#op your style is SO GOOD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

Note

Hey girlll I love your blog so so so much! Congrats on the 4k bc you absolutely deserve it🫶🏼

I just had a little angsty request for Charles lando or Oscar (you can pick any you’re feeling more atm, I eat up anything ab my boys)

I saw this prompt maybe you could use - - "I can be there when you need me!" "But I did, and you weren't."

late night talking.

op x fem norris!reader

in which lando’s little sister has been sneaking around with his teammate, but it’s starting to have its challenges…

hiiiii thank u sm anon! love this request love you MWAH! so appreciative of this request and all of the others and that y’all trust me to bring your ideas to life!! i hope this hits the way you wanted it to! let me know what you think, big love 🤍

songs to set the mood: late night talking by harry styles, i love you by billie eilish, over my head by james marriott, if these walls could talk by 5sos

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, secret relationship, brothers teammate trope (r is lando’s sister), fingering, morning sex, angsty needy sex, lando being an embarrassing little shit

4.1k words

sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.

that’s what you do, oscar and you.

you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.

you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.

rinse, repeat.

you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.

lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.

and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.

“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.

he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.

it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.

“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.

“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.

you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.

“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.

“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.

oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.

“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.

“more careful?”

you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.

“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.

“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”

“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.

you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.

“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.

“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.

he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.

“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.

“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.

“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.

you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.

“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”

“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.

a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.

it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.

somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago

“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.

“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.

“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.

“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.

you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.

“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.

“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.

“agreed.” he breathes.

“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.

“always.”

always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.

you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar��s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.

you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.

“lando, are you okay?”

will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.

your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.

that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.

and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.

but you stand there alone.

just like always.

somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago

“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.

you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.

the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.

“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.

he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.

“brown?” he questions teasingly.

“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.

“why?”

“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.

“you flirting with me?”

“you bet i am.”

you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.

the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.

he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.

“you just stood there.” you croak.

“love, i-“

“don’t call me that. please.”

hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.

“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.

you nod feebly.

“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”

“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.

“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“

“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.

“i can fix this, i will.”

“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.

“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.

“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”

“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately

“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.

you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.

“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”

“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.

“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”

“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.

oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.

“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.

the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.

“i love you, osc.” you whisper.

he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.

“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.

“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.

he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.

“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.

“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.

he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.

“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.

“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.

“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.

your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.

“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.

you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.

“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.

“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.

it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.

“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.

oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.

“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.

“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”

you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.

“what?”

“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.

“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.

“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.

“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“

“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.

“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.

“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”

“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.

“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.

you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.

“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”

“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.

“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.

“promise, i promise, i love you.”

you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.

“i know.”

“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.

“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.

he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.

“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.

“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.

“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.

his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.

“there’s something we gotta do.”

you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.

still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.

ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.

“oscar, what-“

“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.

oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.

your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.

“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.

“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.

lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.

but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.

“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.

“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.

“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.

“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.

“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.

“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.

“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.

all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.

“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”

jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.

“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.

“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.

“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.

“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.

you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.

you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.

you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.

when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.

you and oscar, you’re built to last.

“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.

it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.

the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.

“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.

“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.

“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.

yeah. duh. come on, man.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.

lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.

you’re gonna be okay.

hehe

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne

2K notes · View notes

rarestdoll · 4 months

Text

doggie (tribbing) w ellie

prompt: been having tribbing brain rot for the past few days n i saw 🎀 this video 🎀 on twtr that only made it worse so > <

tags: lesbian, 18+, tribbing 💦💦💦✂️✂️✂️, doggie style ♡, porn w/o plot, topping from the bottom!ellie

ps: wrote this while high :3 so im sorry if it not supr good!

ellie asking u to come sit on her clit and at first ur confused but once she has both of u naked, u bent over in all fours with ur back to her, gasping as she presses her hips up to your ass to slide her clit over urs, u actually understand what she means. ellie swears she sometimes feels like what she thinks having a dick (ghost dick she likes to call it) is like whenever u guys fuck like this, but this new angle has ellie damn near begging she had one with the way ur fucking back onto her. she has to stop herself from digging crescents into the meat of ur thighs as thrusts herself against urs, sound of skin slapping together wetly and ellies low groans fill the small space of her room as ur cunts kiss one another. she has half the mind to flip u both over to hold ur legs to ur chest and fuck u properly but she likes the view of ur ass bouncing on her pelvis and the way breathy whines fall from ur lips whenever she takes an extra second to angle herself up a lil higher so she can feel ur sopping folds drag directly over her puffy bud. with the way ur riding her now ellie knows it won't take much longer for her to cum so she quickens her pace, planting her feet on the bed so she has the proper leverage to pound into u, biting down a whine herself when she hears ur whimpers turn into drawn out moans each time her hips meet ur ass. she knows ur also close by the way ur thighs are trembling and she wishes so badly she can see ur face scrunch in pleasure, an image she fondly has burned in her head, but instead she ops for pulling one of your shaking legs back towards her so she can slot ur legs together, now full on fucking u with her cunt. ellie's thrusts are brutal against u, her slick mixing with your own as she digs her blunt nails into your flesh, relishing in the broken keen she gets in return. ur in tears, babbling her name along a pleathora curses tumbling from ur lips as u both finally fly over the edge, cum gushing down each others thighs, stickiness of it making wet squelching sound out between u both, the filthy noise makes ellie chuckle breathlessly as u both come down from ur highs.

a/n: mmmmpphfff i need her so bad TT TT

#wlw #lesbian #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #tlou2 #the last of us smut #ellie williams smut #♡ navigation #ki rambles

2K notes · View notes

bixels · 4 months

Text

I think 90% of my gripes with how modern anime looks comes down to flat color design/palettes.

Non-cohesive, washed-out color palettes can destroy lineart quality. I see this all the time when comparing an anime's lineart/layout to its colored/post-processed final product and it's heartbreaking. Compare this pre-color vs. final frame from Dungeon Meshi's OP.

So much sharpness and detail and weight gets washed out and flattened by 'meh' color design. I LOVE the flow and thickness and shadows in the fabrics on the left. The white against pastel really brings it out. Check out all the detail in their hair, the highlights in Rin's, the different hues to denote hair color, the blue tint in the clothes' shadows, and how all of that just gets... lost. It works, but it's not particularly good and does a disservice to the line-artist.

I'm using Dungeon Meshi as an example not because it's bad, I'm just especially disappointed because this is Studio Trigger we're talking about. The character animation is fantastic, but the color design is usually much more exciting. We're not seeing Trigger at their full potential, so I'm focusing on them.

Here's a very quick and messy color correct. Not meant to be taken seriously, just to provide comparison to see why colors can feel "washed out." Top is edit, bottom is original.

