throat — angry, angry eyes — harder — bruising — you promised! you promised! you promised!

“It’s fine.” A pause. “I did shit to you, too.”

“It’s not fine. And I know you did. We can still —”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He sighs again, a long, defeated sound, and curls in on himself.

“One day you’ll forgive yourself,” Nico murmurs. “One day I’ll — me too, I guess. Me and you.”

Percy smiles tiredly. “And we’ll be okay?”

“No. You’ll still be annoying.”

He snorts. “Whatever. Drama queen.”

“Oh, I’m the drama queen, Mr. I Don’t Deserve To Be Loved.”

Percy snorts. He turns back to his textbook, fiddling with the dried page, and snorts again, trying to duck his head. Nico bites the corner of his mouth, hard. Percy glances up again, and Nico meets his eyes, and they —

Gods, they’re bad at this.

But suddenly Percy can’t choke back his laughter, and it’s wheezing and self-deprecating and still kind of teary and Nico is laughing, too, because thank the gods that shit is over. Percy’s red-cheeked and Nico is red-cheeked and neither of them are going to look at each other for a week, Nico’s sure, but for now he can roll his eyes at Percy’s melodrama and dodge his embarrassed shoving, and it’s fine.

“You should talk to Annabeth,” Nico suggests, when the giggling has toned down.

Percy picks at the torn-up skin around his nails. “Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

“Why were you lying on the floor?” Percy asks instead. It is the least subtle subject change of all time, but Nico takes it as the hint it is and drops the subject. It’s not his business, anyway. They’ll talk. He knows Annabeth better than to think she’ll let it fester, at least.

“Oh, you know. Crushing weight of being alive, mortifying ordeal of being known, et cetera, et cetera.”

“Oh my gods. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Well, serves you right then, you selfish bitch.”

Percy snorts. “What, I cry all over you and now it’s your turn to vent?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how it works. Transactional and eye-for-an-eye. Exactly as friendship should be.”

“You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Percy says, but he can’t tamp down his smile any more than he can stop his eyes from rolling, so there. Nico is exactly as funny as he thinks he is, thank you very much. A regular comedian.

Percy snaps textbook closed and sets it on the bedside table. “So.”

“So.”

Nico squirms. Suddenly he’s not sure why the hell he came in here in the first place. Are the floors in Cabin Thirteen really that bad? Surely not. Surely Floor Time didn’t have to be in Percy’s cabin.

(He blames Father for this. He’s horribly nosy. No doubt he’s passed his nosiness onto Nico, irregardless of his lack of DNA, and made Nico the way that he is. He can’t think of a single other reason he ducked into the cabin after lunch, when Percy still hadn’t shown his face.)

“Dude, come on. You came in here and whined and huffed and made a nuisance of yourself for literally forty minutes, and now that I’m giving you the attention you begged for you don’t want it? Nuh-uh. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill about,” Nico protests, “gods, can’t a man just complain in peace —”

“Ha! Not sure you can call yourself a ‘man’ if you’re voice is still cracking, squirt.”

“I literally hate you. Not joking.”

“Uh-huh. Okay.” Percy raises an eyebrow. “Well, since my guts are already spilled out and flopping all over the floor —”

“Disgusting.”

“—so it’s your turn, now.” He pokes Nico’s bicep. Nico bats him away, rolling off the bed and hitting the floor, scooting over to put more space between them. Thankfully, Percy doesn’t follow, and he exhales, settling his back against the bed frame. The mattress springs creak again as he readjusts. “You can tell me, you know.” Nico can hear the smile in his voice at the cheeky repitition. “I won’t — tell anyone. Or anything. Ahem.”

“You’re so annoying.” Nico picks at a loose thread in the knees of his pants, looping it around his finger.

Will thinks ripped jeans are stupid. He hadn’t said so outright, when Nico came back from his Aphrodite-Cabin-enforced shopping trip, but Nico had noticed his pursed lips and deliberately schooled face. When he’d pressed about it, pestering him until he’d given up with the very southern passive aggressive if you like, Nico, I love, don’t you worry about it answer, he’d gotten a forty minute rant about jeans that “sold less jean for more fuckin’ money” that made him laugh until he cried.

He yanks the thread and pulls. The hole widens.

“Oh my gods, you’re actually whipped. Is that what this is?”

Nico flushes. “Shut up.”

“It is!” Percy grins widely, wicked delight in his eyes. “You are literally thinking about him right now! You might as well be kicking your feet! You —”

“Shut up, Percy, gods.”

“I’ve never seen you so red,” he says instead, because he is incapable of following instructions. His smile fades, face softening into something more pensive. “You must really like him.”

Nico shrugs. Is that what he feels for Will? Gorgeous. I’ve been crushing on you forever. He likes a lot of people. You always know just what I need. A lot of people aren’t Will.

“He’s not scared of me.” No matter how much he fiddles with it, the metal of his ring is always cold. Cold hands, he supposes. He never heats up much. “Or. intimated. Creeped out. He thinks I’m —”

He clamps his mouth shut. A bubble of something expands in his chest, growing out of his lungs, past his shoulders, pushing his throat closed. He swallows, hard, trying to shove it back, but — Nico! Hey! You think I couldn’t stand to see a friendly face? No way, Death Boy, no more Underworld-y magic for you! I can literally feel you fading! My hands are still shaking — here, feel.

“Gorgeous?” The smile on Percy’s face is teasing, but much softer than before. “I heard he — said.”

Maybe it’s the redness of Percy’s nose that hasn’t quite faded, or his still-puffy eyes, but finally the bubble pops, and Nico sighs, tipping his head back until it rests on the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes. After a beat of hesitation, callused fingers brush through his hair, ruffling it, lingering awkwardly before pulling away. He smiles.

“Yes.”

“…Really? He just up and told you, that he had a —”

Percy stumbles on the words. Nico peeks one eye open and grinning wryly. “Yeah. He’s a hell of a lot braver than I am. Or maybe he’s just shameless.”

“He was always really intense about being your friend.” Percy screws up his face, tilting his head as if envisioning it. “I didn’t understand what that meant, at first. I didn’t get…the reason? Behind it? If that makes sense.”

“You forgot about gay people,” Nico says drily. “I know.”

“This is true,” Percy admits. He grins, sheepish. “That’s an L on my part. Every time me and Annabeth went looking for you he’d somehow know about it and ask us a bajillion questions when we got back. I just thought he was really into necromancy, or something, but now it’s like…damn.”

Nico covers his eyes with his hand, fighting back an embarrassed smile. He thinks your eyes are a tie between moonstone and agate, in case you were wondering. There is literally not a single soul in this camp unaware about how much he likes you.

“You’d think it would be easier to get him to go out with me, then.”

“It hasn’t been?”

Nico throws his hands up. “No! He doesn’t — I got him flowers, Percy, and he ground them up to make a poultice. He thought the rock I got him was a bribe. I open every door for him and I always pull out a chair for him at counsellor meetings. I make sure to stand up first when we’re sitting together and offer him a hand. I don’t know what else I can — do, gods.” He makes a noise of frustration, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m being as obvious as I can be. What am I gonna have to do to get him to realise? Fuckin’ — tattoo his name on my forehead?”

Percy slides his hand into his pocket, pulling out his pen. He twists it around his fingers, fiddling with the cap, picking at the plastic casing. He uses the end of it to trace mindless swirls on his thigh, which Nico can’t help but feel is dangerous. One wrong move and he better hope Nico can drag him to the fountain fast enough to stabilize him. But his eyes are far away, teeth gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“There is a chance,” he says slowly, “that he…knows.”

Nico frowns, turning to face him properly. He looks resolutely at his lap. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I — well.” He does finally uncap his blade, staring at the soft glow of the bronze, rubbing his thumbnail over the leather handle. “I. Knew,” he says haltingly. “That Annabeth liked me. I —”

Nico watches him carefully. This is…news, to him. He didn’t keep up much on camp drama about the two of them — for obvious reasons — but he hardly had to. Even during his brief, one or two day stops at Camp, Percy and Annabeth gossip was impossible to avoid. People talked about them constantly, about how much they obviously cared for each other, how oblivious, especially, Percy was. It used to give him a twisted sort of hope.

“You…knew? And you didn’t do anything?”

Percy winces. “She got frustrated with hiding it. She kissed me, once, before I blew up St. Helens. And I just —” He shrugs. “I couldn’t believe that someone like her would want anything to do with someone like me.”

It’s impossible to miss his meaning, to miss the self-directed bitterness at the end of his words. Nico recognises it because he practically invented it. Someone like me. Someone disgusting, ugly, unworthy. Someone bitter and twisted and wrong. Someone so undeserving.

“I think Will is like me,” Percy continues softly. “That — insecurity.” He says the word quickly, like he might be able to hide it in the rest of the sentence. “I think he thinks very highly of you. And I think it’s hard for him to believe that you want to — to lower yourself, to be with him.”

“That’s inane,” Nico argues. “He’s — bright and kind and smart and — he’s fucking everything, what is he —!”

“He grew up a healer in a camp full of warriors. Full of talented people,” Percy murmurs. “When you’re surrounded by people who know what they’re doing, it’s easy to feel like a loser.”

Nico opens his mouth, closing it again. On principle he doesn’t agree with Percy. It doesn’t make sense. Every single person at this camp has relied on Will in more than one way for as long as he’s been here — as long as he’s been healing them. How could he not know what his purpose is? How could he not realise his talents?

Ace bandage, sound and unwound. Hard blue eyes, self-directed sneer. I’m just a healer.

“He’s not a loser,” Nico says eventually. “I don’t think he’s a — loser.”

Nico thinks he’s quite a bit more than that, actually. In fact if all words in the any language he knows, ‘loser’ is probably the least apt to describe him.

“How do I make him realise? Make him —”

Percy shrugs. “Took Annabeth several years and I still think I’m — well. I still struggle. You’ll have to be patient.” He glances over, and that mischevious smile is back on his face, the one that promises trouble and guarantees Nico an excuse to kick him. “Or, you know, you could just tell him that you think he’s bright, and kind, and smart, and beautiful, and —”

Nico does indeed kick him. He falls back against his pillow, laughing, curled against his side.

“I did not — I did not say beautiful,” Nico says hotly, “that was not on the list, you total jackass —”

Percy only laughs harder, no matter how many times Nico kicks him.

———

next

[generalsmemories]

Hello author! Can I request from angst prompt the angst sentence #2 and angst scenario #4 with Jing yuan? This is my first time doing stuff like this. I don't know if I'm doing it right😅 if not feel free to delete! May you have a wonderful day!

A shoulder to lean on

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: breaking down mid-hug, "can you call me that again?" and "you haven't changed" "...do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?" || 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, a miniscule of high cloud quintet lore, my personal hc that jing yuan was a tiny bit of a crybaby when he was younger (it's mentioned briefly you could barely notice it)

✧ a/n: after jingliu's companion quest the need to give this man a hug just increased by tenfold. but you did everything correct dear anon, thank you for participating in the event! not beta-read cause the idea kicked me in the face at like 1 AM so i had to hurry before i lost it. though i did struggle trying to incorporate the last sentence LMFAO.

"Do you accept this new position as the general of the Luofu, Jing Yuan?"

Sometimes he wonders if things would've gone differently if he said no that day, had politely declined the offer. He had dreams after all, dreams that wasn't limited to the Luofu - a dream that was to reach the stars, and further than that.

"It would be my honor."

But as fast as those worries came, it quickly faded away with time. Forgotten amidst the chaos that immediately happened the moment he took the mantle of the General.

"General, there's another meeting with the Six Charioteers."

"General, the Marshal is requesting your presence."

"Even if you've became the general, we would still need a strategic mind and another sword out on the battlefield, what do you say?"

He didn't mind at first.

"General! The high elder has...!"

"General, we have succesfully captured Imbibitor Lunae, what are the High Preceptors orders for him?"

"General! The swordmaster has succumbed to mara!"

If he could serve the Luofu to the best of his abilities then he would. He loved Luofu after all. It would be no greater honor than to be able to govern it and protect it.

"General! There's an urgent message from the Xianzhou Yaoqing and Xianzhou Fanghu!"

"General, we will keep losing more men to the Denizens of Abundance at this rate, the only way to stop this war once and for all is through the Reignbow Arbiter!"

But after centuries of the same title being called out, of the same courtesy and respect given to him at every corner and at every second of his life, he starts to wonder.

"General!"

When was the last time he heard someone call out his name?"

"Jing Yuan."

He sucks in a deep breath, eyes snapping open upon hearing his name. There's a warm hand cradling his cheek with a thumb stroking his skin patiently - but no words have been said after someone had uttered his name.

It's quiet - the noise inside his head had seemed to morph back into the same mild headache he's gotten used to ignoring every day. A pain that makes him realize he's no longer forced to witness what had happened in the past, the warmth from the hand on his cheek confirming the fact he's back in the present.

Back in today's Luofu - a peaceful Luofu not plagued by any war, a Luofu he had managed to keep in peace for centuries.

He let's out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, his eyes finally adjusting to the room around him. His vision is a bit hazy, but he can still make out the interior of your shared house.

There's a bed underneath him, a blanket covering half of his body and the sound of the breeze blowing through the wind chimes which makes them make a clear sound. And when he averts his gaze from the ceiling to the presence beside him, he finds himself locking eyes with your own - a gentle smile painting your lips.

"Good morning, I take it that you didn't sleep that well tonight?" you ask, and Jing Yuan opens his mouth to say something, whispering something so quietly that you couldn't even hear it even when you're this close to him, "I won't be able to hear you at all if you continue to whisper like that, you know?"

"... Can you call me that again?" he finally manages to utter after a beat of silence, the requst making you cock your head to the side in confusion - but it doesn't take long before your eyes widen slightly in realization, before immediately softening.

"You haven't changed at all, have you? Jing Yuan."

And that's all he needed to hear before he finally breaks. You can hear a low whimper come from him before you flinch away in surprise when he suddenly rises to an upright position. But you're not able to move back fast enough before an arm hurriedly wraps around your waist to force you closer to him.

"... Do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?" he breathes out, voice finally returning to him after hearing you call out his name again.

His free hand cradles the back of your head, pressing you closer to his neck while he almost shrinks into you, trying to press you closer than you already are.

Almost as if wants to protect you - from what you don't know.

But he's shaking, the arms enveloping you in his embrace are trembling slightly and you can feel his voice shake whenever he breathes in and out, his own face pressed against your head.

"A good way, what else? Because even after everything you've gone through, standing tall as the general of the Luofu-"

You ignore how he physically flinches upon hearing you say that title.

"You're still the same crybaby of a Jing Yuan that I fell in love with way before you even got your infamous nickname."

He doesn't say anything, freely letting you cup his cheeks to pull him away from your head, giving him a smile and a quick peck onto his cheek before you readjust him to rest his head on your shoulders - to which he quickly buries his face into your neck. And it's only when you wrap your own arms around his shoulders tightly that you feel tiniest of tears dampen your clothes.

You can only squeeze back, bending your head down to press your lips onto whatever part of Jing Yuan you can reach.

"It's okay to cry, Jing Yuan."

another similar ask that got incorporated

[gallusrostromegalus]

My drawing skills suck are very unpracticed but I have a mighty need to create fanart of the garbage tarot. I don't even know anything about the source material but I am in love with these idiots.

Actually... I do a lot more mixed-media than I do drawing........... Hmm...

As a Completely Unrelated Thought, what do you think Zaraki's handwriting would look like?

I'm glad you asked because there's na specific answer for AEIWAM fic! Zaraki!

(Note: in AEIWAM, Kakiyo was Tousen's adopted sister, not an unrequited crush, and she raised money to go to the academy by working as a travelling schoolteacher for a while)

---

The first time Yamamoto gets a report from Zaraki, it genuinely throws him for a loop. Its a thorough if somewhat gruesome report about the 11th dealing with a pack of hollows that had been attacking isolated villages. Nothing Yamamoto was not already used to, but reading descriptions of mutilated villagers is somehow more unsettling when the descriptions look like this:

(a stylistic example)

Yamamoto takes him to task next meeting.