You can really see how desaturated and "white fluorescent lighting" the original color palettes are.

[Remember: the easiest way to make your colors more lively is to choose a warm or cool tint. From there, you can play around with bringing out complementary colors for a cohesive palette (I warmed Marcille's skintone and hair but made sure to bring out her deep blue clothes). Avoid using too many blend mode layers; hand-picking colors will really help you build your innate color sense and find a color style. Try using saturated colors in unexpected places! If you're coloring a night scene, try using deep blues or greens or magentas. You see these deep colors used all the time in older anime because they couldn't rely on a lightness scale to make colors darker, they had to use darker paints with specific hues. Don't overthink it, simpler is better!]

#not art #dungeon meshi #rant #i'm someone who can get obsessive over colors in my own art #will stare at the screen adjusting hues/saturation for hours #luckily i've gotten faster at color picking #but yeah modern anime's color design is saddening to me. the general trend leans towards white/grey desaturated palettes #simply because they're easier to pick digitally #this is not the colorists fault mind you. the anime industry's problems are also labor problems. artists are severely underpaid #and overworked. colorists literally aren't paid enough to do their best #there isn't a “creative drought” in the anime industry. this trend is widespread across studios purely BECAUSE it's not up to individuals #until work conditions improve anime will unfortunately continue to miss its fullest potential visually #don't even GET ME STARTED ON THE USE OF POST-PROCESSING FILTERS AND LIGHTING IN ANIME THOUGH #SOMEONE HOLD ME BACK. I HATE LENS FLARES I HATE GRADIENT SHADING I HATE CHROMATIC ABBERATION AND BLUR

2K notes · View notes

imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 8 months

Text

OP smutty headcanons

Warnings: ⚠️no minors pls ⚠️

Just some fun headcanons I have for some of the OP men ☠️

OP men: Zoro, Sanji, Law and Luffy.

pt. 2

Roronoa Zoro:

- he’s gonna be rough with you (are you really surprise???)

- but his aftercare is actually thoughtful. If thoughtful means getting you a wet nap to clean up and putting you to bed because he practically ruined your body

-he’s gonna be smirking pridefully when he sees you walking funny the next day

- degrading (receiving) tell him you think mihawk would be a better lover or that sanji’s stamina is stronger - he’s gonna be so pissed but he’s gonna dick you down harder. Call him weak and you’re done for, might as well save up for a new pussy.

- oral (receiving) he’s gonna sit back and relax while you do the work. Arms crossed again his chest the entire time, he’s not gonna let you know he’s enjoying himself -that’s for weak men.

- thigh kink: his favorite way to watch you get off is by riding his enormous thighs and you’re eyes have to be on him the whole time.

Black Leg Sanji:

- Praise kink (receiving) tell him what a good boy he is!

- Hand kink (giving) he only uses his hands for two things - cooking and fingering you until your juices are all over his fingers.

- Food Play (giving) he wants to feed you chocolate covered strawberries while fucking you. If you allow it, can he please lick chocolate off your nipples???

- Nipple sucking (giving) His favorite thing is to lay his head upon your lap, your fingers in his hair as he sucks on your nipples. He can cum in his pants if allowed enough time. He got mommy issues yall.

- Missionary King: he wants to see your face at all times and he wants to treat you like a Queen. And queens don’t have to lift a finger! He’s gonna take good care of you and make sure you cum first before him.

- Aftercare includes cleaning you up himself, drawing a bath for you and making sure you have enough food and water.

Trafalgar D. Water Law:

- you have to take the lead, he’s kinda shy….

- but once the ball gets rolling…he tends to be a little more assertive but polite. “Is this fine?” He’ll asks when he starts to move faster in you.

- he can’t handle how cute you look when he’s inside you that he asks if you guys can do doggy style instead. He can’t focus, so that’s his favorite position.

- he’s needy and stalks you around the ship. He won’t outright say it but he’s always down to fuck. Or maybe some foreplay? He has no problem sending you two to his room with his power, he can have you naked on his bed in seconds!

- praise kink (giving/receiving) he likes when you tell him how good he’s making you feel and in return, he will (under his breath, he’s shy!) how good you make him feel.

- aftercare includes telling you to use the restroom right after. He’s a doctor ya’ll he doesn’t want you to get a UTI. But then he’ll beckon you back to the bed because he likes to cuddle. Cuddling is mandatory for at least thirty minutes. He’s the big spoon.

Monkey D. Luffy:

- he’s a little complicated, but he’s an eager lover.

- he’s a “I need it now and I don’t care where we’re at or whose around” kinda guy. There’s been enough times where the rest of the crew has come to recognize the look in his eye and quickly leave the two of you alone.

- he likes eating…so eating you out is his favorite thing to do. His head digs into your thighs and he acts like he hasn’t eaten all day. “You taste really good!”

- praise kink (receiving/giving) tell him he’s gonna be the king of the pirates and he’ll do whatever you want. Every time you make him cum, he always is thankful and rewards you with a kiss and a pat on the head. But you tell him he needs to do more than that! He does lol

- his stamina lasts forever. He can raw dog you for hours if you allowed it but most of the time you have to beg him to finish - your body can’t handle it!

- aftercare really is just him bringing food for you and him to eat in bed. Then a really long nap, his arms wrapped around you - even if you wanted to leave, you couldn’t!

……………….

Send me more characters to headcanon!

#op headcanons #one piece headcanons #Luffy x reader #Zoro x reader #sanji x reader #law x reader #op smut

1K notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 9 months

Text

Dead Disco / Chapter 7

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI. Brief suggestive content. Angst, anxiety, self loathing, relationship issues. Darling is her own tag/warning. Panic attack, eating related issues, fainting. Emotional hurt/comfort, fluff. Established throuple. It's better when they're here.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

Kyle grins in response, and then pulls you in for a hug. His face is full mirth, his cheer warming you from the inside, and you embrace him in return.

“’bout time they bring you out here. No reason to hide you away all this time.” Something nervous, a light giggle, slips out from between your lips, your eyes rolling in an exaggerated fashion. Johnny's hand flexes against the base of your spine.

“Gaz.” Simon sighs, and he barks out a laugh before turning back to you.

“Try not to let these two bore ya to death.” He whispers, before giving them both a nod and ducking down the hall. He makes absolutely no noise, feet silent against the floor, practically disappearing before your eyes, shadow here then gone, presence felt, and then void, all at once.

“He’s nice.” You look up at the two of them. Johnny chuckles, amusement scrawling across his lips and cheeks as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Don’t let him fool ye.” He quips and you frown, confused.