(continued under the cut)

"I know you're still learning the job Zaraki, but you can't foist your paperwork off on Miss Kusajishi." Yamamoto growls.

"I... Didn't? What?" Zaraki looks extremely confused, but the Captain-General is not fooled.

"You mean to tell me THIS is your handwriting?" Yamamoto snaps, throwing the report on the table, sheets spilling out as it slid down the length of it, so everyone could see the bizarre cutesy hand it was written in.

Zaraki's face darkened, jaw clenched. "Yeah. What about it? You goin' blind as well as senile?" He growled.

"THIS IS THE HANDWRITING OF A LITTLE GIRL, ZARAKI, DO YOU HAVE THE SAME HANDWRITING AS YOUR DAUGHTER?" Yamamoto slammed his hand on the table, temperature sharply increasing around him.

Zaraki began to arch his back and crackle with Reiatsu as well, but was stopped by loud ringing chime and a hand on his arm.

Yamamoto blinked in surprise to see Tousen, of all people , holding the giant back. There was a click as Tousen fully re-sheathed his sword. Suzumushi's chime wouldn't effect either of them, but it redirected their attention very effectively.

"My apologies, Yamamoto-sama." He bowed his head before turning his ear up at Zaraki. "Kakiyo wrote about this to me. You could only afford for one of you to receive schooling, right?"

Zaraki huffed and shook himself before answering. "Yeah, I was a broke-ass bastard before this." He grumbled, scratching his neck in a de-escalation feature. "Yer sister was a fuckin' saint and a genius. Neither of you have any business tellin' the whole world though."

"I think it was an exceptionally brave and difficult thing you did." Tousen shrugged. "Even when she used that method, less than one in a hundred parents actually stuck to it, much less achieved what you have."

Zaraki started looking everywhere but at Tousen, thinking. "... wouldn't call it brave, it was just makin' sure she was doin' good in school." He muttered.

Tousen kept listening intently at Zaraki. May I tell Yamamoto-sama so he doesn't cause another scene?"

"You're going to tell me what you're muttering about whether you like it or not." Yamamoto menaced.

"My sister taught Zaraki-taicho and Miss Kusajishi how to read and write." Kaname sighed and took off his goggles to rub the bridge of his nose. "It's extremely common in the Rukongai to have to teach children whose parents have never had any kind of schooling. Many of the parents would like to go to school too, but can only afford to send their children- actually , usually only one child. It's not usually an issue of money, but time- the parents can't afford to miss fishing season, or spare any siblings because they're needed on the farm. But, when you have a parent who is as attentive and caring as Zaraki-"

"Tttch!" Zaraki huffed at Kaname, who pointedly ignored him.

"-You can get around the schooling fees and scheduling problems by telling the student that their homework is to teach their parents what they learned in school that day. The homework you give the students is for their parents to do after they pass the lesson on and grade them on how well they taught their family." Kaname explained, putting his goggles back on. "Kakiyo was in awe of Miss Kusajishi's dedication to teaching you, and immensely proud of your efforts."

Zaraki still refused to look at Tousen, but his ears were bright red.

"...ohhh." Ukitake realized. "Wow, that's... I thought it was impossible to learn how after a certain age, that's - well, I don't think it's something I could have done!"

"What?" Glared Yamamoto.

"Zaraki-taicho and Miss Kusajishi have the same handwriting because he learned how to read and write by learning her school lessons from her." Unohana translated. "-An exceptionally difficult way to learn, and commendable for even trying." She continued, arching an eyebrow at him as a warning.

"Yeah and with all due respect Yama-ji? You're not exactly in a position to be complaining about anyone else's handwriting-" added Shunsui. "Zaraki's handwriting is odd, but it's perfectly legible. Nanao-chan framed your last memo because she thought it was an abstract painting."

Yamamoto turned to Shunsui with an aggravated glare.

"I'm afraid I have to second Kyoraku-taicho." Tousen said, without an ounce of chagrin in his voice. "The kido spell on my glasses can translate nearly everyone's hand, but the only person in the ninth who can read your memos to me is third-seat Maegawa, and mostly because she's had several centuries practice."

"Wait, we were supposed to be getting memos?" Mayuri squawked. "Dammit! I thought that squiggly garbage was the fax machine breaking every other week! I disassembled that thing three times trying to fix it!"

"You can all shut up now." Yamamoto snarled, and everyone did, but there were still a lot of pointed looks around the table, and Unohana's eyebrow had not resumed it's usual curvature yet. "Please consider my complaint withdrawn."

Unohana's eyebrow arched further and she cracked her eye open to reveal a coal-black iris, going from Warning to Threat.

"...My apologies, Zaraki-taicho. That was. Inconsiderate of me." Yamamoto muttered.

"Ya gonna shut up about it now?" Zaraki asked, not quite facing Yamamoto, but back still arched.

"I will hold my judgment in check in the future." Yamamoto acquiesced, watching him.

"Sure." Zaraki grunted, shaking his shoulders to drop the subject. "Right, what the fuck were we doing?" He asked, returning to the agenda.

---

After the meeting, Tousen took a minute to stand in the late afternoon sun, exhaling and releasing the tension of the day, when someone grabbed one shoulder and plopped something heavy on the other.

"Yeh didn't have to do that." Zaraki grunted just behind Tousen's ear, his forehead resting on the small man's shoulder, half gratitude, half grumble.

"One of the responsibilities of a captain is to keep the general in check, and I had a particularly good opening to stop that nonsense for good." Kaname hummed, hand reflexively coming up to touch the giant's head on his shoulder, fingertips tracing over the scarred visage and peculiar hairstyle.

"Didn't read that in the employee handbook." Zaraki grunted, grin in his voice.

"Yamamoto wrote those handbooks, and he'd rather we let him do as he pleases. You have to learn how to read between the lines, Zaraki." Kaname teased.

Zaraki gave his strange, low clicking chuckle of amusement and affectionately mock-bit Kaname's ear before standing up, still holding his other shoulder.

"...Thanks. " he muttered, giving his arm a squeeze and stepping away. "Gotta go pick up Sensei, you talk to her if you think I need more tutoring!" Zaraki waved, striding off to collect Yachiru in completely the opposite direction from her school.

"ITS THE OTHER- oh, he'll figure it out." Kaname sighed.

The sun was low in the sky, but it was still warm, and the first Cricket of summer started chirping, startling him. Suzumushi chirped with it, singing her mournful loss of her original wielder, but not so despairing this time.

"Kaname?" Sajin asked, heard before he was felt as usual. The lieutenant's meeting must have wrapped up late.

Kaname smiled and put a finger up, indicating he should listen. Sajin did, helmet tipping slightly to hear.

"Crickets!" Sajin realized, and offered Kaname his gauntlets hand to lead him home. "...I miss Kakiyo too." He sighed.

"You're not really gone if some part of you lives on in someone else." Kaname hummed. "I realized she is not so far gone today."

"Oh?" Sajin asked. "Where does she live on?"

"Have you read any of Zaraki-taocho's reports yet?" Kaname grinned. "His hand is not his hand alone."

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 3/?

Prev | Next

Danny meets the Batfam. He almost gets what he wants

So, apparently, COVID and lack of sleep really get my creative juices going. Enjoy this next chapter.

Danny followed Damian with a distance between them. He had left the wakizashi behind but had hidden a few non-poisoned needles up his sleeve.

He studied his twin’s body language.

Damian seemed open, if a bit tense. He kept his posture non-threatening, probably to take Danny off-guard. Danny could hear the chatter in Damian’s comm. No doubt his father and other so-called siblings.

(Danny only had one sister, and she was asleep at home.)

They ended up in the park at three in the morning.

Danny wished he could put all this behind him and sleep. As always, though, his needs weren’t considered.

Danny could see the small group of people semi-hiding in the shadows with his enhanced senses. They all looked up when they heard Damian and Danny walk up to them. All of them got defensive when they saw Danny, though they tried to be subtle about it.

“Father, meet Danyal. Danyal, meet father and everyone else.”

“Boo, you suck! Introduce us, brat,” a man with white and black hair (who reeked of death, but who was he to judge) said.

“Seriously, you little demon, that’s your introduction,” a sleep-deprived teenager asked. (Honestly, sleep deprivation was such a mood.)

“Baby bat, how could you,” a blue-eyed young man asked. (Actually, a lot of the boys had blue eyes and black hair.)

The rest of the group started berating Damian for his introduction.

Danny was stunned. If anyone had even thought about doing that to Damian while in the League, they would’ve ended up with a sword through their chest. Here, these people were treating Damian like a snot-nosed younger brother…and he was letting them.

“Children,” the older man yelled out, “Enough!”

(An older man was haunting Bruce Wayne, but Danny ignored the man dressed as a butler. It wasn’t his business.)

Damian’s face got smug as everyone else quieted down. Some of them (the eldest among them) started pouting.

The older man, Bruce Wayne, walked up to Danny and held out his hand. Danny stared at it for a second before shaking it.

“It’s good to meet you, Danyal.”

“Danny, but you already knew that, didn’t you, Mr. Wayne?”

“Please, in that same vein, call me Bruce. And, yes, I have done a little bit of research before coming here.”

“Hn,” Danny hummed out.

“Great, another non-talkative one,” someone murmured.

Danny looked at the group and noticed that the sleep-deprived teenager suddenly seemed very alert with his calculating, narrowed eyes. Hmm, he would have to keep an eye on that one; he seemed like the most dangerous one. Not physically, but intelligent wise…well, Danny has learned to fear smart people.

He let go of Mr. Wayne—Bruce’s hand. (The older man following Bruce smiled gently at Danny.)

“So, to what do I owe this…unexpected pleasure,” Danny asked.

Everyone turned to look at Damian. The Heir seemed to be, was that embarrassment?

“Yeah, Demon Spawn, why don’t you tell Danny why we’re here?”

“Fuck off, Todd,” Damian hissed out.

Todd grinned. (The butler—he had to be a butler—frowned at Todd’s cussing.)

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Children, please, not before introductions.”

“Yeah, B is right. Anyway, my name is Dick,” the eldest said. He got Danny’s hand and shook it.

“On purpose,” Danny asked.

Dick laughed good naturally.

“My parents weren’t from the US and didn’t know the word's second meaning. By the time I found out, I was attached to my nickname.”

The one who stunk of death spoke next.

“Name’s Jason. I’m the second,” he was interrupted by the petite Asian girl.

“Ahem.”

“I mean, I’m the third oldest.”

“Hello. Cassandra Cain. The second eldest. And you’re my new baby brother!”

Danny blinked, “Cassandra Cain? As in the ‘One Who is All’?”

The girl nodded while giving a thumbs-up. Danny gulped. He was so screwed.

“Tt, she’s not that impressive.”

Danny gave Damian a skeptical look for the first time in his life.

“Hi, I’m Duke Thomas. Why is your aura so weird?”

Danny blinked at the random question.

“Don’t know, dude, radioactive chemicals, maybe?”

Everyone stared at him with a look of horror.

“I’m joking.”

“Oh, hah,” Duke laughed, uncomfortable.

“Tim Drake,” sleep-deprived teenager said without adding anything else—honestly, mood.

“Of course, father already introduced himself, and you know who I am,” Damian said. He always had to have the last word, huh?

The ghost spoke last (not that anyone else would know.), “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. I know you can see me, Master Danny. It is a pleasure to meet you, even if it is after my death.”

Danny ignored the ghost.

“Great. Now, back to my original question: why are you guys here? If the League is gone, why bother with the unneeded spare?”

Everyone, minus the ghost, shifted uncomfortably. Even Damian. Danny narrowed his eyes; something big was going to happen.

“Danny,” Bruce started, “we found out about you recently—”

“Yeah, very recently,” Jason said.

“—and we wanted to meet you. We—I needed to make sure you were fine. I missed so much and could not protect you due to my lack of knowledge of your existence. I want to know if you need any help, and if you don’t, I’ll be here whenever you need it.”

Danny let Bruce’s words sink in. It didn’t take long for him to put the puzzle pieces together.

“Talia never mentioned me, did she?”

He turned to Damian, “Neither did you.”

Damian looked down at his feet, looking ashamed. Danny narrowed his eyes.

Too little, too late, brother.

Danny took a deep breath.

Here I go. It’s time to sell it.

“Look, I appreciate you checking on me, but I’m fine. I have a loving family and an awesome older sister. All of my friends are here. Amity Park is my home. I don’t want to leave. Please, I was never able to ask anything for myself. I'm asking now, begging, let me stay in Amity.”

“I have looked into the Fentons and have read some disturbing things,” Bruce said.

“What, the weapons? They can’t harm humans.”

They didn’t need to know Danny wasn’t fully human anymore.

“Not only that but a portal to the afterlife.”

“So my parents are a bit eccentric. If it makes you feel better, I can give you a full, unabridged copy of their work,” Danny lied. No way in the Infinite Realms Danny would give the freaking Batman more ammunition to take Danny away.

The ghost butler frowned at Danny’s lies and gave him a look of disappointment. Hah! The jokes on him that didn’t work on Danny.

“What about the reports of these so-called ghost attacks?”

Danny waved off the man’s concerns, “They rarely happen, and when they do, we have our own hero who takes care of it.”

Bruce gave him a calculating look. Cassandra was whispering in Tim’s ear. While she spoke, Tim started narrowing his eyes at Danny. Dammit, this was why he hated intelligent people. Danny was a decent liar, but he couldn’t come up with something if there were more than one detective.

Not to mention, he heard rumors about Cassandra’s abilities.

Time to bring out the sob story.

“Please, I don’t want to leave the only family I have ever known.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze. Bruce felt the boy was hiding something. He’d have to ask Cass what she saw.

“Maybe we should let him stay, B. We can always keep in touch, can’t we, little D?”

Danny nodded vigorously. Bruce almost gave in, but he had to ask.

“What about the report of the city being pulled into an alternate dimension? The Justice League hadn’t heard about this, and I know you know that I’m Batman. You could’ve reached out whenever to let us know.”

“I don’t know. It didn’t occur to me. The threat wasn’t that bad. There were just a few more ghosts than usual. Besides, other cities have seen stuff like this. We have two heroes, and the citizens got together to fight the threat.”

“So, there was a threat.”

“Listen, dude, I’m not here to assuage your guilt. I want to stay with my family. I deserve that much, at least, right?”

Danny refused to break eye contact first. He stared down the Batman; he knew the man wouldn’t kill his family, so he felt confident asking for what he wanted. After a few moments, Bruce sighed. Danny knew he had won.

“Young man, you should really tell your father the truth.”

Danny ignored Alfred. He wasn’t the boss of him.

“Okay, I’ll choose to believe you,” Bruce took a card out, “but if anything happens, and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Danny had almost been home free. A few more minutes, hell, seconds, and he would’ve gotten away with his lies and well-crafted half-truths.

Of course, that’s when everything went to shit.

Danny’s ghost sense went off. Bruce’s gaze narrowed, and Tim asked, “What was that?”

Before he could come up with a lie, he heard him. Fucking Skulker.

“I’ll have your skin, whelp,” he shouted and fired.

Danny didn’t think. He transformed and put up a shield around the group.

It didn’t even take Danny 10 seconds. He took out his anger on the so-called hunter and sucked him up in the thermos. He was going to get a month of soup time, at least!

Danny turned toward the stunned group.

“Um, surprise?” He said while giving jazz hands.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed in anger, “Well, Phantom, is there anything you’d like to say?”

“This is why honesty is the best policy, young sir.”

“Um, you’re all dreaming?”

Bruce crossed his arms.

“Really, Danyal? You thought that would work?” Damian asked, angry.

Tim was looking at him with triumph in his gaze. Dick looked disappointed, and Jason looked entrance by Danny’s predicament. Cass was shaking her head, and Duke was, weirdly enough, blocking his eyes.

Fucking Skulker, man.

“I think it’s time you told us the truth.”

Make that two months of soup time.

Danny sighed and hovered in the air, crossing his legs. He might as well get comfortable.

Yay, Alfred has appeared. Danny was a bit rude, but considering what Damian did to him when they first met, I think Danny was being downright pleasant

Danny: Lying through his teeth.

Tim: This little bastard isn't telling us everything.

Danny: Gets caught in the lie.

Tim: Ha! I knew it. Once a demon always a demon

yeah, Tim is a bit prejudiced, not that we should completely blame him after what Damian did to him

[sanjisblackasswife]

Monster trio reacting to their dicks not being able to fit- ooh Chile 🥲

🙃😀

Monster Trio Reacting to You Being Too Tight (NSFW)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Safe Word Used, Mentions of Sex, Zoro is an Implied Virgin

Luffy

This is Luffy we are talking about he wouldn’t tell the difference unless you screamed it at him

And that you did.

“LUFFY BABY WAIT! RED! RED!”

His tip wasn’t even in completely in and it felt like he was stretching you for all you were worth.

“What?! What?!”

“You’re…You’re….”

“What you want me to stretch it?”

“NO! …the opposite actually.”

This was the first time you ever had to ask him of that and so a very smug and dopey smile crawled across his face while still being in between your legs.

“Ah…i’m too big for you today?” He sings right in your ear with a chuckle.

“Shut up Luffy are you ganna do it or n—-AH!”

He shrinks it just enough to where the painful stretch is gone, but now he has more leeway to pick up the pace in his thrusting.

“Like this!?” Luffy huffs, hands gripped the headboard, hips nearly turning into a blur pounding your cunt. “There you go !”

He did all this without pulling out once.

He’s so caring.

Zoro

You and Zoro didn’t think this would have been something you both would encounter. Nearly crying for him to stop and he was only 1/3 inside you.

Granted this is his first time.

He’s a big boy and so when you first seen his…4th sword you guided him on how to prep you nicely, stretch you out with his fingers, and everything. Zoro being an internal nervous wreck wanted to be extra cautious so the foreplay lastest well over an hour with him.

But even in that hour still couldn’t prepare him or you for how tight you were

“F-fuck! You’re so—! …Hey?”

You kept covering your face with your hands literally gnawing at your lip nearly making it bleed trying to ignore the sting and pain. Maybe it wasn’t a good day to have sex with him for the first time, because you just couldn’t understand why everything felt so painful right now.

“You should have told me, woman I never wanna keep going if this hurts!”

The last thing Zoro would ever want is to hurt you. He couldn’t care less about him needing to get off if you also wasn’t enjoying yourself.

You felt so much guilt when he slowly pulled out that you tried to insist to keep going, but he wouldn’t back down.

He ignored your cries and pouts to place a blanket over you both and cuddle as you were on top of his chest.

“Stop it dammit.” He hisses at you trying to sleep, feeling your body grind on his soft cock. You swore you could take it again, which started to annoy him because he didn’t mind not finishing.

“Can i at least….suck it…again as an apology.”

You’re so lucky he was hoping you’d offer that.

Sanji

Sanji became a quick learner of your body. He knows what to do to make your leg twitch, your back arch, even down to how you moan.

He never did any wrong when it came to giving you the upmost pleasure.

Today must have been an off day for him and you both because after 30 minutes of foreplay he felt like you were stretched out enough, but he was so so wrong.

“Sweet—ah-heart you okay? You’re tighter than usual.”

You wanted so badly to be a good girl and take it, so you nodd trying to refocus you attention on something else other than the sting, but the moment he bottoms out you practically scream in his ear.

You scared the man btw.

“OH FUCK! Y/N!? ARE YOU OKAY?!”

You felt so awkward letting out such a dramatic cry, but it just inflicted so much pain you almost shed a tear.

And you did actually.

Sanji was too afraid to move, still fully inside you he looks at your face to caress and pepper your face in soft kisses.

Sanji damn near cries too because the last thing he would ever want is for you to feel uncomfortable. You explain that you must have been a bit more tense than usual and Sanji being Sanji understands and talks you through it as he slowly pulls himself out.

“Here…Let me make it up to you.”

You wanted to try to explain to him it’s okay and yall can try again but it was too late.

Sanji’s tongue was already in between your slit before you could protest.

[silentsamlikesham]

I was surprised there wasn't more fics like this for the fandom. Macho boys need to be soft sometimes....

Zoro x Sanji

..................................

Sanji’s shoes click rhythmically off the cobblestone pavement as he stalks towards the ship. His eyes watch the cracks in the ground and the uneven bumps in the stones until they fall away to crooked lines etched into the wood of the dock.

He doesn’t lift his head as seagulls circle him, their sharp eyes catching the few bags Sanji has dangling from his wrists. He doesn’t take in the sight of sailors throwing barrels onto ships or jostling past him in a hurry to grab more rope, and food and booze from the carts that sit on the edge of the ships. 

He doesn’t flinch when the seaside breeze cuts through his hair, plastering it across the wrong side of his face as he climbs onto the Merry. Not even the splash of sea water from below, that soils the cuffs of his pants, can rip him from the haze of his foul mood.

The first time Sanji glances up from the floor, is to watch behind him as Zoro reaches the bottom of the rope ladder. He takes a brief hiatus from his gloom to watch smugly as Zoro struggles to use only his legs to get aboard.

One of his arms is coiled around a barrel of beer, the other is weighed down by as many shopping bags as Sanji could throw at him, topped with a box he’s balancing between his bicep and shoulder that contains large heavy pieces of meat. 

The swordman seems to sense he’s being watched because he peaks a look up at Sanji, his eye’s just visible under his bandana.

“You going to help me, Curly?”

Sanji tsks loudly, his brief smile at the other’s struggling twisting into a frown again as he remembers just how pissed off he is.

“Screw you, Mosshead.” 

The clack of Sanji’s dress shoes echo across the deck of the ship as he storms off towards the pantry, the door to the kitchen banging loudly behind him as it slams shut.

Zoro blinks slowly, shaking his head as he convinces himself not to think too hard about what has set the cook off. Knowing how temperamental he could be, it could be as simple as an eyelash grazed his eye, or maybe he had to buy a bruised fruit or something.

Zoro decides to ignore the temper tantrum and instead focuses on getting over the side of the ship and safely onto the deck. He kicks the door to the kitchen open, not feeling bad when it slams loudly against the cracking wooden wall. It’s not his fault someone had shut it when they knew his hands were full, and Zoro was not dropping any of stuff in his arms until he knew he’d never have to pick them up again.

“Oi, watch it moss for brains.” Sanji snarls, already halfway through unpacking one of the half full bags he’d decided not to throw at Zoro.

Zoro noisily drops everything from his left arm, the sacks opening and almost spilling their contents, while the box dents on one side. With both arms Zoro carefully drops his booze barrel onto the floor, the only thing he cared about getting safely back to the ship.

“What the hell, idiot. You better not have bruised anything.” Sanji seethes, storming forwards, his eyes not even on the products.

It was clear the cook wasn’t upset about the door, or the dropped goods. No, Zoro knew by now his rival was itching for a fight. Well, if that is the case,  he’d give him one. 

“What’s your problem, Ero-Cook? You don’t like how I handle them, then you carry them.”

Like expected, his blonde crewmate sucks in a breath before he easily spins his hips and launches a kick at the side of Zoro’s head. The hilt of a sword catches the edge of his ankle, stopping the impact by mere centimetres.

“Isn’t your job on this ship to be the pack mule?” Sanji hisses, leaning forward enough that Zoro can feel a flick of spit hit his chin. “Can you do anything right?”

The next few clashes between the pair are nasty. A pinch of hurt mixes with a wave of fury and frustration as Zoro matches the tempo of the other’s hits. They block, dodge and slam into one another, a litter of bruises and bumps being left in the wake of their moves as they throw insults back and forth.

It’s nothing new, nothing unusual between them, but it feels strange to Zoro. Sanji doesn’t feel like he’s letting off steam, not when one shoving kick almost breaks a rib, or when the next kick almost comes crashing down on his skull at practically full force, hard enough to crack bone. The cook clearly seems upset with him.

“What-” Zoro slams the hilt of his second blade into the side of Sanji’s knee, unbalancing him, “is your-” He steps further shoving into the cook and knocking him back onto his ass, the tip of Yubashiri pointing down at him “fucking problem?”

Sanji’s glare trails from the tip of the blade up to Zoro’s face before he growls back “You. You ruin everything.” 

With that, Sanji uses a kick to knock the blade away before he pushes forward, barely lifting off the ground as he tackles Zoro at his knees, knocking him onto his back and briefly winding him.

He probably could have taken the hit, but he’s so surprised that he doesn’t even realise what the cook is doing until he feels two sharp knees digging into the inside of his elbows. His arms are pinned, stretched outwards with his swords as far from his opponent as possible, as Sanji sits heavily on his chest.

Zoro’s so startled by the approach that he goes to swing his head, to whip the sword in his mouth at the hot head, but before he can, Sanji has taken the sword away. For a moment, Zoro thinks he’ll join Sanji in feeling murderous, but some of his anger is quenched when he realises the cook doesn’t toss the blade away, but instead places it carefully above Zoro’s head, just out of reach of his mouth. 

“You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut at the market, could you?” Sanji pants, pushing as much weight into his knees so he can, watching Zoro flinch as they push through muscle and pinch at nerves.

“What are you talking about, shit-cook?” Zoro tries to move his arms, he knows he’s strong enough to lift Sanji’s scrawny legs off him, but for some reason, nothing happens.

“You just had to butt in about booze right as I was getting somewhere with that beautiful blonde-haired beauty. You had to open your stupid mouth and ruin it.” 

Sanji thinks back to the lady, all curves and soft lines and a small timid smile. The brief laugh she paid him for a weak joke was enough to make Sanji float. He’s sure he could have charmed an evening with her while they were stuck on this island, but big mean and green had to ruin it all, as usual.

“That’s what this is about? You striking out with yet another clueless chick?” Zoro continues to struggle, becoming perplexed that his strength seemed to have left him.

“Don’t call women demeaning shit like that.” Sanji snarls, only refraining from hitting the green bafoon when he notices the other looking worried at his arms twitching uselessly beneath Sanji’s hold.

“It’s not going to work, Mosshead. I’m leaning on a weak point in your arms.” 

Zoro’s attention turns back to Sanji, his brows furrowed in thought as though he wasn’t sure to believe the blonde or not.

“Apologise, and I’ll move.” Sanji bargains, his temper subsiding as a feeling of victory settles in his chest. 

“Eat shit.” 

Sanji grins at the discomfort on Zoro’s face, the sweat breaking out across his forehead as he struggles to get himself back in a position of power. The blonde decides to lean his upper body back, a show of how long he is willing to wait for Zoro to cave. His hands fall lazily behind him as he goes to rest one of them on Zoro’s stomach. 

The movement surprises the swordsman, the hand going unnoticed until he felt gentle fingertips dragging across his ribs, pushing at the taut skin. The lack of sight, mixed with an unusual place for Sanji to touch him is enough to cause Zoro to flinch, to let the smallest involuntary gasp through his lips as his breath hitches and his eyes widen in genuine surprise. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. 

Maybe he didn’t notice?

“Oho, what was that Marimo?” Sanji, having literally felt the hitch in breath beneath him, stares curiously at his hand, then looks back at Zoro’s face, the faintest dusting of a blush growing on his cheeks as he suddenly refuses to meet Sanji’s face.

The cook might have just taken the reaction as having hit a bruise, but the discomfort on Zoro’s face makes Sanji curious. So, he does it again.

This time his fingers brush relentlessly over the spot, the touch getting softer as he realises it elicits more of a reaction from the man beneath him. Sanji can’t help the grin that spreads out across his face as the pieces start to click together.

“Oi, Marimo.” Zoro glares a hole through Sanji as he meet’s his gaze, his blood boiling at the sight of the smug expression on the assholes face. “I didn’t know moss could be ticklish.”

Zoro tries to keep his face neutral as he opens his mouth to deny it, to tell Sanji he’s an idiot and to get the fuck off him before he skewers him, but before he can…Sanji squeezes his hip bone, his long fingers coiling into the exposed hollow of his hip.

He thought with all his hard work and training over the years that he could have held back his reaction, hardened his mind until he felt nothing. It doesn’t work. Not with Sanji’s weight holding him down, his arms and swords useless for once, his rival’s touch soft against his skin. This was new, this was terrifying, and this was something Zoro had never prepared for.

He lets out a bark of laughter, his face whipping to the side in embarrassment and panic as he tries to will the flush climbing up his neck away. 

Sanji forgets to be angry, forgets he was ever upset, forgets completely about the blonde that started this whole scene. He can feel the echo of the laugh through Zoro’s chest, can feel the panicked breaths that follow against his thighs. His eyes are locked on Zoro’s watery smile, not used to seeing such a shy grin on the swordman’s face. 

He squeezes again, Zoro’s eyes twisting shut as though not being able to see what was happening would be enough to make it go away. He loosens his grip slightly, scratching the area instead, his nails bluntly dragging across the cotton of Zoro’s shirt as a groan from his mouth turns to soft giggles.

Sanji is pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breath. It’s like he’s afraid to. That he’ll make too much noise and miss a single sound coming from Zoro’s lips.

“Didn’t think a brute like you could giggle.” Sanji teases eventually, pausing his assault long enough to see if Zoro will answer him, if he is capable of speech.

Zoro is pretty sure he’s going to die. His chest is tight after less than a minute of this. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, his hip feels like it’s been electrocuted and now Sanji’s words are burning him. He can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his limbs will surely snap at any moment. When it does, it’s likely he’ll melt into the wood of the floor.

“What, no quip back?” Sanji is laughing now, joyfully too, not his usual cruel cackle that he uses to taunt Zoro mid-fight. 

“Shu-huh-ut up!” Zoro gasps, trying to regain his composure. 

He can’t remember the last time someone had pinned him like this, and certainly can’t remember a time when someone ever tickled him like this. He hadn’t even considered he was ticklish, not since he’d grown up.

“Aw Marimo, that’s not very nice.” Sanji’s eyes are practically shining as he leans back with both hands now on Zoro’s stomach, all ten fingers curling into the soft dip just below Zoro’s abs. 

Zoro’s eye’s practically bug out of his head at the sensation. Any thought of shutting down his nervous system disappears as he lets out a stream of loud laughter, his legs curling and kicking out behind Sanji, his back arching off the ground, nearly hard enough to push Sanji off him. But the blonde was able to stay on top, his laughter joining Zoro’s.

“Oh, mosshead. I think I’ve found a way to indefinitely win our little fights now. Let’s hope no one outside the crew finds out about this, eh?”

Sanji’s words are too much, too condescending, and sweet and frustrating. 

“I-Ihh- I’m go-ahah-gonna cut yo-oho-you’re fucking tongue ou-ouaha-out.” Zoro warns, deadly serious for once. His threat sounding ridiculous though as his voice cracks at the end, his laughter hitting a shriek as Sanji traces a spot just above his pant’s line. 

Sanji hums, unimpressed. His hands disappear from Zoro’s stomach and for some reason that’s worse. Zoro’s gaze snaps from the door to the kitchen back to Sanji as he desperately tries to anticipate whatever the fuck the cook is going to do next. 

He’s too slow though because he doesn’t feel the hands shoving under his exposed armpit’s until it’s too late. Not being able to drag his elbows into his sides is torture and his shrieking continues as his nerves tingle from his chest all the way to his fingertips.

“I don’t think the world’s greatest swordsman is the only title you’ll ever earn; clearly most ticklish swordsman is already yours.”