“Gaz is… very, very good at his job. One of the best there is, I’d say.” Simon explains gently, and then your stomach sours, because you remember.

What they do. What their jobs are. Why you’re even here in the first place. You’ve never asked for in-depth detail or explanations, but you’ve heard enough, know enough, to know.

He turns the lock and pushes their door open, giving you a view into their room, a short hall that expands out to something that looks like a college dorm, except maybe a bit bigger. It’s got all the similarities though, cinderblocks and an old, tiled floor, singular window and a bit of an odd smell.

“So, this is your room?”

“Aye. We’ve got a big bed, mostly thanks to Si, and a little more space than everyone else on this floor but, this is it.” It’s sparse too, no pictures or personal items, nothing that looks like or resembles them except…

There’s a bulletin board, hanging on the wall above the bed. It’s empty, save for one thing, a photo that’s been stapled to the cork.

It’s of you, this photo, you under a white sheet, smiling at Simon, who’s behind the camera, with just the shadow of Johnny’s hand along your upper arm. It was taken last year, you can tell, because you recognize the style of your hair from that time, and you stand there for too long, staring at it, mouth partially hanging open, breath held in your lungs.

Nothing in this room that reflects them, or their home, or each other… nothing. Except for a photo of you.

“Darling?” Simon murmurs, and his chest presses against your back, thumb and forefinger stroking along the back of your neck. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah. I… I’m alright.”

“So, like… what is that you guys do?” The question lands to a silent reception, both of them exchanging looks in front of you, almost like you’re not even in the room. You feel awkward, and self-conscious, while they seem to have a silent debate with their eyes.

“We’re in multi-national special ops unit.” Johnny provides, and your eyebrows crease as you process. A what? A multi-national what? You laugh, until you realize their faces are deadly serious.

Wait. Are these guys in the fucking military?

“Special ops, like… the military special ops?”

“Kind of.”

Oh.

Fuck. Your cheeks feel hot, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the alcohol or the topic you’ve stumbled upon, but you swallow loudly as you process it.

You’re not exactly a huge fan of the military. Not like you really know anything about it, just that most of the wars your own country has been involved in for the last twenty years revolve around oil and imperialism, and all the dudes who serve are abusive and predatory. Assholes. Creeps.

Or at least, that’s what it’s like where you’re from.

“She didn’t like that.” Simon murmurs from behind the mask, and Johnny grimaces.

“Alright?” He hums and a small noise gets stuck in your throat, like you want to say yes, want to say no, like you’re not sure what you want. “We travel a lot, for work. So, we’re not always around… that’s where we’ve been the last few weeks. Working.” The words make your heart skip a beat, and you nod, still processing.

Not always around… not always around.

So they really aren’t planning on making this a thing, then. The thought stings with bitterness against your tongue, and you shove it away.

When you don’t say anything in response, Johnny sighs, and reaches for your hand, fingers curled against your palm in your lap. “How did we get on this subject anyway? We’re supposed to be havin’ some fun.” He smiles, big and warm, sending butterflies spiraling through your stomach and up your spine.

Simon’s gaze never strays from your face, and his brow furrows, like he’s reading you, or piecing you together. The scrutiny makes you shiver.

Why are you worrying about it? This is only like the third time seeing them, anyway. You’re getting too attached. You’re getting ahead of yourself. You’re just having fun. That’s all it is.

“Right.” You quip, and then pull your drink towards you before rising from the chair. Your skirt is short, and you realize it’s probably too short when you see Simon’s jaw grinding behind the mask as you turn your body, edge of the fabric brushing against the back of your thighs. His gaze is heavy, it’s hot, and you remember the image of him looking up from between your legs the other night, lower half of his face buried in your cunt, still hidden from view without the scrap of fabric. “So… should we get another round then?” You hold your empty drink, ice clinking against the glass, and Johnny chuckles before standing in front of you, a hand on covetously laying on your waist as his lips brush your cheek.

“’ll get them, love. You sit.”

The bed is very, very warm. You don’t even need the duvet and sheet that you have pulled around your shoulders, your hips, but you snuggle down into them farther, breathing in the scent of Johnny’s shampoo, of Simon’s skin.

It all whirs around you in some soft, soothing scented lullaby, and you allow yourself the indulgence, closing your eyes again even though you’ve only just woken from the nap that you slipped into when they left for a meeting.

You’ve managed to trap their body heat beneath the blankets, and you wiggle around until you’re facing the other side, staring at the bulletin board, your own face frozen in time staring back at you.

You look different. You look like you’re in a haze of contented bliss, a peaceful state of happiness, safe and secure, tucked between the two of them without a care in the world.

Why did it change? Who changed it? When? How?

The questions echo as you piece through the last few months in your mind, trying to place where the original seeds of darkness sprouted from, to find where the murky thoughts and feelings really came from, their roots, their birth.

This process, this seeking, makes your hands shake against the sheets. It makes your legs twitch, feet rubbing against each other while your chest tightens. Dread, panic, shame, all twist and turn through your mind, pinpointing your weaknesses and failures, exposing you to yourself like the fool you are.

They’re trying. Are you?

You don’t need the answers, not truly. You know where the blame lies. You know what happened. You know the part you played; you know the parts the guys played.

You stare at the wall and try to count the patterns in the concrete, willing your brain to focus, willing yourself to pull up, pull out, put your head on straight. The sound of blood rushing in your ears is deafening, loud enough that you think someone may hear it down the hall. May hear you, succumbing to yourself.

It feels like drowning.

They could pull you out. Simon could fix it. They could make it better.

But would they? Could he, now? When nothing is the same?

The memory from leaving the hotel ripples across your heart like a familiar melody, acid burning in your calves as you blink and shudder.

Simon, holding your nape, Johnny, holding you to him in the elevator, in the car.

“Stay with us darling. Stay here. With us.”

You wonder if it will ever be the same again.

You hate this one as much as the last.

Your mouth pulls into a frown, hands resting on your hips as you stare at the canvas in front of you, rotating your head from left to right, like that will make you see it better. Like that will bring it into focus.

The colors are wrong. They don’t harmonize, they don’t crest and swell together like you had envisioned. They don’t blend in a cacophony of floral silhouettes like you saw in your mind.

Instead, they look like a storming sea. Darker hues overpowering the light, like thunder through daybreak.

Maybe you could fix it? Or maybe, you should just abandon this technique. Maybe you could-

There’s a knock at your door.

It’s not light, or gentle, but firm, ringing out in rapid succession and you jerk.

Who could that be? You’re not expecting anyone until-

Oh. Oh no. Oh god. Oh no, no no.

Your eyes dart frantically around the art room before you're shoving the two brushes from your hands into a tray and tripping out into your living room.

“Oh my god.” You gulp out loud to no one but yourself, the person who has spent the last three, possibly four days in a haze, a painting binge, trying to escape the stress of your job, of life, of this… thing that’s going on with Simon and Johnny.

Trying to escape yourself. Your thoughts. Your feelings.

Your flat expresses it well. You think, possibly, it could appear like it had been ransacked. Your clothes are everywhere. Draped over your tiny loveseat couch, shoved between cushions and pillows. Two-day old toast sits on your kitchen counter, accompanying two, three, four coffee mugs that are filled with varying levels of liquid. Your uneaten dinner from last night sits on a plate next to the trash can, your oats from the other morning sit cold in the sink.

A prescription bottle that hasn’t been touched in four days, lurks on the kitchen counter with a handwritten note taped beneath it:

“You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.”

Another knock sounds at your door, thumping followed by the sound of your phone vibrating next to the stove.

Your left sock has a swipe of chartreuse across it. Your overalls are tacky with dried paint. You can vaguely feel your hands touching your hair, your neck, hovering above where your heart hammers.

You can’t let them see you like this.

They’ve never seen you like this.

This is supposed to be light. It’s fun. It’s… not real. They’re not with you. They cannot see.

You take a deep breath.

Maybe you can pass it off. You can… say you’re sorry for the mess, that you’re sorting through things for donation. And you don’t have to lie about painting. That will explain the clothes.

You take a breath, and then open the door to find Johnny on the other side, happily smiling at you, mohawk shining in the light of the hall. He looks you up and down briefly, and you freeze, waiting.

Waiting for him to say something nasty, something hurtful. Waiting for him to reprimand you for failing, to accuse you of being useless, helpless. Waiting for him to tell you he doesn’t have time to deal with this. That you should be better, do a better job of taking care of yourself.

“- and he’ll just be a minute, but we’re so excited, been thinkin’ about ye all week. We had such a good time before we left, really loved sharing those days with you.” What? You blink. He cocks his head. “Love? Y’alright?”

“Yeah.” You answer, voice monotone. Somewhere, trapped beneath layers and layers of the worst pieces, you’re screaming. You’re aching. You’re desperate.

“This all paint?” He motions to the splatters and stains, and you nod robotically. “I remember, you mentioned that last time… that you paint. I uh, draw sometimes.” Of course, he draws. Because he’s beautiful, and perfect. He rubs his neck almost sheepishly before raising an eyebrow at you.

Oh. Right.

“D-do you… want to come in?” You offer it meekly. Please say no. say no, say you’ll wait out in there, say you don’t want to.

“Sure, thanks.” Fuck. He steps by you as you motion, brushing against you closely, close enough that the butterflies flutter and you can feel the heat of him. “This is cozy, yeah?” He gestures to your flat from the kitchen, and you nod again. On autopilot.

All you can see is the food, untouched, uneaten. Evidence of your struggle. A water bottle that’s full to brim. The coffee cups, that you couldn’t even bring yourself to wash. All you can feel is your own skin, dry around your mouth, your nose, and oily everywhere else, your dirty clothes heavy against your body. You can feel your teeth, your tongue, unbrushed, unclean in your mouth, jaw clicking while your grind your molars.

You shouldn’t have let him in. He’s going to see. He’s going to hate you. Hate this.

The room spins.

“Hey,” There’s a hand, on your arm. It’s big and soft, and sweet and you blink again. “Darling.” There it is. That pet name. That nick name. That name that’s quickly becoming your own. The one that makes you feel warm, safe, cherished. The one that makes you feel like this is something more.

You hate it.

You love it.

“What is it?” Johnny’s handsome face peers down at you, concern worrying across his brow.

“N-nothing.” You try to lead him off, but your breathing stutters through your nose, and he looks alarmed.

There’s a new knock at your door, heavy and quick, and you both turn to look just as Simon is filling the door frame, half of his face hidden with the black mask that he always wears.

He watches you. Like a predator. His eyes flick from you, to Johnny, to the kitchen… the living room.

It's like there’s a train sitting on your chest.

“Didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He says softly, clicking the door shut behind him. As soon as it’s secure, the mask comes off, and he’s focused on you, eyes not leaving your face, moving closer and closer until he’s upon you and Johnny, huge hand coming to hold your elbow. “What’s going on?” He murmurs, but it’s not for you. Even if it was, you cannot answer. There’s a train sitting on your chest, after all.

“Ah dinnae ken.” Johnny answers immediately, while his palm works up and down your arm in a calming pattern.

“Darling?” Simon cups your cheek. Ever since he showed you his face, he’s been… like this. Intuitive. Too intuitive. Too keen. Like he already knows. Like he’s been waiting.

“I-“ you try to tell him it’s nothing. That you’re tired. All of your lies flit through your head, the stories you wanted to concoct to explain everything away but nothing comes out. Not even your breath.

The room spins again, but this time so does your head. The floor feels like it’s tilting, or maybe it’s your feet that are off balance. You’re not sure. You feel light though, like your legs don’t even exist. Like your knees aren’t real.

“Shite.” Johnny swears, and lunges, hands darting out to catch you before the world goes black.

“Are you asleep?” There’s a whisper, like a soft touch, against your ear. It’s enough to prickle, enough to crack a smile across your lips, and you press your face into the blankets while strong hands shift your hips.

“I dinnae, might be.” Johnny hums, stroking fingertips down your ribs. It tickles, forcing a breathy giggle from your mouth that’s met with another’s, lips moving with yours while you melt away in a pile of partners and pillows.

“How was the meeting?” You whisper. Simon cradles you to his back, warmth bleeding through his shirt to your skin, and you shimmy closer, pressing hard until you’re flush with him, Johnny watching the two of you with heavy lidded eyes.

“Standard.” Simon answers. “Thought about you the whole time.” He kisses your cheek, arm reaching for Johnny who obliges, nestling himself against your chest. You focus on them, taking long, deep breaths, keeping yourself above water, keeping the murky depths at bay, for now.

It’s better, when they’re here. It’s always better, when you’re together.

“Thinkin’ about ye asleep in our bed, bare cunt on our sheets enough to drive me mad.” Johnny groans, fingers skating across your hip bone. You’re not wearing underwear, just a giant sweatshirt, one of theirs, though you’re not sure who’s.

Lust roars to life between your legs, desire, want, has you clenching, but you try shove it away.

It’s too much, too soon. You’re too… off center. You’ll lose yourself.

But they’re here. They’ll put you back together. Simon won’t let you fall.

It’s not a good idea.

You want it. You want them. Need them.

The back and forth makes your head hurt.

“I- I’m not ready.” You blurt, and he freezes, pulling his hand free immediately but you grab onto it, desperate to have his touch, to feel him.