It’s the worst comment so far. Mainly because the cook has just fucking admitted he think’s Zoro can achieve his dream. The compliment is weird and warm enough to have butterflies fluttering in his gut while his lungs seize in his chest. His face is beetroot red at this point as Zoro starts to feel like he’ll never escape.

But just as he thinks this, Zoro registers his legs, which have been twisting and convulsing this whole time…Sanji is settled on his chest. Zoro’s legs are completely free. He mightn’t have trained his kicks like the cook, but he can still swing them as well as any other competent fighter.

As Sanji opens his mouth to tease him further, Zoro moves. He brings his knees up with as much force as he can in his position, and they hit Sanji square in his lower back. He knocks the cook forward just enough that one of his knee’s shifts from where they were pinching the nerve in Zoro’s arm and in a blink of an eye he goes from a laughing mess to grappling Sanji’s waist, rolling the pair over until Zoro finds himself nestled in between the blonde’s legs, his hips pining the other’s down.

Sanji is blinking owlishly up at the ceiling, disorientated, and confused at how he ended up in this position. 

Zoro wastes no time in hopping up and falling back down on the other’s thighs, preventing any kicks or twists that might come his way. He gives Sanji a second, relishing in the horrified expression on his rivals faces before he digs both his large hands into every inch of skin he could on the blonde’s stomach and is rewarded by a loud wheeze followed by a stream of curses and laughter as Sanji loses it beneath him. His whole being wiggling and convulsing and suddenly Zoro doesn’t feel as embarrassed or weak.

He was going to kill the blonde, tickle him to an inch of his final breath and make him promise to never try this shit again, to beg and cry for Zoro to stop...

But the heated feeling dies in his mind as soon as he thinks it, because Sanji laughs like it means nothing. Like he doesn’t care that he’s being lit on fire by Zoro’s touch. He meets Zoro’s eye like they’re sharing a joke over a drink, like they’ve just surprised yet another unsuspecting crew, he looks at Zoro as if they’re friends…and it kills Zoro. Destroys him in a way he’s not expecting.

So, he stops, his fingers stilling when Sanji’s eyes gather tears and his face is as red as Zoro’s own.

He doesn’t tease him, doesn’t trust himself to say a single word when his mouth has dried, when it feels like cotton in sitting in the centre of his tongue. 

“Tr-ucahaha-truce. Plea-ahah-se Marimo.” 

Zoro stares at him until Sanji squirms uncomfortably at the silence. He watches the emotions swirling in Zoro’s eyes, his face it’s usual mask of secrecy. The idiot looks lost, like he’s stuck on something particularly complex.

Sanji hasn’t a clue what could be happening in the green idiot’s brain, so he doesn’t push him. Not when he’s still menacingly looming over him, ready to pounce. 

Sanji handles him the way he always does when he needs Zoro to comply without needing him to actually agree with him.

“I’ll let you drink a bottle of the good booze if you let me up?”

Zoro grins then, the tension washing away as Sanji offer him something familiar, something safe. 

He grunts as he stands, surprising them both when he offers Sanji a hand up. 

He takes the hand, letting Zoro pull him to his feet, surprised when the other pulls him close, his breath tickling Sanji’s ear as he hisses “You tell anyone about this, and not even the world’s best sake will save you.”

Zoro pulls back then to glare as threateningly as he can at the cook. Sanji looks stricken, maybe a bit intimidated for a second before he bursts into laughter. Zoro pouts at the response, forgetting none of his intimating tricks work on the pervert.

Sanji gooses his side as he dances out of Zoro’s reach and towards the drinks stash, laughing as he replies over his shoulder. 

“Next time I won’t forget to pin you properly, moss for brains.”

The threat sounds more like a promise, like Sanji is already planning his next attack. It makes Zoro uncomfortable, afraid, and slightly excited. The same mesh of emotions he always gets from fighting with Sanji.

Maybe, this would be another form of release for them. Another way to pass the time on the ship and let off some steam.

He tries not to dwell on the fact that a tickle fight was far less acceptable for a pair of terrifying warriors than genuine bruise inducing sparring.

Who could judge them out at sea? Who would learn of what they did on the grand line behind a closed kitchen door.

Zoro wanted to hear that laughter again, wanted to see that grin across the cook’s face…and maybe, he admits quietly in his brain as he takes the first gulp of his drink, he was looking forward to having the cook tease him like that again.

To beat him with a soft touch, rather than a short blunt one.

Zoro needed to drink the entire bottle placed in front of him before he lets his thoughts continue, before he reaches a conclusion, he’s been avoiding for months now.

He holds out his empty cup and receives a scoff in return as Sanji fills it again, the two of them clinking their next glasses together in a silent ‘cheers’.

They’ll figure it out, whatever this is.

They’re nakama after all. 

[anonymous-dentist]

REBLOGS WELCOME! :D

-

So therapy is going well.

-

“And you know what? You know what else, Mariana?”

“Yes? What?”

Slime leans closer, a sneer on his face as he says: “Your sex playlist sucks.”

And that is too far. Too far. 

Mariana tackles him out of his chair with an offended roar, ignoring Roier’s cries from the other side of the desk. 

“Gentleman, please!” Roier protests. “Not in the office, please! Take it outside!”

Slime’s face screws up in anger. He grabs Mariana’s shoulders, nails digging in through the spandex of Mariana’s suit. 

“Is that what you want?” he asks, voice low. He meets Mariana’s eyes and brings his head closer; almost reflexively, Mariana does the same until their noses are brushing. 

“Is that what you want?” Slime repeats, his breath ghosting over Mariana’s lips. “Do you want to take it outside, Mariana?”

“Oh my God,” Roier says. 

“No,” Mariana replies. “I want you to kiss me.”

And he does.

-

Really, therapy is going well. Better than Mariana had expected, what with the single least experienced person on the island acting as his therapist. Because Roier of all people was obviously the best choice, ignore his murderous grudge against his ex… whatever, and his fun new hobby of putting children in pits to fight to the death. The guy whose last relationship ended in literal murder is obviously the best person to be the island’s court-mandated couples’ counselor. 

But, well, it’s working, surprisingly enough. Slime hasn’t wished death upon Mariana in days, and Mariana is almost allowed to tuck their daughter into bed. And Flippa? She’s happier than ever (though, really, that isn’t saying much.)

-

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Mariana? I’m meditating. Just like the doctor ordered.”

The chainsaw in Slime’s lap disagrees with that statement. As does the blood spattered across his face. And the dying BadBoyHalo groaning on the floor in front of him.

Bad rolls onto his back and looks up at Mariana pleadingly. He mouths, ‘help me’.

Flippa stands over him holding a gun three times too big for her tiny little egg hands. She waves it cheerfully in greeting as she notices Mariana in the doorway.

Mariana rolls his eyes and groans, throwing his arms into the air. “Chinga su madre, man, what did I tell you? Stop killing people on the rug! Do you know how hard it is to clean it?”

Bad coughs blood onto said rug indignantly. Bastard.

“Well, maybe people shouldn’t try and kill our daughter on the rug,” Slime calmly responds. He speaks slowly, and Mariana is thankful for it. His translator can only work so fast, and most of his husband’s murderous rampages go by too quickly for the translator to pick up. It’s a pain.

“Oh, is that what happened?” Mariana asks. 

Slowly, he walks towards Bad, whose eyes are slowly draining of life. He’s got maybe ten more seconds left before he’s forced to respawn. Mariana could save him right now. 

He pulls out his sword instead. 

Juanaflippa backs up, already covered in too much blood for her tastes. 

“He-” Mariana points at Slime. “-is the only person allowed to kill eggs. Mamahuevo, fuck you.”

As soon as Bad is dead, Slime jumps to his feet and pulls Mariana into a bruising kiss, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and holding him tight. The chainsaw digs into Mariana’s back slightly, but it’s hard to pay attention to that when his husband is right there. 

“You are so hot when you’re killing people,” Slime murmurs. 

And Mariana doesn’t quite understand what he said, his translator out of sight, but he knows when he’s being sweet talked well enough. 

“Me encantas,” Mariana says. “Now…” (What are the words?) “...put the chainsaw down and take me to bed.”

And he does.

-

Once, there was a time when Mariana couldn’t remember why he married Slime. Well. He still doesn’t know why he married Slime, or when. It just sort of happened one day, and maybe they should have gotten divorced long ago for Flippa’s sake. But, hey, they got married before they even knew each other. They spent most of their marriage apart. Now that they’re being forced together, Mariana can definitely see the appeal of being married to Slime. He’s funny, and he’s smart, and he’s very attractive. Who cares if he’s literally made out of slime? That just makes him special. 

A human, a slime, and an egg. What a family. 

-

Juanaflippa is still learning how to write. Her English is messy, but her Spanish is messier. Mariana tries not to think that it’s his fault for not being there for her, but he also knows that it is kind of his fault. He knows that, so Slime doesn’t need to keep rubbing it in like the asshole he is. 

“Oh, wow, Flippa! That’s great!” Slime coos upon being presented with Flippa’s most recent attempt at signmaking. Mariana can’t really understand what’s written, but he thinks that he knows one or two words: ‘mom’ and ‘dad’. 

Flippa hops up and down excitedly and quickly scrambles back up to her room to get another sign to work on. 

Mariana idly watches her go, sprawled out across Slime’s couch with his translator in his hand ticking away. One annoying thing about his husband is how fast he talks, it’s impossible to keep up. Literally impossible. Luckily, Mariana’s been working on his English when he’s been alone, so he can at least try to figure out what’s going on without having his translator out all of the time. 

Slime sighs and slumps onto the couch by Mariana’s feet. Without hesitation, Mariana kicks his legs up onto Slime’s lap; Slime doesn’t move them. 

“She’s learning so fast…” Slime says. 

Mariana nods. “Yes, you are a good teacher.”

“Yeah, I sure am.”

The accusation is left unsaid, but Mariana hears it, anyway. 

Lightly, he kicks Slime in the chest. “Hey, fuck you. I’ve been trying.”

“I’m sure you have,” Slime responds, and the condescension is dripping so thickly from his voice that it’s in a puddle on the floor. Or maybe that’s just Slime himself. 

Mariana kicks him again. He doesn’t say anything, though, because maybe therapy has been working. A week ago, they would have been yelling by now. Today, though? He’s happy enough to stew in his discontent. 

He likes the quiet, anyway. Slime is a lot prettier when he isn’t screaming his head off. Very nice to look at. Muy guapo. He pretends that Slime isn’t looking back if only because acknowledging it would make him blush, and he would like to keep his dignity, thank you very much. 

Eventually, Juanaflippa comes back downstairs with a new sign. 

‘Te quiero, papá,’ is written on it in shaky chicken-scratch letters, and it’s enough to almost make Mariana cry. Almost. 

He slips off of the couch and pulls Flippa into a hug. “Aww, Flippa, yo también te quiero.”

She wiggles in place happily. The wiggling becomes more enthusiastic when Slime goops his way into the hug as well, tucking his chin into the crook of Mariana’s neck. 

Slime says, “Te amo, Juanaflippa.” And, well, it’s not quite right, but he’s got the spirit. 

Mariana looks up at him with a slight pout. “What the fuck? Why don’t you say that to me?”

Slime rolls his eyes. “Fine, I guess I can say it, I guess.”

And he does.

-

And then there’s the sex. But that was fine before, to be honest. The only thing that has improved about it is their playlist. 

-

Slime’s new house has a bedroom with enough space for the both of them, and it’s almost nice enough to make Mariana consider partially moving in. Almost. 

Their beds are on opposite sides of the room because, frankly, they aren’t ready to properly share a bed yet. But the floors are bare so as to make it easier to push their beds together when wanted. 

Mariana wants. 

He pokes his head out into the living room. Slime is right where he left him, facedown on the rug after a long day of renovating. Juanaflippa is asleep upstairs, nobody else is awake on the server to interrupt or eavesdrop, it’s the perfect opportunity. 

“Hey, Slime,” Mariana says, and that’s enough to get his husband to roll onto his back with a groan. 

“What are you still doing here?” Slime yawns. He covers his mouth halfheartedly, stretching his legs out sleepily. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did,” Mariana confirms. “You have a bed. Come on, get into it with me.”

And usually that’s enough to get Slime up and moving, but he doesn’t so much as look at him. No, his eyes slip shut, and he lets his arms fall across his body like a mummy’s. 

Oh. He’s tired. 

“Estoy cansado,” Slime sighs. “Lo siento, mi novia. No sexo tonight.”

Mariana can’t help but be disappointed. The sex is one of his favorite things about their relationship. It’s the one thing that he and Slime could agree on before the court case, the one single bit of solidarity in their relationship. 

But… it is late, and maybe Mariana is a bit tired as well. 

So he goes out of the bedroom to pick Slime up, only buckling a little under his weight. (For a sentient pile of goo, he’s fucking heavy.)

Slime’s eyes flutter open, and his face wrinkles in confusion as he’s moved. He looks up at Mariana blearily, unsure as to what he’s doing. Honestly, Mariana doesn’t know what he’s doing, either. This is weird. 

“Your back is going to hurt if you sleep on the floor,” is Mariana’s excuse even though he knows fully well that Slime doesn’t have a spine. 

“Oh, cool, alright,” Slime says. If he snuggles into Mariana’s chest a little, neither acknowledges it. “Gracias.”

“De nada.”

He drops Slime into his bed and hesitates. What now? Does he… tuck him in? He’s a grown man, he can tuck himself in. 

Mariana turns to… go, he guesses, to go back to his own house, but he’s stopped by a goopy hand wrapping itself around his wrist and refusing to let go no matter how hard he tries to pull away. 

“Slime, come on, let go,” Mariana groans. “Maybe I want to go to bed too, huh?”

“Then get in here,” Slime says, and that’s all the warning Mariana gets before being yanked down with a yelp onto the bed. 

Slime hums, and then he’s out like a light, snork mimimi, and all. Mariana stares at him for a good moment, and then he sighs and takes his glasses off. He takes Slime’s glasses off as well, and, after placing them both onto the bedside table right next to each other, he lets himself relax. There isn’t quite enough room for the both of them, but he thinks it can make it work. 

And he does. 

-

So, yes, therapy has been working. It’s been working very well. 

(Now, if only someone could get the therapist a therapist. Mariana is starting to get sick of hearing about Roier’s relationship problems at what are supposed to be his therapy sessions. At this rate, Mariana is going to kill Spreen himself if only to stop the complaining.)

[reallyromealone]

SOULMATES 6

Warnings

Male reader, mpreg, omegaverse, angst, fluff

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Tanjiro helped (name) change their little fabric diapers "how can such little bodies produce so much poop..." (Name) mumbled to the beta who laughed "they are little poop machines, my siblings weren't much better" Tanjiro said as nezuko watched curiously "they're going to be strong, I can tell" Tanjiro said sweetly to the Omega "you think?" (Name) asked softly and both Tanjiro and Nezuko nodded.

The siblings felt pity for the omega, they knew (name) wanted to find love with rengoku but...they also knew the Alpha never said how he felt to poor (name) who had no option but to give up on his feelings.

And then to be soulmates with his natural and literal enemy?

It was just cruel.

"How do you deal with this (name)?" Tanjiro asked genuinely as he looked at the other "..." (Name) was quiet as he gently traced his pups cheeks, noting how much they bare resemblance to their father "I want to scream and cry but... I'm also so happy? I can't describe it" (name) said genuinely "my entire life was changed and I had zero options but to adapt or die, I haven't had a second to process... If i wasn't trying not to die I was busy handling other things..." (Name) said genuinely "I know I'm asking for something unfair and impossible, it's unfair to ask if anyone but... I just I want my pups to grow up with both sides, I don't want to deny them that"

Tanjiro hugged (name) gently and Nezuko placed her hand on the omegas knee, the siblings comforting their friend, knowing (name) just wanted to be happy.

Rengoku was deeply uncomfortable as he stood beside Kokushibo, the demon silent as they stood guard in front of the only entrance of the home, both men having their hands on their swords in case anything were to happen.