Guilt burns in your heart.

“Of course, darling.”

“I’m sorry… I want to I just-“

“You never have to apologize.” Simon rumbles and you shake your head.

“I know but, I feel bad. Guilty.”

“Look at me.” He urges, and you shift, all while clutching Johnny’s hand in yours. “We love you. There is nothing for you to feel guilty about. We will be here when you are ready, but there’s no rush.” He strokes a thumb across your cheek, and you lean into it, eyes slipping closed. “I think I’d be more worried if you were ready to jump right into sex, after everything.” Johnny hums his agreement and presses a warm kiss to your shoulder.

“Let’s take a nap then?” He suggests, and you pull his arm to your chest, rocking between the two of them until you’re effectively sandwiched, comfortable, and secure, just the way you like it.

The way you dream about it.

The way you can only hope it might be, from now until forever.

#peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #soap x ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley

755 notes · View notes

jesterwriting · 7 months

Note

Hi Jester!! Hope you’re having a good day 💞 I absolutely love your work !! Your writings style and how you write the op boys.. my heart 🫶

If you’re taking requests, is it okay to ask a confession scenario from Law and Sanji, to a reader who’s never been in a relationship before?? They kinda freak out, after hearing the boys like them, only cuz they like them back but don’t wanna mess up?

Wishing you a good day- and thank you!! Stay awesome <3

pairing: sanji x reader & law x reader (separate)

contents: fluff, idiots in love, confessions, humor, nonbinary reader in sanji’s, gender neutral reader in law’s, reader is short in laws, everyone in this is so stupid, did i say idiots in love yet

word count: 2.4k words

note: AWWW HI im so glad you like my stuff hehe. okay so i got WHOLLY carried away with this request. like totally got carried away, though, i had an absolute blast writing this and hope you enjoy it too<33 idiots in love is my absolute favorite trope if you couldn't tell.

playlist: moscow - autoheart

Black Leg Sanji

It wasn’t obvious at first.

Sanji treated you the same as anyone else, always feeding you when you were hungry or offering a pleasant word when you shared the same space together. Sure, he didn’t fawn over you like he did the ladies, and he certainly didn’t treat you as roughly as he did Zoro, but the two of you had your own rapport. Sanji was nice to you, you were nice to him. That was all there was to it. While it was no secret — at least not to the observant eyes of Nami and Robin — that you wanted a little bit more from the flirtatious cook, you were happy with what you got. There was no reason to ruin a good thing with childish feelings, especially not when you were so inexperienced with them.

What you had was fine. It was good even, you supposed.

That was until Sanji started treating you differently.

It happened almost overnight. The camaraderie you shared with him grew into something entirely new. You weren’t sure what to do about it. When you woke up that fateful morning, Sanji seemed distant, though he wouldn’t stop staring at you with the most bewildered expression you had ever seen. Instead of setting a plate down in front of Nami or Robin first, he placed a breakfast platter right under your nose, a rosy blush staining his cheeks. The final nail in the coffin was the shaky compliment you got from him as you left the room.

“You look positively ravishing today, Y/N.”

You froze in place, fingers curled around the doorknob. When you turned, Sanji blinked at you a few times, lips parted as if he wasn’t sure as to what he said. Seconds passed — though it felt more like years — of the two of you staring at one another. Ashes dribbled from Sanji’s cigarette onto the floor. You shuffled your feet. It was completely silent, save for the sound of your heart thundering in your chest.

“Thanks,” You finally said.

With that, you slipped out the door, unable to stand the tension a moment longer. Something squirmed in your chest, and an anxious tang in the back of your throat made you want to throw yourself overboard. It was one compliment, it didn’t mean anything, you told yourself.

You weren’t sure what scared you more. The idea that it meant nothing, or the idea that Sanji might like you the same way you liked him. Either way, you couldn’t stop trembling. You hoped that whatever this was would work itself out on its own without your intervention.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

In fact, it got worse.

Sanji hovered around you more often, going from occasionally asking if you needed anything from him, to asking every twenty minutes. While he didn’t stop doting on Nami and Robin, he found himself too preoccupied with watching you to remember to refill their drinks on time.

Worst of all, Sanji wouldn’t stop complimenting you. They were far clumsier than the usually smooth flirtations that rolled off his tongue, but they were more than enough to get under your skin and into your heart. You didn’t miss that unmistakable glitter of pride in his blue eyes whenever you blushed under his flattery.

What you wouldn’t give for everything to go back to normal. When you realized you harbored a little crush on Sanji, you never expected it to be reciprocated. Now that it was, you weren’t sure what to do. You had never been in a relationship before, and with your luck, you’d end up screwing everything up.

You flushed when you felt his eyes on you, trailing from the top of your head to your feet. Gentle footfalls approached you, and you braced for an inevitably awkward interaction that you would replay in your head for hours after it was done.

“Hello, my sweet—” Over the past few days, Sanji had gotten more confident with the pet names, much to your chagrin — “Care for a refill.”

“If you can make it alcoholic,” You replied, staring pointedly at the ocean. If you looked at his ridiculously handsome face right now, you’d crumble to dust.

“Anything for someone as lovely as you.” You could practically hear his dumb smile on his dumb lips that you wanted to kiss stupid. Frowning, you fidgeted with your fingers.

You heard Sanji tip the pitcher as ice clinked together, filling your glass. The smell of sea salt filled your nostrils. There were words bubbling in your chest and up your throat, threatening to spew forth and coat the deck with bile. You bit your lip to keep that from happening.

“For you.” Sanji handed you the glass, and his fingers brushed against your own. They were warm, the skin was soft and well maintained. As always, you wondered what they’d feel like cupping your face, Sanji’s lips against your own.

You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Do you have a crush on me or something?”

Sanji’s mouth fell open. Before he could speak, you bulldozed right over him. “It’s okay if you do, I don’t really care, I’m just curious. I mean, maybe I would care because I’ve had a bit of a crush on you since forever. But that’s stupid. I’m stupid. I need to stop talking right now. Why can’t I stop talking?”

“You’re not stupid,” Was the first thing that Sanji said, surprisingly stern for how red he was. Followed by an almost incredulous, “You like me?”

“That’s what I should be saying” You cried. “You’re not supposed to like me back. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He stared at you for a moment before reaching to remove his cigarette from his mouth and dangle it between two fingers. “You’re in love with me?”

“Well, that’s a really serious way to put it, but yeah. Sure. Whatever. I’m in love with you. There! I said it.” You let out a manic cackle. Your face felt so hot, like you were about to burst into flames any second. “I’ve never been in a relationship. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Sanji grabbed you by the shoulders, his expression serious. “I don’t know what I’m doing either. We can figure it out together. If you’ll have me, of course.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug. “Okay. Together then.”

“Together, my sweet.” He said, so suave as if steam wasn’t coming off of him from how hard he was blushing.

Not that you were much better.

Trafalgar Law

You hadn’t meant to overhear. Really, you didn’t. You were passing by the engine room, arms full of supplies you were supposed to deliver to the team, when you overheard your name. Maybe it was nosy of you to start eavesdropping, but anyone would if they were in your position. Once you heard Shachi and Penguin say your name, you stuck around to see what gossip had been floating around on the Polar Tang about you. It was a fact of life, one you refused to be held accountable for.

What you didn’t expect was to find out the captain had a crush. That in of itself sounded wholly ridiculous, and at first, nearly tore your heart in half. You had been harboring feelings for Law for a long time now, none of which you were confident enough to act on. Part of the reason you never confessed was because you had hoped he was too damned awkward to have a crush on anyone else in the first place. The other part was because you were inexperienced. Love was not something that came easy to you. It was messy, rough, and altogether stressful, none of which you wanted to deal with.

What really got you though, was the fact that out of everyone in the entire world, the infamous captain of the Heart Pirates had feelings for you.

You really, really hadn’t meant to overhear.

With your heart beating out of your chest, you shuffled past the engine room and delivered your supplies, wishing you were anywhere but here. This was bad. Law had been avoiding you for weeks, and now, you knew why. At first, you worried you had gotten on his nerves enough that he was finally sick of you. You enjoyed talking to him, even discounting your little crush. Whenever Law had a free moment, you found yourself by his side, chattering away over whatever had caught your fancy. He was a good listener, chiming in with a smirk every so often to show that he was paying attention. Recently, however, Law had started to dip into adjourning halls when he saw you coming, or take his meals in his office rather than sit with you in the mess.

It would almost be easier if he hated you. Then you wouldn’t be sweating profusely in your boiler suit, scared that Law would show up around every turn. How could you look him in the eye knowing that your feelings for him were reciprocated? All you knew is you were thankful he was avoiding you. It made staying as far away from him as possible much, much easier.

You were confident you were doing a good job getting your tasks done without running into the captain until you, quite literally, ran into him. The top of your head knocked directly into his chin, sending you sprawling on the floor and making Law frown. A frown that deepened when he saw you.

Still, he helped you to your feet.

“Watch where you’re going, Y/N-ya.”

“Right, sorry. Bye,” You said, skirting past him.

Law didn’t let you get far before his hand shot out to grab your wrist. His brows were furrowed, and you tried not to think about the glimmer of disappointment in his eyes. “That’s it?”

“What?”

“You’re usually always talking,” He said.

You removed your arm from Law’s grasp. He let go easily, thank goodness, you were fully prepared to wrestle him to get out of this conversation if you needed to. “I just don’t feel very chatty right now. Bye.”

With that, you turned on your heel and marched down the hall. It was quiet for a moment, only the sound of your footsteps resounding against the walls of the Polar Tang. It wasn't until a second, much heavier pair joined you did you start to pick up the pace. To which Law responded to by matching your speed, easily gaining on you. His strides were longer than yours. Two of your steps equaled one of his. At this rate, it would only be a matter of time before he caught you, and then where would you be?

So you started running.

Law faltered for a second before he joined, boots like thunder against the floor. Instinctively, you ducked around the first corner, hoping to lose him, before your stomach flipped and you, once again, ran directly into your captain.

That asshole. He shambles’ed you.

“Why were you running from me?” If he was hurt, he hid it well through an entirely unamused mask. You swallowed hard, shuffling your feet slightly under his gaze.

“I had the runs.”

Law gave you an unimpressed look. “No you didn’t. Now tell the truth. Why did you run from me?”

“Uh.”

You were really in it now. If the universe had any amount of love for you, there would be an emergency happening in about five seconds from now that would demand Law’s attention. But, of course, nothing happened. You were trapped.

“Uh,” Law repeated, his usual smirk worming its way onto his face. It wasn’t until then that you realized just how close to him you were, nose mere inches away from his chest. Your cheeks blazed.

Taking a couple steps back, you fidgeted with your fingers. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business when one of my crewmates runs from me,” Law countered.

He had you there. You weren’t sure how to get out of this, or even if you could get out of this. This was it. D-Day. Your tongue felt too big for your mouth, the pink muscle flailing uselessly. It was hard to breathe as your heart pounded furiously enough to make you feel lightheaded. Finally, after a full minute of silence, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Ireallydidn’tmeantobutIoverheardShachiandPenguinsayyouhadacrushonme.”

As he processed your words, all of Law’s confidence leaked away, the tips of his ears turning bright pink, confirming what you already knew. His pupils darted to your face in search of something.

“What did you think?” Law licked his dry lips and tried again. “What did you think when you heard that?”

“I don’t know because I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we met!” There. You said it. That wasn’t so bad. “I didn’t know what to do, so I was avoiding you.”

Tugging on the brim of his hat to cover his face, Law asked, “So what do you want to do now?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I don’t know! I’ve never been in a relationship before, how am I supposed to know these things?”

“I haven’t either,” He confessed.

You let your forehead knock against his chest. A chuckle rumbled against you as Law brought his hand up to cup the back of your head. His touch was delicate, barely there at all. You couldn’t help but lean into him. “That doesn’t help at all.”

“Get some dinner,” He said. “We can eat in my office together and talk about it more then. No more running.”

“Says the guy who avoided me for three weeks.”

Law only let out a huff while you laughed.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #trafalgar law x reader #sanji x you #trafalgar law x you #sanji x yn #trafalgar law x yn #one piece imagines #one piece scenarios #.jesterwrites

644 notes · View notes

cozage · 1 year

Text

OP Boys and a Sick S/O

How your One Piece boyfriend would react to you being sick on the ship!

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Law

cw: female! reader, some angst, various illnesses

Luffy

He noticed it as soon as he woke up. You were burning up. And when he made a joke, you barely chuckled. “CHOPPER!!! SOMETHINGS WRONG!!!!”

He runs as fast as he can to find Chopper while carrying you and begs him to help you.

He’s got some PTSD from when Nami was sick. You look and feel a lot like how she did during that time and he’s worried.

Luckily you’re just diagnosed with the Grand Line Flu, pretty common and easy to overcome.

He snuggles with you when you’re awake and paces around the room when you’re asleep.

When Sanji brings you food, he doesn’t even look at it. He knows you need your strength. He just wants you better.

Chopper advises Luffy sleeping in the same room as you but Luffy doesn’t care. He’s staying with you.

You’re really restless the first night, so he sleeps on the floor and stretches his arm out to hold your hand.