He heard the crying and the grip on his blade tightned, it took everything for him to not leave his post and comfort the Omega that was almost his.

The pups that should have been his.

"Your self deprecation will not change events, so cease" Kokushibos words were blunt and cold to the Slayer, annoyed by his pharamones that were leaking everywhere.

"You wouldn't understand" Rengoku spat at the demon who rolled.his eyes "nor do I care, control your pharamones"

"I loved him but I missed my opportunity" rengoku said and Kokushibo tried so hard not to kill him right then and there "I knew he loved me and I never said anything! I suck!"

"You were a coward" kokushibo said bluntly "now he is someone else's Omega, you must move on"

"I-I know..." Rengoku couldnt be the one (name) could be with but... He will be the one that can help (name).

(Name) did let Muzan see his pups, he was angry not a monster, watching the demon interact with the tiny bundles of joy who immediately recognized their dad though (child A) kept grabbing at his hair.

"They're so weak..." Muzan fondly and (name) huffed "they're babies, if course they're weak" (name) said softly as he scented one of the pups though Muzan could feel the tension from the omega.

Sadly Muzan was far to prideful to give into his omegas demands.

Muzan left (name) scented items that the Omega begrudgingly accepted and added to his nest, the pups enjoying the scent of their papa.

(Name) got used to the demons and slayer's as a routine, finding company with Doma again as the demon visited his "favorite human" as he liked to say, ignoring how delicious the Omega smelt.

"He's really serious about this" Tengen mumbled as Giyu nodded "he wants his children to have a functional childhood, he's a good Dam"

"He's asking us to be friends with demons!"

"He's not asking you to be friends, he's asking all of us not to kill each other for his pups wellbeing"

"I would rather die than befriend those monsters"

Shinobu remembers her sister talking fondly of wanting demons and humans to live in harmony, she held her beliefs too deep down.

Then she met Doma.

Then she was reminded about how much she hated demons.

But (name)...

He reminded her so much of her beloved sister Kanae, the Omega sharing the same desire for demons and humans to co exist.

A small part of her rooted for his dreams, wanting the fighting... The suffering... For it all to stop.

(Name) remembered when he was little, tengen would sneak him little treats when their father would shame him for not being a good Omega, the boy just wanting to hang out with his brothers...

"I will never treat you how my father treated my siblings and I, whatever you want to do... I will support" (name) said softly to the sleeping pups who clung to each other so helplessly "who knows what's to come in the future but I know you both will thrive..."

A knock came at the door, Rengoku opening it at the soft 'enter' with food for the Omega as Kokushibo kept guard, once the next team arrived they were off duty.

(Name) perked up at the other, a slightly sad smile on his face as he offered the Alpha to sit "come... Meet my pups" (name)s words kind as Rengoku looked heartbroken at the pups, the tiny bundles of innocence that should have been his...

It was almost painful as he watched the Omega soothe and scent the pups.

God, if he was just (name)s soulmate... Everything would be better.

(Name) would be happy, provided for and never a worry in his mind.

He could see his brother and friends whenever he wanted, their pups would thrive.

Yet here he was, useless.

He tried to move on but seeing him like this... It killed him.

"(Child A) kind of looks like you when you accidentally spilt Shinobus tea" (name) commented as the pup yawned and it did look like he was screaming in fear "I was not that scared!" Rengoku laughed as the pup snuggled back in the nest "you hid from her for a week" (name) teased and the blond pouted playfully "they're cute kids" he comments genuinely and (name) beams "they're my world!"

The two chatted like the old friends they were as (name) ate happily.

(Name) needed Muzan.

Bad.

The Omega whined when he woke up and he wasn't there holding him or reading but (name) did this to himself.

He's the one who booted his alpha out.

(Name) found himself crying as his pups slept, not hearing Muzan enter with his breakfast "why are you crying?" The demon asked, crouching before the Omega and setting the food to the side "alpha..." (Name) mumbled, feeling just overwhelmed as the pups kept him up all night and day, needing to be fed more due to them being half demon.

"Alphas here now" Muzan said kissing his mate gently, pulling him close and scenting him and Muzan could feel the exhaustion radiate off him in heavy waves "my omegas putting to much on himself" Muzan said almost playfully, a tone (name)s never heard "I just...want everyone to get along... It's all I ask"

"How about you see them once a month... Do whatever you humans do and then return back with me to the infinity castle" Muzan asked as if he didn't have plans to remove the problem from the equation, he knew the slayer's were planning something as well.

They were just waiting.

"That place is far to dangerous for pups!" (Name) grumbled out as he played with his mates sleeve "I'm building a new home for us, so you can play with our pups... The castle will be temporary besides the pups can't even hold their heads up"

"..." (Name) was quiet as he wiped the tears from his eyes "do you promise to keep your word?"

"If course beloved" until his plan goes as he wants of course.

You see, humans are predictable and he's waiting till one of them slips up so it seems they attacked the demons against (name)s wishes.

And he just had to wait.

Both parties gathered as (name) spoke of the compromise, Muzan playing supportive husband and watching them seethe.

It was phenomenal.

The slayer's obviously argued but (name) chirped "Muzan wouldn't lie!" The Alpha wouldn't lie per day but he did keep secrets and manipulate but his sweet Omega didn't need to know that.

He just needed to be his perfect little mate and one day his little Emperor consort to Muzans emperor.

Muzan had a nursery set up when they returned to the infinity castle, the pups set in and the Alpha having his mate relax on their bed, kissing (name)s swollen ankle as he rubbed his feet.

He was doing anything to get (name) to be happy with him, the two seperate for far to long and the poor Omega needed to be reminded he only needed Muzan.

He doted completely on (name) and the pups, making it well aware his priorities were them so when he went to see his family, the hostility would make (name) mad.

And come to Muzan for comfort.

All he had to do was wait.

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

Can you do haganezuka x black hashira smut hcs?

Of course 😍🙈🩷

Warnings: black fem!reader, hashira reader, smut, mention of insecurities

Haganezuka didn't understand why you'd compare yourself to a lighter skinned woman when he first went down on you. "My pussy isn't pink... are you sure you want to go down on me?" You'd ask shyly "yeah? What kind of stupid question is that" he said and go down on you, ignore anymore insecurities you might say next. "You're beautiful. I'm going to make sure you know that when I fuck you"

Haganezuka never pulls your hair when he takes you from behind. He knows how much time you spend to take care of your hair, whether it's out naturally or in braids, and would never mess it up. When he dose take you from behind he uses his large hands to spread your cheeks open and watches how you take him "everytime my cock gose in and out you keep making a mess"

Haganezuka likes to slide his thumb in your hole when he takes you from behind. He'll tell you how it twitches and how it needs to be filled even if it's just his thumb. "What do you say y/n, can I fuck you here? Or do you think I should fuck both your holes to give each one a turn with being stuffed.

Haganezuka proves you wrong when you told him the hickeys he'll leave won't show on your skin, but he makes it show. He makes it show so much that the hickeys will stay on you for days. You're glad your uniform covered you from head to toe. That way, you could hide them easily.

Haganezuka scared off all the other swords' smiths to become your personal swords maker. He comes very possessive with you, and if anyone is going to satisfy you or help you with anything, it's him.

Haganezuka told you about how he fantasizes about fucking you in his work shop and you agreed to do it with him whenever you stopped by. "Am i fucking you dumb already?" He said holding you up againts the wall and fucking you rough "keep it down, don't want anyone to hear you right?" He chuckles.

Haganezuka likes to fuck you while you're wearing your bonnet. It's a strange habit you might think but he just likes it. He'll often fuck you sideways on the bed when he's in the mood and likes to have more access to your neck, kissing and sucking in it.

Haganezuka punishes you when you break or chip your sword, but your punishments are in bed. He'll bend you over on his lap with your pants down and spank you, making you count for each chipped part that's on your sword. "Louder! This is your punishment for fucking up my sword. Or do you do this on purpose so I can punish you?" he'll say and slide his fingers between your wet folds to finger fuck you.

[ilycosy]

— a heavy burden ୨୧ evan's story

aﾉn — evan n reader lore !!! this kinda adds nothing to noted but i had fun writing it and it was definitely fun to flesh out evan (who will def reappear in different works bc i love him) so hope u guys enjoy !!

warning ; this has themes of neglect & is kinda angsty

evan couldn't remember a time when he wasn't seen as a complete and utter nuisance to be around, diagnosed with many things, and suspected for too many to count. he could barely read or write even though he was fastly approaching seven— not to mention the awful sleeping habits.

his mother hid it from him as much as she could, wanting to ignore all the signs of her son (or, daughter at the time) acting like this. she spent most of her time knitting random things, unable to sleep for almost days on end.

meeting you was a blessing to him, really. stumbling on his shoelaces, unable to tie them due to the inability to focus on something without becoming anxious or tired, almost right onto you. a pretty girl with even prettier hair, he felt embarrassed.

"do you need help with that?" you had asked him before he could sprint away in embarrassment, pointing to his raggedy shoes. shoes that are too small and should've been retired ages ago, not that he knew that. he faintly remembers whispering a yes ma'am (completely informal, he would never do this now) and looking away nervously.

you tying his shoes was the best thing that happened to him. he never told you that, though. he'd rather drop dead and be cursed by the gods than verbalize his feelings for you, much rather sneaking about and handling things for you more subtly.

if anybody asked him why he was so attached to you, he'd probably tell them the story of his ninth birthday. you were only eleven, yet you acted so much better than him, poised and perfect, never afraid of anything. not even the monsters that he saw, the ones you promised that you saw too.

he thought you were lying until another joined your group, a wiry girl that had crutches. he never judged her, though. you were always kind— he wanted to be kind too.

this girl was odd. to say the least. she constantly talked of greek mythology, speaking oddly about certain monsters that evan quickly realized he could see. you never showed fear, though, always reassuring him that it'll be okay or that the girl didn't know.

well, it turns out she did know! he promised that he would never say 'i told you so' but sometimes he still thinks about it.

his ninth birthday was spent running, barely having time to pack or mourn his mother— even if she had forgotten his birthday - or maybe just ignored it again.

hiding in an abandoned building, in the gross muggy air with other homeless people (he wasn't one to judge, but he couldn't help but think that everything was contaminated with a fluid). he was covered in dirt, sweat, and even some blood.

you guys had found out that the girl was a satyr, your 'protector'. evan thought it was stupid, she didn't give him the support she said that she was there for, only apparently dragging him to this stupid mythical camp where he'd be safe.

sitting on some rotten wood, he was convinced that he was going to die. only nine, barely nine.

until your hand brushed his, interlacing your small hand with his even smaller one. your thumb rubbed his hand as he choked up, he felt embarrassed by it— but he never said anything, taking any comfort he could.

evan knew he was a burden, but he couldn't help but selfishly wish that he was your lightest burden.

evan can remember that day like it was yesterday, being twelve now and it being his third year at camp. he wasn't really good at anything. his sword fighting was mediocre at best, he sucked at metal working, and he felt lackluster in the planning department.

he liked planning, though, writing down any idea that he has in a notebook you had made him. he always kept it near him, never wanting people to see this part of him— the part only you knew about.

you were claimed almost immediately, going off into aphrodite's cabin. a goddess of love, beauty, and warfare, it was perfect for you. he felt blinded by your beauty whenever he saw you, never mentioning that, though. the only time he ever felt love was when he was with you, being cradled in your arms while he wept about another birthday. and you were a monster in the battlefield.

aphrodite went against hermes almost constantly. nobody expected aphrodite kids to be good, so they were mainly left up for whoever was lacking members. but he prayed to whoever his father was that you would be on his team, even when it wasn't a serious capture the flag game.

he spent three years being unclaimed, sitting in a dingy hermes bunkbed surrounded by kids who he knew didn't care about him. he ignored everyone, favoring sleep. he remembers a boy with bleached hair and deep brown eyes telling him that he should really try a redbull, but he ignored him for his blankets.

it was the only thing he felt good at. he felt relieved of being a burden to everyone whenever he was asleep, maybe that's why it made sense for him to be claimed by hypnos.

hypnos, god of sleep. of fucking course. he didn't know what to expect, but he didn't know what to think about this. it was like everyone was laughing in his face, of course he's the son of the sleep god!

red hot heat spread across his face when he was claimed, everyone snickering like they already knew or telling him that it's 'not that bad' and 'he's lucky that nobody expects anything from him now', yeah real lucky.

he'd lay curled up in bed, wishing that it was a dream— that it was some sick joke that he'd get claimed in front of everybody, be something for everyone to gawk and giggle at. son of the sleep god, what a joke.

he almost screamed when he felt a jab in his spine, your hand instantly covering his mouth. "ev," you whispered to him, "come with me."

he could never deny you, really. he followed you without hesitation, but that doesn't mean you didn't get lots of complaining.

he was greeted with cookies, his favorite, in the shape of little pillows with marshmallows inside to fluff them up. he was so in shock that he ignored your corny marshmallow pun, inside just throwing his arms around you.

for a second, he felt less like a burden and more like a simple weight you carry.

you were eighteen now, freshly graduated from high school. both you and evan only stayed in camp for summers, deciding that you wanted some type of education.

you had grown up, really, not only physically but also mentally. sometimes you felt like an old woman whenever you talked to evan, who was very much in the trenches of his teen angst (though, he's been like this since you met him).

he was leaning against you now, asleep on your shoulder after luke had forced him to practice his sword fighting with him. if you think back enough, you could imagine little luke, bleached hair, and deep eyebags staring at you from across the dining pavilion.

you shook your head to rid those thoughts, instead looking at evan. he had grown taller, standing at a great 5'7 (he insisted on it being called great). but he still felt like the same eight-year old you tied shoes for, you could still feel the weight of his small head against your chest when you were on the run.

his weight was comforting, and it let you know that you were both alive— not yet meeting the demigod fate that many talked about, either in fear or with that glory hungry look.

you couldn't help but wonder if he knew just how special he was. you knew that he'd scoff and lean away if you told him, still deeply insecure about his place in the world, he'd never be caught dead verbalizing his feelings.

you knew he loved you, you could tell from the way he hugged you. his hugs always bone crushing and never relenting until you pull away. the way he never hesitates with believing or following you, his blind trust in you felt undeserved but he'd disagree.

you knew that he loved you. he would never see you as a burden. but you still wondered if he knew that he wasn't as heavy as he thinks, he was never a burden, nor will he ever be.

[odiesdayoff]

The Winner Is...

pair: Robert Fischer x fem!reader

summary: Robert Fischer's stuck judging this year's Miss America Pageant. That doesn't mean he can't use his position to his advantage.

warnings: extremely dubious consent!! (heed the warnings!); mean/condescending Robert Fischer; anal; blowjobs; deepthroating; unprotected sex; a bit of misogyny; power imbalance

made reader from Georgia because I've been watching a lot of Kim of Queens. I've never written a lot of this before so I hope you can enjoy <3 this is also on Ao3 so yea... feedback always appreciated!

but also your consumption is your fault so if you don't like the content well then you should not have skipped/ignored the warnings

ALSO happy valentine's day from me :)

“In your opinion, what is a way that young women can lead successful lives in traditionally male-dominated professions?” Miss America from 2003 spoke clearly into the microphone. She wore her winning sash across her chest and a sparkling dress. 

On her left, a former professional basketball player crossed her arms and sat back. She won the finals for her team two years in a row and now she was stuck judging brainless, but beautiful women being asked sexist questions in the veil of feminism and the uplifting of women. It didn’t matter, though. She was getting paid.

On the right of Miss America 2003, Robert Fischer leaned on the judge’s table with his hands folded. Ever since he fumbled the business deal with Eclipse Solutions, Maurice thought that the best form of punishment was to take his spot as a judge in this competition. Initially, Robert thought that it wasn’t much of a punishment, but after a long week of nonstop noise and hearing these women yap about how they were going to change the world, he understood why his father made him. 

The hard-on he was sporting towards the beginning of the competition was long gone. He couldn’t bear to look at any of them anymore. Even during the swimsuit portion, for God’s sake.

Your smile never fell. The swimsuit you chose emphasized your breasts and slimmed your waist. Saying that you chose it was an exaggeration, your coach said that if you could catch the eyes of Fischer and Johnson, who your coach was convinced was a lesbian, you would have it in the bag. You still weren’t too sure about it. Knowing that your body was getting exposed to millions of people over the television was enough to raise your anxiety.

Attempting to not look like a total fool, you took a deep breath and nodded in response to her question. “Well, as someone who is in the career path of accounting, I have faced a lot of adversarial coworkers and peers. I believe that the best way that young women can gain success is to keep their self-confidence and never stop allowing themselves to learn and grow both professionally and personally. The best way to prove your doubters wrong is to excel in the path that you choose.” You weren’t exactly sure what you were saying, but you had hoped that it came across as something really intelligent to the judges. This was a question you had practiced for so long with your coach, but your mind drew a blank. 

Robert held back a laugh or at least a scoff. There’s no way he would hire you. With a face like that and the way you spoke, there’s no way that you knew how to do anything within the range of taxes or money. Probably a case of affirmative action, he was sure. Either that or you sucked the right man’s dick to get to where you were now. 

Miss America 2003 grinned. “Thank you, Miss Georgia. What a lovely way of thinking. I wish you the best of luck! Mr. Fischer, do you have a question?”

Robert’s bright blue eyes pierced into yours, despite the fair amount of distance from each other. He leaned into his mic. “Do you believe that you get respected more or less because of your appearance?”

The question felt like a double-edged sword. The last thing the general public wanted to hear was that you thought you were beautiful. It weirded people out to acknowledge your beauty, according to your coach.

“While I do think that appearance does affect the way that strangers treat others, it’s in your personality and how you treat others that matters. For me, it doesn’t matter what someone looks like for me to respect them. People that base how they treat others based on looks aren’t worth your time.” You had only hoped that the foundation you had on was holding back the sweat threatening to fall down your forehead. Robert Fischer had been asking the most condescending and borderline rude questions to everyone. It was bound to happen to you, too.

“Mm. Thank you.” He didn’t look amused.

Music began to play and the audience cheered. You smiled again at the judges' table before leaving the stage in the T walk. Once you were off stage and out of sight of both the judges and the audience, you let out a sigh and released the way that you were sucking in your stomach. You had been doing pageants like this ever since you were a little girl and now, your dream of being in this competition was real. Why did it feel so humiliating?

There was only one final day. It was the evening gown portion and the announcement of Miss America for the year. After that, you could finally relax. That is, unless you won and would immediately have to start your training for Miss Universe. Maybe you didn’t want to relax, after all. 

By the time the sun fell, most of the contestants were either spending their last night together in their hotel rooms and doing spa nights while the rest decided to go out to the clubs. You were advised not to befriend any of them by your coach to avoid feeling guilty when you eventually won and they lost. Now, you were alone at a nearby bar nursing a beer and listening to the band playing. It was a cover band of The Killers. Mr. Brightside was the current song getting butchered by the young singer.

It was freeing to be out of dresses and swimsuits and finally not showing off your body. You wore loose jeans and a top with a jacket over it. If they didn’t know you, nobody would even know that you were who you were.

You felt someone sit next to you. In a bar of several open seats, of course, they chose the one basically on top of you. They waved the bartender down and ordered a whiskey. The voice was familiar, one that was ringing in your head all day. You faced him to confirm your suspicions. Robert fucking Fischer.

The drink in your hand was what you tried to focus on. “Not very talkative off stage, huh?” It would be rude to ignore him, you knew that. 

You shrugged. “My social battery is drained.” While it was partially the truth, he was the last person you wanted to be speaking to. 

“You know,” he swirled the whiskey in his glass, “it’s between you and Miss California.” He took a generous sip of his drink as he let the information sink in. 

Excitement and guilt mixed in your stomach. “You shouldn’t say that. We shouldn’t even be speaking, Mr. Fischer.” You finished your drink and stood from the barstool. His hand wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from taking a step away.

“You wanna win, don’t you?” You sat back down, mostly involuntarily, and met his eyes with your own again. They were almost hypnotizing. “I can make that happen.”

“What do you mean?” Questions ran through your head. Was he asking for a bribe? Maybe he had some sort of bet running on you winning.

He smirked at the sight of your intrigue. “This whole competition’s about who’s the best woman, right? They’re still forgetting about the most important thing that makes a woman.” He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath against your skin. “How well they can fuck.”

You waited a moment to make sure that he was being serious, hoping that he wasn’t. The lustful look in his eyes didn’t tell you that he was joking at all. “You’re disgusting.”

“Even if I am, I’m the deciding factor on whether you go down in history as a winner or as nobody at all.” He finished his drink and stood up, fixing his tie. “Johnson likes you. Miss 2003 wants California. It’s all up to me.”

If he was lying, rejecting him wouldn’t mean much in the long run. If he wasn’t, you probably would’ve spent the rest of your life regretting taking him to bed. “Someone will see us going to the hotel together.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you one of his room keys. “Room 704. Wait ten minutes and then come up.” Without saying another word, he dropped some cash on the bar for his drink and left.

The room key felt heavy in your hand. Was winning worth anything if it wasn’t honest? He better have a decent-sized dick if you were really going to do this. 

You felt a hand tap your shoulder. “Y/n L/n? Oh my god, I’m such a big fan! I’ve been watching the whole pageant with my daughter, she loves you!” A woman shook your hand, feeling a bit too formal. The guilt grew in your stomach. How could you be a role model for little girls like this? “Can I have a picture?”

Despite your appearance, you nodded. The room key burned a hole in your pocket as you fixed your hair and took a picture with the woman. Hopefully, the dim light of the bar made you look better than you felt. 

It had already been fifteen minutes since Robert had left. You finally paid for your drink and headed for the hotel. With each step, your anxiety grew. The elevator rose to the seventh floor and you stopped in front of 704. Instead of knocking, you pulled the room key out and inserted it into the door. The light flashed green and you pushed it open. 

Robert was sitting at the edge of the bed without his clothes, stroking himself and staring at the door until you finally walked in. “You’re late.” You kept your eyes around his, trying to prevent yourself from looking any lower.

“I got caught up with something.” You took your jacket off and laid it on the office chair. Given his state of undress, you weren’t entirely sure whether or not you should strip now or wait for his instruction. He seemed like the type who was obsessed with control, especially in the bedroom. The last thing you needed was for him to get angry with you over something so trivial and ruin your chances.

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you don’t really want this, don’t you? To win?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “I want it.”

He pointed to the floor right in front of him and spread his knees further apart. You didn’t respond, knowing it was most likely for nothing, and knelt in front of him. For the way that he acted, you would assume it was because he was overcompensating. God, you were wrong.

His free hand grabbed hold of your hair and pushed your head closer to his aching cock. He leaned back. “You’re not gonna win just by looking at it.” You held back from commenting on his attitude and kissed the blushing red tip, the same color as his lips. 

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his head, allowing his precum and your saliva to mix. After hearing the slightest moan of pleasure from him, which was an exhale at best, you took a few inches of him into your mouth. His hand in your hair guided you back and forth along his length.

“That’s all you’re gonna take? I think you could do much better than that.” He taunted, not pushing you down and wanting you to do it voluntarily. “Or, I could just call down Miss California. She’d love to deepthroat me.”

You tried to relax your throat and took him deeper. He was big, much bigger than what you were used to, but you could take him. You inched deeper until your nose pressed against his lower stomach and your breathing was constricted. “Atta girl.” He smelled like the generic body soap the hotel offered with a mix of his cologne. If you could focus on breathing through your nose and sucking him off the best you could, this would be over quickly.

Hearing his heavy breathing and attempts to hide his whimpers sent shockwaves down your spine. You felt the warmth growing in between your legs the more you pleasured him. “I’m about to cum. You’ll swallow, right?”

While you couldn’t answer, you made a sound of agreement that vibrated down your throat. You’d need to do some vocal treatment and tea tonight so you still could speak tomorrow. “Fuck.” He gripped your hair tighter as he came, ropes of cum shooting down your throat.

He finally pulled out once he had fully finished. You wiped a trail of cum and spit from your lips and looked up to him. “Not bad. Though, I’ve had much better. I guess I overestimated you. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

“What does that mean?” You cocked a brow. It felt even more humiliating considering your position in front of him and the way that you could still taste the remnants of his semen coating your throat. 

“Oh, come on. You get a high-paying job straight out of college at a Big 4? You’re either a genius, which I doubt considering half of the answers you’ve given so far, or you’ve slept your way into the job. Now, strip for me.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was like he’d already convinced himself of his theories, even though they were far from the truth. Couldn’t imagine that a woman like you could make her way up the corporate ladder without the help of rich and successful parents. 

There was no use in arguing, you told yourself and took your clothes off until you were standing naked in front of him. “How exactly is the winner chosen? Aren’t there scoresheets? You’re making it sound like it’s entirely based on personal preference.”

He laughed, this time, a genuine one. “Scoresheets are arbitrary. We make those up to align with who we like the best.” He gestured to the bed behind him with his head as he stood. You followed his order and sat on the edge where he had previously been. His tongue flicked around his lips as he got a good look at you, sitting there so obediently for him. “Didn’t even touch you yet and you’re already dripping.” 

You gave him your best version of doe eyes that you could, following the instruction of your coach. She always said that facial expressions were the most important aspect of impressing someone. If you could read the person and make yourself into their ideal partner, they’d be putty in your hands. Robert seems to like to be in charge and superior, but there was an underlying hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the desire to be nurtured? 

“Can’t imagine you’ll feel that good. Not as tight as you used to be, hm?” He took hold of your knees and separated them enough for his hips to fit. He was slowly getting harder again and you felt his tip nudge your clit before gathering your arousal on himself. “How do you think we can remedy that?”

He jerked himself off using your slick, then moved the tip to settle against your ass. You immediately stiffened against him and put your hands against his chest. “No. I don’t do that.”

He groaned and took a step away from you. “Little Miss Georgia Peach is too good to take it up the ass? I’m trying to help you win, but I guess you don’t care.” He picked up your discarded clothes and tossed them to you. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the hotel phone and began to dial a number. He checked his watch. The person he was dialing answered. “Yeah, hi. Annie? I need you to do something for me. If you could-” You almost leaped towards the phone and pressed the button, ending the call. Annie was Miss California, he didn’t even need to continue the call for you to understand what he was doing.

“I’ll let you!” You were nearly out of breath, your voice hoarse.

He had to hide his smile from his plan working. “No, sweetheart. You have to ask me for it. Specifically.”

“I want you to fuck my ass, Robert.” You gulped. If this wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t be begging him like this.

“Turn around.” Once you turned, his hands were on your waist and his tip rested against your ass. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, gathering arousal, and then re-lubed his cock. You’d done this before, but it wasn’t something you necessarily enjoyed. The pain outweighed the pleasure. You just needed to breathe through it.

Your hands gripped the sheets below once his head was inside your tight hole. He slowly pushed further inside until he bottomed out. The white, hot pain was rippling through your body. You focused on inhaling and exhaling and continuing to hold tightly to the bedsheets.

He offered you some mercy, moving only after about ten seconds of being inside. After that, he fucked you as he pleased, entirely ignoring how you might’ve been feeling. You were gonna be sore tomorrow. “Fuck, this is how Miss America should feel.”

He pushed your face into the bed so that he could get a better angle and began to fuck into you roughly, rutting into you like he’d die if he didn’t cum within the next few minutes. 

Confusion surrounded you when he pulled out and you felt a sudden emptiness. Not that you were complaining. He flipped you to your back and you could barely process what he was doing before his hot cum was spurting onto your breasts and stomach.

He pushed his hair back and caught his breath, taking a step away from you. “Get dressed and leave. I’ve got some calls to make.”

You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at his confirmation of your win. Maybe it was the orgasm that had never reached climax. Either way, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow. 

~~

Pins pricked against your soft skin as they held parts of your evening gown together. Lights glare on you and your competitors on the stage. It took a lot of your might to not show the extreme soreness that you felt between your legs. You knew that if you were to touch your breasts or tighten the dress a bit more, you’d only be pushing further against the bruises Robert had given you.

The man in question sat in his chair with the other two judges, arms crossed as usual. He barely gave you a passing glance, instead, he focused on discussing things with the judges or looking at the other contestants. Maybe it was just a ploy to not make it seem like he already knew who was going to win. Certainly, that was it. 

The announcer walked on the stage from the judge’s panel with an envelope in his hand. That envelope had your name on it, you knew. He was an irrelevant game show host that you remembered watching when you were home sick from school as a child. Whatever paid the bills.

You kept your award-winning smile on while the announcer took his microphone and began to speak about how the competition was the opposite of what most people thought when it came to beauty pageants. Mostly pandering and filibustering so that the program would be able to run another round of advertisements when they played it on cable. 

“Well, I have in my hand the name of Miss America of this year. Without further ado, why don’t I open it and save these women some anxiety?” He laughed at his own joke while the audience cheered. 

Miss California stood next to you on your left and Miss Connecticut on your right. As per tradition, you held hands with them while the announcer opened the envelope of the winner. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they were going to lose.

The envelope was open. The announcer leaned into the microphone. “And the new Miss America is…Miss California!”

It was as if you were seeing things in black and white. Confetti fell from the ceiling and Miss California dropped your hand to receive her flowers and sash. You knew that crying would make you look bad, like a sore loser, but that’s the only thing that you felt like doing. You forced a smile and clapped for her.

Robert clapped for the winner, though his cold stare was on you. What you’d never forget was the smile plastered on his face. 

He had won.

[mimi-ya]

jealous-est ~ portgas d. ace x reader

3,500 words | she/her reader

summary: jealously can make a person do crazy things

masterlist | part 1 | part 2

previous part

“I wanna play, now!”

“Luffy.” You answer with a head pat, “I’m talking to Sabo right now.”

“But you’ve been talking forever!” He stomps his foot.

Sabo swipes the foam sword from Luffy’s hand, “You played with (Y/N) all day. Now it’s my turn to hang out.”

“This sucks!”

Your mouth drops in surprise, ready to chastise the boy for his language. But someone beats you to it.

“Sounds like someone needs their mouth washed out with soap!” Followed by the front door closing.

“Ace!” Luffy spins and sprints at full speed to his brother, excited for someone who might give him some attention.

Ace bends down to scoop up his brother, pinching his nose, “You seem pretty excited to get a cheek full of suds, huh?”

“No!” Luffy crosses his arms, “I just wanna play with (Y/N)!”

“(Y/N)?” Ace steps into the kitchen, smile lighting up his face, “Oh (Y/N)! What are you still doin’ here?”

“Hi love.” You slide over, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Blah!” Luffy sticks his tongue out in disgust.

“Just catching up with Sabo.” You ruffle Luffy’s hair, “But I actually have to head out.”

“No!” Luffy whines, “We didn’t get to play! You talked with Sabo so long!”

Ace nods his head, “And what about me? I didn’t get to play at all!”

You roll your eyes, just as Sabo cuts in.

“Didn’t you two get to play this morning?”

“What!” Luffy screeches, “You played without me?!”

“No!” Ace shouts, face flushed, “We were not playing! We were- well it’s not- that isn’t!”

“Hey Luffy?” You pull the attention away from your bumbling idiot, “How about we play at the park on Saturday? Maybe we can invite your friends too?”

“When is Saturday?”

“Three days.” You hold up several fingers, still trying to get Luffy in the habit of counting his numbers.

Luffy repeats your hand gesture, staring intently at his three little fingers and then looking up at you in distress, “But that’s forever!”

“It’ll be here before you know it.” You laugh and then glancing at the clock on the wall, “Alright, I really need to go. I’ll see you all later!”