On the third morning you laughed at his joke, and his eyes started getting watery

“I WAS SO WORRIED YOU WERE GONNA DIE IM SO GLAD YOU’RE OKAY”

Zoro

Zoro didn’t really question it when he hadn’t seen you by lunch. Sometimes you just preferred to stay cooped up in your room or the library.

By dinner, he was starting to get worried. Even more worried when everyone else had said they hadn’t seen you either.

As he entered your room, he noticed all the lights were off. At first he didn’t think anyone was there, but you let out a small whimper of protest to the light.

“You okay?” He sat carefully on the bed and pulled back your blanket that was wrapped around your head.

“Zoro…something’s wrong. I feel awful.” Your voice sounded strained. His stomach sank. Why hadn't he checked on you earlier? “I’ll be back”

He grabs Chopper and rushes back down. He doesn’t want to be gone from you for long. He’s beating himself up over not noticing sooner.

Chopper does a full exam and deduces that you have a severe case of sun-poisoning and possible effects of heat-stroke.

“This is because we laid outside all damn day yesterday isn’t it? I knew that Summer island was hotter than usual” Cue even MORE guilt.

He goes to Sanji and asks for him to make a hydrating meal for you. He doesn’t even pick a fight with the cook, that’s how worried he is.

He lays with you all night and hold you close and keeps apologizing for not noticing earlier.

The next day you’re feeling slightly better, but he’s persistent in keeping you in bed with him all day until you’re fully recovered. He makes runs to the kitchen and grabs things for you all to do.

It’s really just an excuse to have a day together and he secretly loves it.

Sanji

thought it was strange you didn’t come get breakfast. He was initially worried you were avoiding him or he had missed you coming into the kitchen, so he checked all your favorite spots on the Sunny, and still couldn't find you.

He knocks on your door, and with no answer, he just peaks inside for one glimpse to confirm you’re not in there.

Instead, to his horror, he finds you passed out on the ground.

“CHOPPER!!! Y/N IS DOWN!!” His voice echos through the ship and sends everyone rushing towards your room.

Sanji is afraid to move you, so he just brushes your hair from your face and whispers quiet encouragement to you.

He’s so scared. Your face is so white and clammy and there’s nothing he can do.

By the end of his exam, you’ve slipped back into consciousness, though you’re still groggy. Chopper diagnoses you with Low blood sugar and low iron.

You’ve given some iron tablets to take and told to take it easy. Sanji doesn’t want to leave you, but also wants to cook something to help your low blood sugar of course.

He picks you up bridal style and carries you to the kitchen. “Chopper told you not to use extra energy didn’t he? So I guess I’ll just have to carry you everywhere!”

He makes such a good breakfast for you :) you’re starting to feel better already

Sanji is secretly beating himself up because it’s HIS job to keep the crew healthy and give them a balanced diet and you of all people were his oversight (it wasn’t really his fault though you know that)

Even after the food and choppers help yo still have a massive headache so you and Sanji curl up in the fish tank lounge and rest all day long. He only gets up to make people meals.

Sanji occasionally puts his hand on your chest just to make sure you’re still breathing whenever you’re asleep. He’s so worried about you. Vows to never let that happen again because he can’t bear to see you sick like this ever again.

Ace

You’re not a restless sleeper. Usually you fall asleep against Ace and you stay pressed against him all night long. His body emits a nice warmth that you just love to snuggle into at night.

Tonight’s different though. You’re tossing and turning, almost like you can’t get comfortable. Thats his first red flag.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, he reaches out for you, but only finds an empty sheet in your place.

He starts to panic and his eyes scan the dimly lit room. His eyes finally land on you, lying on the wooden floor in the middle of the room

He’s instantly out of bed, right by your side, desperately shaking you awake.

“Ace, stop…” you roll away from him.

“What is it? What’s wrong, y/n?” He can feel that your skin is clammy and abnormally warm to the touch. Your hair is stuck to your face, damp with sweat.

“Marco…I’m going to get Marco. I’ll be right back” he gives you a quick forehead kiss that emits a groan from your half-awake self.

He dashed out of the room and sprints across the ship to the first division commanders room. He begins desperately banging on Marcos door

Marco answers the door and he is NOT thrilled. Until he sees Ace’s face and how worried he is. “Please Marco. She’s sick. Really sick. She’s burning up and I…I don’t know what to do”

Marco follows him back to his room and sees you half conscious on the floor. He bends down next to you and starts taking your vitals.

“Ace, it looks like it’s just a virus. It’ll run its course and she’ll be fine in a day or two. I’ll come back and check on her again tomorrow.” After reassuring his friend that it is not life or death, Marco takes his leave.

Ace can’t sleep though. He grabs a fan, a rag, and a bucket of water, doing anything he can to keep you cool through the night. He just sits by your side and watches you when you’re asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, he’s there, ready to get you anything you need. And he doesn't leave it until you're ready to leave the room again too.

Law

“No thanks, I think I’ll pass tonight.” makes Law raise an eyebrow. You never skip dessert, especially when Penguin is the one who made it.

As you excuse yourself from the table, he waits just a beat before following you out.

“Y/n-ya. Are you okay?” He’s already analyzing your face for any signs of distress.

“I’m fine, Law. Just tired is all”. It’s a lie. And he knows it too. He pulls you into his office without another word.

His hand outstretches toward you “Room”. “Law this really isn’t-“ “Scan”. His word are clipped, and you can see that his worry lines are deep.

“Food poisoning. Seriously? I knew we shouldn’t have eaten at that sketchy bar today.” He’s already grabbing IVs and other meds. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

“It was the oysters right? I knew they tasted funny.” You attempt a weak smile at your captain, which is only met with a glare. “At least you didn’t eat any of them too.”

“You’re sleeping in my room tonight so I can keep an eye on you.” He’s already got an arm around you, helping you stand. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you had someone helping support you. You wish you had the energy to object, but you let him lead you to his room.

As soon as you’re on his bed, your eyes begin to close. The last thing you see is him prepping an IV for you.

He stays by your side. Sitting, watching. Looking for any signs of discomfort on your face.

When you’re sick, he holds your hair back for you. He has water and saltine crackers ready to get the taste out of your mouth, too.

After the first few hours, he starts to relax, and chooses to work at his desk through the night, but he keeps you in his line of sight at all times.

The next morning you are already feeling better because of how fast Law noticed you were sick. You’re still feeling tired, but your appetite is already returning a bit.

Law had Shachi prep some light and comforting foods for you, and you see a smile pass over his lips when you ask for it.