“I’ll text you tomorrow!” Sabo calls over his shoulder as you head out the door.

Ace swipes a slice of the pepper Sabo is cutting on the counter, “Whattya texting her ‘bout?”

“Just babysitting stuff.” Sabo waves his hand, “And quit talking with your mouth full, you’ll teach Luffy bad habits.”

“Kid’s already a monster.” Ace mutters, “Aren’t ya, ya little gremlin?” He asks with a tickle to the boy’s stomach.

“Rawh!” Luffy squeals, trying to squirm away.

Sabo rolls his eyes when Luffy almost knocks his head against the fridge, “Alright, alright! Go roughhouse elsewhere before there’s an accident and we can’t have dinner.”

Both Ace and Luffy immediately stop their games, taking the threat of no dinner very seriously.

“Let’s get outta here Luffy. Before Sabo starves us.”

.

“Pops said if he catches you sitting on your ass one more time, you’re getting canned.” Marco knock’s Ace’s feet off the couch to make room to sit.

Ace cries in protest, “And what’s that make you doin’?”

Marco props his feet onto the small coffee table with his arms behind his head, “Taking a well-deserved break.”

“Oh whatever!” Ace rolls his eyes, returning his attention to his phone, “Pops like me better anyway.” He mutters under his breath.

“And what’s got you so distracted anyway?” Marco swipes the phone from his hands, ignoring Ace’s yelp, “Oh?” His knowing eyes cut over, “And who’s beautiful witch?”

“None of your damn business!” Ace snaps, getting his phone back.

“Hey Izou!” Marco calls over his shoulder, “Get a load of what Ace’s calls his girlfriend! He’s gonna be dumped by the end of the month!”

Izou appears from around the corner, “Dumped and fired? Rough month.”

“Shut up!” Ace snaps, but it’s missed over the laughing, “I’m going to lunch!” And he stomps out before he can be ridiculed by anyone else, even though he’s sure it’ll have spread like wildfire by the time he gets back.

“What’s the deal anyway?” Ace grumbles to himself as he walks down the street, “You are beautiful.”

Too beautiful. Why you took pity on a poor sap like him he’ll never understand, but he’ll do his damndest every single day to keep that smile on your face he loves so much.

Speaking of smile. Maybe a bouquet of flowers or sweet treat could brighten your afternoon. He knows you’ll need it after spending the afternoon with Luffy.

Probably will get shit from the guys when he walks back in with your gift. But to see you eyes light up at the random thoughtfulness of his gesture?

Worth it.

Ace shoves his hands in his pockets, whistling a simple tune as he peers into the shops along the block, waiting for something to catch his eye.

He slows at one storefront that’s displaying jewelry in the window. Shiny bracelets, dainty earrings, and pretty necklaces. His stomach flips when he glances at the rings.

Way too early to be thinking about that. Right? Ace lets out an embarrassed laugh to himself. Still doesn’t stop him from thinking about what your reaction might be.

Would you gasp in disbelief? Tackle him to the ground in excitement? Tear up in joy?

Ace really hopes to find out one day.

His brain must really be falling into this daydream, because Ace swears he can see your figure in the window, wait a minute.

With a quick spin around Ace realizes you are here. Across the street, rocking on your heels outside of some café.

A large grin splits onto Ace’s face as he raises his hand, “Hey!” You look up from your phone with a smile, “(Y/N)-” But his voice trails off when he notices it wasn’t his presence that got your attention.

Ace watches you turn towards an approaching figure with a warm smile.

And Sabo of all people strolls up to greet you, pulling you into a hug. Ace frowns a bit and Sabo nods to the café, opening the door and following inside after you.

Do you two hang out or something? You’ve never mentioned hanging out with Sabo before. And why wouldn’t either of you invite him?

Ace whips out his phone, typing out a message.

Ace: hey bby, u busy?

Your text comes in almost immediately.

Y/N: running errands, need me to pick you up anything?

Ace frowns. He supposes getting coffee with Sabo could count as errands, but why not just say that? His fingers quickly return to the buttons.

Ace: u at the store?

Y/N: yep! just grabbing a few things.

Ace can really feel the rock settle in his stomach now as he lets you know he’s well and returns his phone to his pocket.

Why are you lying?

.

The rest of the week drags on for Ace. They guys at work seems to notice the shift in his mood but chose not to comment on it.

When Ace makes it to the end of week and gets home on Friday, he’s disappointed to see you’ve already left for the day. Just another twist in his stomach.

Are you avoiding him or something?

“Ace.”

He hasn’t been able to catch you once this week.

“Aceee.”

But he’s sure you’re able to spend a few minutes with Sabo each day.

“Ace!”

A smack to the stomach pulls Ace from his bitter musings.

“Ace! Ace! Ace!” A hit punctuating each word.

“What!” Ace snaps, glaring at Luffy who’s plopped next to him on the couch and using him as a punching bag.

Luffy looks pleased to finally get his attention, “I’m bored.”

Ace rolls his eyes. Kid was always bored since nothing could hold his interest for more than thirty minutes before he needed something new to do.

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

Luffy shrugs, “I dunno.”

“I’m heading out!” Sabo passes by quickly, “I’ll be back later!”

Ace looks over his shoulder as Sabo is gathering up his keys, “Where you going?”

“Just out.” Sabo shrugs, dusting off his jacket.

Ace’s eyes narrow. His brother had an eccentric fashion sense. Most would probably categorize it as overdressed, but to the trained eye one could tell when Sabo was actually dressed to impress.

And it’s looks like he’s busting out the cravat today.

“Dinner’s in the fridge, don’t wait up!”

Ace watches the door shut behind his brother before turning back to his younger one with a grin, “Hey Luffy, I gotta an idea.”

.

“Well?” Ace spins around, “How do I look?”

“Stupid!” Luffy cackles, trying to grab for the fake hair that’s tickling Ace’s chin.

“Stupid, huh?’ Ace swats at his brother’s hand, “Guess you don’t want the one I got you then?” He reveals a second fake beard and mustache.

Luffy starts to jump up and down, screaming “Gimme!”

“Alright, alright.” Ace bends down, trying to help secure the disguise on his brother, “Now, do you remember the plan?”

Luffy bobs his head, “We’re undercover!”

“That’s right.” Ace nods, tying the band in a knot to help make up for the smallness of Luffy’s head, “Which means we can’t take our disguises off, or we’ll get caught, got it?”

“Got it!” Luffy smiles, and as if to prove the point, he tugs on the beard, letting it snap back to his face without a resounding sting.

The two had quickly run to the store, picking up the necessary items before heading over to the café Ace had spotted you and Sabo at earlier this week.

Although now that an hour has passed sitting in the back corner, Ace is wondering if his hunched had been correct or not.

“I’m bored.” Luffy whines, less excited to be there now that he’s run out of chocolate milk, “When is something cool gonna happen?”

Ace resists the urge to agree, “This is what it means to be undercover, Luf. Sometimes we have to wait.”

Luffy drops his head into his hands, nearly knocking the empty mug that once held his hot chocolate onto the floor, “I don’t wanna be undercover anymore.”

Ace peers around the café. There’s the woman who’s reading a thick book as a blue haired man sits across from her tinkering with some metal contraption. A gruff man standing behind the counter who’s been sending wary looks their way the entire time.

The calm atmosphere of the coffee shop final broken when a bell chimes as the door opens.

Ace’s eyes dart to the entrance, but he deflates when he sees it’s just some woman. Her orange hair curling around her chin as she shoots a smile over her shoulder to the man behind her.

 When said man strolls in, Ace feels his jaw drop to the ground.

“Ace!” Luffy shouts, “It’s Sab-mp!” Ace had quickly cupped a hand over his brother’s mouth, pulling him lower to the table.

“He’s two timing her!” Ace hisses, watching as Sabo and the woman places their orders at the counter.

Luffy pulls Ace’s hand down, “He’s doing math?”

“I can’t believe this!” Ace is fuming, “How could he do this to (Y/N)?”

“Ace.” Luffy pulls on Ace’s sleeve.

“I can’t believe he’s this kind of guy!” Ace’s eyes follow the pair as they grab a table closer to the door.

“But Ace”

“Who raised him!” Ace fumes.

“Ace!” Luffy pulls at the beard on Ace’s face, letting it snap back.

“Ow! What the fu-”

“Ace!” Luffy luckily cuts his brother off before he can learn a new word, “(Y/N) is right there!” He points his small finger over Ace’s shoulder.

Ace spins in his chair, “(Y/N)!” he gasps, finally seeing you’re standing behind him with a giant gaudy hat and sunglasses covering half your face, “What are you doing here!”

“Same thing as you it would seem.” You pull down your sunglasses with a wink.

“We’re spies!” Luffy jumps in his seat.

You slide into the chair next to him, “Well don’t you know the first rule of espionage is to be quiet my little pirate king?” You inform him with a pinch of his cheek.

“We’re not ‘spionaging, we’re spies.” Luffy corrects you.

A laugh bubbles in your throat, but before you can double correct Luffy Ace slams his hand on the table.

“Hello? Do you even care what’s going on over there!” He hisses, pointing to the table with a couple who had surprisingly not noticed the scene the three spies were making.

“Of course, I do! Why else do you think I’m here?”

Ace sputters, “And you’re not going to say anything?”

“Why would I?” You cock your head.

But Ace has had enough. He’s not going to let you sit here and just be played by his brother. As if you weren’t the most beautiful and kindest woman in the entire world!

“That’s it.” Ace stands to his feet, “I’m going over there.”

“What? Ace, stop!” You whisper, trying to grab his arm.

“Mine!” Luffy gleefully shouts at the same time, making a grab for the iced coffee Ace left behind and wasting no time to chug its contents.

“Luffy!” You quickly return you attention to the boy, pulling back the drink from his mouth. The last thing this kid needs is more energy.

You’re so distracted with Luffy that you can’t even watch the disaster that’s unfolding across the coffee shop.

But that doesn’t stop Ace as he stomps up to the table. The two don’t even notice him! Too lost in each other’s sickening eyes and giggles.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Ace slams his hand on the table, rattling the cups. Finally, the couple reel back in shock at the dramatic interruption.

Sabo’s eyes go wide, stuttering out, “A- Ace?! What are you doing here?!” Surprised to see his brother standing there with a glare on his face, but doubly surprised to see a cheap beard on his face that doesn’t even match his hair.

The mysterious woman cocks her head, “Your brother?”

“Me?” Ace snarls, ignoring the comment, “What are you doing here with her when (Y/N) is right over there!” Ace points over his shoulder and Sabo and the woman’s eyes land on you as you’re trying to wrangle Luffy under control.

Sabo’s mouth drops, “What does (Y/N) have to do with any of this?”

“Gee.” Ace crosses his arms with an eyeroll, “I don’t know! Maybe that you’re two timing her with this chick!”

“What?” Sabo’s mouth drops, but he can’t get another word in while Ace is on a roll.

“After everything she’s done for us? And you’re just gonna treat her like that!” Ace crosses his arms with a scoff, “And you say I set a bad example for Luffy.”

Sabo feels like he’s living in an alternate world right now, “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Sabo.” The woman interrupts gently, “Is (Y/N) someone special to you?”

“What?!” Sabo shakes his head back and forth, “No! I mean, kind of! But she’s Luffy’s babysitter!” Sabo swears he must be losing his mind right now, “And she’s dating him!” He nearly screams and wildly points at Ace.

But his explanation doesn’t do any good because now the woman just looks even more surprised than before.

“Hey!” Another voice adds to the mix, “You can’t just leave your coffee unattended around Luffy! And what the hell are you doing now!”

“(Y/N)!” Sabo squeaks.

“Ah, (Y/N).” The woman says with lips pressed into a thin line.

“(Y/N).” Luffy whines into your shoulder, “My tummy hurts.”

“(Y/N)! Can you believe what Sabo is doing here?” He gestures to the two sitting at the table.

You readjust Luffy on your hip, “Besides being annoyed by you?”

“Me?” Ace turns fully to face you with an incredulous look on his face, “I’m the one defending you honor even though you’re two timing me and he’s two timing you!”

“Huh?!” You almost drop Luffy right out of your arms, “I’m not cheating on you with Sabo!”

“Then why did I see the two of you here on a date the other day!” He shoots back, “Bein’ all giggly and shit!”

“Oh my god.” You want to smack yourself from his stupidity, “It wasn’t a date! We were checking the place out to see if he wanted to bring Koala here!”

Ace crosses his arms, “And just who the hell is Koala!”

A throat clears from the side, the mysterious woman rising her hand, “That would be me.”

“Oh.” The fight deflates from Ace as he looks between Sabo and the newly named woman, gears slowly turning in his head, “So you’re not cheating on me?”

“No, you big dummy.” You roll your eyes, “I was just trying to help Sabo a bit.”

“Koala.” Sabo pulls her attention back, “I am so sorry-” But before he can finish his apology is cut short by Ace’s loud laugher.

“Oh, that’s great!” Ace cackles, “Practicing because you were nervous!” He croons.

Sabo immediately colors, fists clenched, “That’s rich coming from you! Like we didn’t hear you practicing in the mirror before you’re first date with (Y/N)!”

“What!” Ace’s eyes go wide as he quickly glances at you, “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“And you used to call (Y/N) a witch!” Luffy chirps.

Sabo drops his head into his hands, letting out a deep sigh before meeting Koala’s bemused stare, “I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to see me again.”

“Whaddya mean never see you again!” Ace butts in, “You’re a catch Sabo!” He spins towards Koala, “You should be counting your stars you even got a first date! I mean, he folds his underwear! Who does that!”

“Alright.” You cut in, pulling Ace back by the collar of his shirt, “I’m glad we established you don’t fold your underwear. But how about we leave these two alone now?”

“I’m just saying babe!” Ace rambles as he’s dragged out of the shop.

Once you’re outside you finally let go of Ace, placing Luffy on the ground beside you. “Want to explain what the hell that was back there?” You raise a brow, “Do you really think I would cheat on you? And with Sabo? That either of us would do that to you?”

“What else was I supposed to think! I saw you and him here and when I texted ya, you said you were doin’ shopping!”

“Oh.” It’s your turn to look a little embarrassed, shrinking from your geared up stance, “I didn’t mean to lie to you, it’s just. Sabo wanted to keep it a secret.”

Ace shrugs, awkwardly rubbing at his neck, “It’s alright. I should have just tried talking to you. Instead of doing,” He waves to his face, “all this.”

“I don’t know.” A small smile dances on your lips, reaching out to twirl some of the fake beard hairs, “This might be a nice look for you.”

Ace raises a brow, pulling you in by the waist, “Is that so?” He leans closer, earning a giggle when the hairs tickle your face.

“Knock it off!” You squeal, batting at his chest.

Ace redoubles his efforts, causing quite the scene on the street as he plants a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“Ace!” You laugh, finally getting enough space between the two of you that he relents, mirth still dancing in his eyes. Your smile softens, heart still fluttering thinking about how much this dumb man loves you. “But really Ace, next time, talk to me, okay?”

“Promise.” He nods, “And I’m sorry for not trusting you.”

Your fingers push down the beard so you can properly cup his cheek, “And I’m sorry for giving you a reason not to.”

“We’ll work on our communication babe.” He nuzzles into your cheek, “The article said it was one of the foundations of a healthy relationship.”

“Article?” You hold back a snort, “Reading the relationship advice columns in the newspaper now?”

“And so what if I am?” But the words lose their bravado when a pink dusting fills his freckled cheeks.

You roll your eyes, “And here you were givin’ Sabo shit for scoping out the coffee shop.”

“How’d ya think that’s going anyway?”

“Well.” You both turn to peer inside, “Now that we’re out of their hair I’m sure- oh shit!”

.

Luffy kicks his feet back in forth in the spot beside Sabo, loudly slurping from the straw of his brother’s drink with his beard hanging loosely around his neck.

Not that Sabo cares it’s the boy’s second caffeinated drink of the day, you and Ace can deal with his energy burst and crash as payback. It’s the least you deserve after you crashed his date and now are too busy making up outside to notice Luffy scampered off.

“Hey Koala?”

“Yes, Luffy?” She gives Luffy a warm smile and Sabo feels his heart stutter at the sight. No wonder Ace fell for you so quickly.

“Does this mean you’re gonna be my babysitter too?”

[codenamesazanka]

AU where Spinner and Shigaraki both knows Japanese Sign Language. Fragmented excerpts.

•

The moment the Stain cosplayer appeared in the room, Tomura knew there was going to be a problem.

Kurogiri knew this too, which was why he leaned towards Tomura and murmured, “Please allow him a chance.”

“Shut up,” Tomura said. “I know.”

He had decided to use all aspects of Stain - his image, his popularity, his philosophy - for his own ends. That still didn’t mean Tomura liked the guy one bit. That he had to tolerate any mention of Stain made his neck burn harder with the itch, and in assigning the blame to Stain, made him hate the man even more.

The second problem came when the cosplayer stepped up to him, and Tomura spoke.

“Real name?”

It took a moment for the cosplayer to answer. And when he did…

“I’m Spinner!” Spinner jabbed a thumb at himself. “I’m here to make Stain’s dreams a reality. I live according to his will.”

Tomura gave himself a second to suppress the desire to literally kick Spinner out. Loudly, he bit out his question again. “I said, real name.”

“Oh.” Spinner froze, his shoulders lowering slightly. The pomposity was replaced with guardedness. “Iguchi Shuuichi.”

Weird guy, Tomura thought. The way his bravado faded all of a sudden. He already knew Iguchi - Spinner - was going to be an ostentatious pain-in-the-butt, but the act disappeared much too quickly.

“Quir–” Tomura barely finished the word before Spinner spoke again.

“My quirk is… Gecko. I can climb on anything. My hands and feet can stick to basically any surface.” Spinner touched the sword at the back of his waist. “But I know how to use a knife. I can handle myself in a fight.”

Tomura considered this. Judging by the lack of details, what Spinner said about his quirk was probably the full extent of what he could do. Fighting with a knife was insufficient against most Heroes, but not entirely useless - quite a few Heroes suck at close-range combat. Tomura knew better than anyone - be fast, get close, one touch, one stab - and you’ve got a dead man.

Out of nowhere, Spinner started talking again. “Stain was right about false Heroes! There needs to be a purge. All the Heroes who only care about money, about fame, about their image—”

“No one asked,” Tomura growled. “Shut up.”

But Spinner continued, completely ignoring Tomura. “—weeded out for a True Hero Society. I—”

Tomura lost all his patience. He pointed at the door, and only then did Spinner falter and stop. “That’s it. Get out.”

Spinner looked at the Tomura’s hand, then turn to glance at the door. As if there was any ambiguity in Tomura’s order.

“Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri said. “Look at his ears.”

He doesn’t have any, was Tomura’s first thought. Fitting, because nothing seemed to—

Tomura paused.

While ears - probably would be green and scaly like the rest of Spinner? - didn’t exist, there were something like earbuds on both sides of Spinner’s head. His eye-mask nearly hid them away, but something peach-colored did barely poked out from underneath the mask.

“Huh." Tomura understood. But even if he did, did he really want such an annoying guy around? Someone who couldn't be upfront… but did had the guts to still show up.

Making a decision, Tomura mentally reached into the depths of his head, and pulled out a rusty, shaky skill that he hadn’t used in a while. But it should be enough.

『O-I,』 Tomura fingerspelled, and privately enjoyed the way Spinner’s eyes grew wide and round and huge. 『Can you sign?』

Spinner nodded, just a single, slow nod. 『Yes.』

“Good,” Tomura said, giving a shake of his fist in front of his face. “So get out.”

“Shigaraki Tomura,” Kurogiri said, even though the terrified look on Spinner’s face was funny.

“If he needed to use sign language,” Tomura said, translating everything into movements of hands. “He should’ve said so from the start.”

Spinner regained his bearings, and began to sign too. 『I didn’t think…』 He paused, and started over, this time talking as well. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Write it on a piece of paper then,” Tomura snapped. “You’ve been wasting everyone’s time.”

Kurogiri cut in. “If all misunderstandings have been cleared up, then why don’t we start over?”

Spinner averted his eyes, flushing. The scales on his cheeks can apparently turn slightly pink. “Fine.” Then, with the tightest and tiniest of movements, he signed, 『Sorry.』

“Shut up about Stain too,” Tomura warned. Curling his thumb and index finger, he made a sign, tapping his hand against his shoulder thrice.

“Name?”

…

“How?” Spinner said, while he signed the rest of his question. 『How do you know how?』

Tomura ignored it. “So? Are you deaf?”

“…Hard-of-hearing,” Spinner said as he signed, with much reluctance. “It's my quirk. I have trouble with low voices. Men’s voices in general. Sounds that are too soft.”

“Even with hearing aids?”

“They help, but…” Spinner shrugged. “Not much.”

Tomura glanced at the peach-colored hearing aids. Couldn’t even afford to get ones that match his color.

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“A word here and there.” Spinner frowned. “And you have that– mask, so I can’t see your mouth! I couldn’t read you at all!” He gave Kurogiri a brief look, and Tomura remembered that, yeah, Kurogiri didn’t have a visible mouth. Or any facial features besides his wispy eyes.

In that regard, Kurogiri wasn’t unique. There were heteromorphs who just didn’t have mouths or any means to speak, so they became sign language users. But overall, most sign language users were deaf, and wore implants. And the majority weren’t heteromorphs. So speech and speechreading reigned over pure signing.

The sign language officially taught in Japan had existed since the pre-Advent days, and then some. It largely followed spoken grammar and structure, so it wasn’t too hard matching signs to words, though Spinner sometimes skipped over his spoken words, and had a tendency to just trail off halfway as his hands finished the sentence.

Spinner signed with accents, too. Hokkaido signs popped up here and there, but his main accent was from his claws. His signs were careful, reserved, unwilling to take up too much space. The fists he made were loose; it was his claw tips that touched, rather than his fingertips.

Watching those claws was interesting.

“How do you know sign language?” Spinner asked again, though this time his demeanor was more demanding.

“Multilingualism,” Tomura said.

“Are you also–”

“No, I’m not deaf or hard-of-hearing.” Tomura huffed. “Don’t be so surprised. Hearing people can learn it, you know.”

Tomura moved on. “Spinner. Why do you want to join the League of Villains? Nothing about Stain. Why do you want to join?”

Spinner took his time answering. He looked at his hands, as if reading the scales on his palm and claws at his fingertips. Reading the history of his life recorded upon them.

When he finally looked back at Tomura, it was with no uncertainty, and no false front. Only true conviction. Each sign he made was clear, each word he spoke enunciated.

“I want to change the world.”

…

…

…

Five fingers, and anything he touched got decayed. He pinched things as if he was a germaphobe. He held his consoles with his pinkies sticking out. For a firm and tight grip, he doesn’t use his index finger.

Only when Tomura signs, can he make use of all his fingers.

...

...

...

(Spinaraki occurs, as in canon. Fine, also add a bit more spinaraki. Then jumping alllllllll the way to Act III, at Mt. Fuji)

He touched his left hand to the ground, flat with all five fingers, that was all that's needed—and then indulged the whim to use his right hand as well. But only his index finger: touching the ground where the fingers of his left hand are resting. He drew a line outwards, across the cracking earth. The word; the promise, the dream, finally made real.

The horizon.

Spinner, Tomura thought. It’s here.

•

Notes:

All signs that are described are accurate Japanese Sign Language.

The sign Shigaraki uses for 'name' is Kansai dialect.

••• I headcanon Shigaraki having grown up in Kansai - that's where Jaku and the hospital and the Doc is; where there was once also a town named Shigaraki (different characters tho), in the former Koka district (using the same character as AFO's Koga Construction company...).

irl, lizards have a hearing range of 100Hz and 10kHz. Humans have a range of 20Hz and 20kHz. So people can hear a wider range of pitches than lizards - like low voices. Spinner's quirk is Gecko, so...

In this AU, for a few years after being picked up by AFO, Tenko/Tomura continued to be mute due to trauma. So he was taught JSL.

The sign for horizon in JSL

[kat651]

Lindir x Vampire reader

“If I told you the truth of who I am, you would hate me.” (Prompt)

Mellon nin: my friend 

“Two more sheep were killed last night along with a horse, we are running low on live stock.” You heard Lord Elrond say to Lindir as you pressed your ear up against the door. You frowned and tears ran down your face. You didn’t want to kill them but you were starving. 

That had been three days ago…

You sat quietly in a corner of the library watching as Lindir read a book. You could hear his heart beating from across the room you licked your lips subconsciously before gently sinking your sharp fang into your bottom lip. You were hungry and with every passing second you grew more hungry. You loved him yes, but your want for blood was driving you mad. You shifted in your seat and Lindir looked up, his deep brown eyes meeting your face. “Y/n, is everything alright?”

His voice almost pushed you over the edge of your quickly dwindling self control. “Everything is fine, Lindir…” you lied. 

He set down the book and walked over to you, his robes swaying slightly as they did. He gently placed his hand on your cheek. You could feel his pulse. You whimpered slightly and Lindir frowned, gently stroking your cheek. He was driving you mad and he didn’t even know it. 

“Lindir please, not now…”

His frown deepened and he pulled up a chair. “Y/n… what’s wrong?”

You looked away from him, trying to ignore his heart beating which seemed as if it were in your ear. 

You looked at him with shame in your eyes. He gently took your hands. “Y/n, what bothers you?”

You closed your eyes and let out a whimper. “I-if I told you the truth, you would hate me, Mellon nin…”

“I could never hate you.”

You frowned. “And you can’t help me with my situation…” you mumbled as your eyes fell upon his neck. You could see his veins there pulsating with every beat of his heart. 

“Y/n… you worry me.”

You bit the tip of your tongue with your right fang, hoping that the taste of your own blood would sooth your ache for his, it did not instead it only became worse.

“Y/n, please…”

You looked into his pleading eyes and sighed. “Lindir, I’m hungry, but not for food, I’m hungry for something else, something far…sweeter…”

“Like a desert? Wine? Tea and honey?”

You shook your head. “No I’m hungry for-”

“I’ve got it, the ginger berries I brought well snuck you last week.”

You shook your head. 

“Then… what?”

You moveded closer until your lips were mere inches from his. 

“Y-y/n?” He asked nervously.

You smiled. “I’m hungry for…you…” was your whispered response before you pressed your lips on his. 

He gave off a muffled yelp before pulling you closer and running his fingers through your soft hair. 

You pulled away and gently kissed his neck. “But I can’t have you… you’d hate me if I told you the truth of what- who I am…”

He kissed your soft lips again. “Y/n, I would never hate you…”

“Even if I was a blood-thirsty monster?” You asked. 

“Y/n, you’re not a-” he stoped mid sentence as you grimaced, flashing your fangs. You gently licked one of them and Lindir gulped loudly. 

You waited for him to shout for the guards, to grab the sword from the set of armer next to him, for him to hit you. But he did none of those, instead he gently cupped your face in his hands and he pressed his lips on yours. “You’re beautiful…” you whispered before he tilted his head back, exposing his neck. 

You hesitated a moment before kissing his neck and slowly moving your tongue in small circles. “Well? Are you gonna bite me or not?” He whispered. 

You smiled and sank your fangs into his neck, drawing a small amount of blood. He gasped and then went limp as you slowly sucked his blood. He let out a tiny moan and clawed your back. “A-am I going to become like you?”

You drew back and licked the blood from his neck and your lips. “I would never make you endure this curse, never being able to step into the light of the sun, always wanting blood, always starving. Food is good yes, but in order for me to live I need blood, I could never turn you into a monster like me…”

Lindir placed his lips on yours. “I’ll gladly give my blood if it means you’ll stay alive.”

You frowned. “Lindir, I need more than just a taste to survive, I need much more…”

His eyes widened. “It was you! You killed the cattle horses and sheep! Y-you drained them of their blood you your a-a…”

“Monster?”

He shook his head. “I’ll find you food, but you can’t go killing the animals.”

“Lindir I didn’t want to kill them I was starving! If I didn’t drink their blood I would die.”

He gently placed his finger over your lips. “As I said before, I will find you food, don’t worry…”

You smiled and gently sank your teeth into his neck once more, only taking a little, you didn’t want to weaken him from taking too much blood. 

Lindir sank to his knees and you fallowed him, taking his blood as slowly as you could, enjoying every drop. 

You heard metal scraping and you looked up to see lord Elrond standing with his sword drawn and wide eyed. “Step away from him.”

You retracted your fangs from Lindir’s neck and he fell limp in your arms. 

Elrond’s eyes widened even more when he saw the blood on Lindir’s neck, it slowly trickled down. 

“You better pray he isn’t dead or the death I give to you will be slow and painful, you wretched monster.”

Tears pricked your eyes and you clutched Lindir close, using the body of the elf you loved as a shield. 

“Let go of him.”

“And expose my body as an easy target do you think I’m mad?”

Elrond glared. “Well you obviously aren’t in your right mind that’s for certain.”

Lindir’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up at you, his hand slowly landing on your cheek. “Y/n, you didn’t have to bite me so hard, you know that, right?”

You looked down at him and the tears in your eyes fell, hitting his cheek. 

He sat up and gently wiped away the tears. “Hey I’m alright, you didn’t hurt me I promise, I know you would never hurt me…”

“Lindir! She just drank your blood doesn’t that scare you?!?” Lord Elrond shouted, fearful for Lindir’s health. 

Lindir looked over and gasped when he saw the sword. “My lord, please put the sword away, she means no harm.”

“She drank your blood!”

“Because I let her!”

“You what?” Elrond asked, sword falling from his grasp. 

Lindir rose and you did as well. “She was starving, she knew she couldn’t keep going after our livestock so she came to me for help, and I knew what had to be done,” Lindir looked at you. “Sometimes we have to make a sacrifice for the ones we love…”

You blushed and looked away. “Lindir,” you murmured trying to hide the redness in your cheeks. 

Elrond looked between the two of you and sighed. “Lindir do you really love and trust her?”

Lindir looked at you, gently cupping your face in his hands. “Yes, I do.”

You smiled and hugged him, burying your face in his chest as you slowly took in his scent. 

Lord Elrond picked up his sword, sheathed it and walked to the door. “Oh, and y/n,” he said, pausing in the doorway. “I would recommend finding another food source, the livestock is running low…”

You buried your face further into Lindir’s chest, inhaling deeply. “I’ll find a way…”

-.-.-

One hundred years later, all of Rivendell knew your secret and none of them hated you. In fact, you became a guardian of Rivendell, Gandalf had found a way for you to spend small periods of time in the sunlight and you used that time wisely, scouting for any dangers and hunting down wild animals. There were so many right outside of Rivendell they you didn’t have to kill them. You only took a little from each, so both you and they survived. 

As for Lindir…

“Come on! Jump!” The little elfling shouted. 

You shook your head as your husband plunged into the water along with your twins a boy and a girl. “Lindir,” you said smiling and shaking your head. “I had twins, not triplets…”

Lindir swam over to the dock and pulled himself up. “Come on, it’s a perfect day for a swim!” And with that he pulled you into the water. 

Your children were blessed. They were half vampire, meaning they drank blood yes, but it wasn’t essential for them to live. They could stay in the sun much longer than you, they just burnt easily. 

You splashed Lindir. “That’s for pulling me in!” 

Yes your life had turned out the be great in all the right spots. 

“Cannonball!” Elrohir shouted with his twin brother, Elladan right behind. Very few could tell them apart and your family was amongst those few. Even though they were over two thousand years old, they still behave like children at times. 

．．．𝒻𝒾𝓃