He kisses his the pads of fingertips and then presses it immediately against your forehead. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, y/n-ya”

3K notes · View notes

fan-fan-tastic · 1 year

Text

MEME FULFILLED PROPHECY

Despite being a mass of potholes and quite repetitive, PIDW is very popular, popular enough to have a community of fans. This means not only having fanart, fics and even merchandise, but also an entire culture, with fandom lore and yes, even memes.

One of those was “When Mobei-Jun gets married” it was used to indicate something that would never happen, like “when hell will freeze over” or “when pigs will fly”. It was so popular that there were even some variants, like “it happen at Mobei-Jun’s wedding” or “when Airplane marries Mobei-Jun off”

Shen Yuan really liked this meme because it was supported by canon: there had been several scenes where after a fight, Luo Binghe would look over the spoils and let his right hand man pick a boon. Despite the ever-present trembling maidens, Mobei-Jun would always pick a weapon, or in an instance an ancient relic that had once belonged to his clan. So yeah, Shen Yuan used it pretty often, once he even let it slip out IRL, but luckily no one got the reference.

He even used it once in a thread that went viral: it was a pointless debate over OP’s incorrect interpretation of an arc. Shen Yuan was clearly right, he even had quoted several chapters to prove his point and so the other user had resorted to personal insults. OP had typed something like “You are ridiculous! When will you admit that you are actually a fan of the novel and not an hater?!” To which Shen Yuan had responded with “When Mobei-Jun gets married”

Now, this should have ended the discussion in Shen Yuan’s favor: the meme usually got lots of likes regardlessly of the context, and so he would have won the debate.

But OP for reason had decided to tag Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky himself. “Great Master Airplane, would you marry Mobei-Jun if it means getting Peerless Cucumber admitting that he likes your story?”

To everyone’s surprise the author (sleep deprived an high on caffeine and energy drinks) actually did answer “Damn, I would marry Mobei-Jun for free”.

True to his writing style Airplane dropped the bomb to never addressed it again. That comment had started another meme, although less popular than the other about Mobei-Jun having been married the whole time to the author himself and the ship AirplaneXMobei became the most popular for the character. There few fans that had written crackfics had been insufferable about it, even resurrecting the ‘I shipped X before it was cool’ format just to flex.

After transmigrating into the scum villain and masterfully avoiding the original good’s fate, Shen Yuan one day receives an invitation to a wedding, accompanied by a mission by the System that just says ‘True to your word: User must respect the vow he once made’. Shen Yuan immediately understands what this is about: he would rather jump into the Endless Abyss than do that.

#I am obsessed by #the lost memes of PIDW #that book must have been a mine of memes #and its community pretty toxic #imagine the DRAMA #not sure if we were robbed or spared #but I still would like to know more #svsss #headcanon time #pidw #Shen Yuan #peerless cucumber #shen quingqiu #airplane shooting towards the sky #Shang Qinghua #Mobei Jun #moshang #somehow?

1K notes · View notes

waywardstation · 2 years

Note

MS!Ingo my beloved with his pokemon :3

MORE REALLY AWESOME ART!! thank you OP for taking time to share even more really cool concepts! Wow!!

MS Ingo looks amazing the way you drew him, and Haxorus is super intimidating but I’m sure they’re a big sweetie and mean well, just like MS Ingo!

LOVE THIS! Thank you OP!!

#train of thought au #train of thought au art #LOVE THIS OP #your style is so cool!!!#and your concepts are so good!!!#EATING THIS ART UP

29 notes · View notes

dorothy-rainbird · 2 years

Text

Literally can’t stop imagining isekai’d reader accidentally appearing in Genshin but before the main story. Like, they appear right in Inazuma when Ei was just done leaving her first prototype puppet-

Coincidentally our reader appears right before Kunikuzushi is about to witness his second betrayal and saves him in a very chaotic scenario.

Did I forget to mention that reader gets to keep the in game abilities and time having a very slow effect on them ( 1 hour in Teyvat= 1 minute to reader’s body) basically making them semi-immortal? Yeah reader is op in this fight me.

____________________

Kunikuzushi walked the streets of Inazuma, fascinated but confused by the world around him. He was all alone with no knowledge on how to blend in….

As he walked he could feel others staring and whispering. He did not like it. He was just wondering what to do next when a loud noise from the stalls behind him caught his attention. He turned around.

In one of the food stalls, a person had just fell into the fruit crates from the above set of stairs. Did they jump? They were groaning while the owner of the stall was yelling at them. They wore…peculiar clothing. In fact they looked very peculiar, so different from everybody else.

Kunikuzushi was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the Shogunate Samurai yelling “GET THEM” from the same place from where the stranger fell. Before he could even blink, the stranger jumped from the crate and ran towards him. They grabbed his wrist and continued their dash.

“Bonjour, I’m here to fuck with the timeline! And you’re included!”, the stranger declared. Kunikuzushi wonders what “fuck” means but with the shogunate samurai on his tail he decides to focus on running instead.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” He was confused and mildly scared that a random stranger just appeared out of nowhere decides to kidnap him.

“NO TIME FOR THAT HONEY JUST HANG ON!”

“???”

Ah, he hadn’t noticed that they are running into a dead end that is a massive wall. The stranger was unfazed tho.

Without stopping, they swooped him up bridal style and JUMPED onto a roof beside them. But because of the samurai still after them, they proceeded to parkour out of the city with Kunikuzushi still in their arms. The lad was screaming the whole time lol.

———————————————

The duo managed to escape the city and reach Chinju forest. The stranger panted for air and carefully let Kunikuzushi down. He scooted a good distance away when they did.

Exhausted, the stranger crotched down in front of him, still breathing loudly.

“W-who are you and why did you kidnap me??” Kunikuzushi fearfully asked again, but this this time there were a few sparks of electro around him…

Better start explaining.

“Listen pal, you don’t have to be scared. I ain’t gonna hurt you-“

“Then why did you kidnap me!”

“As I said, I’m not gonna hurt you. If I wanted so then I could have done it the way here.” The stranger replied with a poker face. Kunikuzushi gulped.

“Well then why were you being chased a-and…why did you kidnap me…?”

The stranger huffed and sat down.

“Guess I better explain it to you then…” they met his eyes, he was cautious. Speak wisely.

“*Ahem* Uh…well..you see…” He was staring intently. Don’t slip up about the game’s story or anything about the whole game in fact.

“I’m your…uh…guardian-“

“Guardian?”

“Uh- angel!”

“Guardian angel?” He tilted his head curiously.

“NO! I mean- I’m definitely anything but an angel h-haha..”

“You’re a d-demon?” His fear was back.

“NO NO! I’m uh…your guardian…” they looked into his eyes. And then finally spoke.

“FRIEND!”

“…..??”

“…I’m your guardian friend!”

A very awkward silence rung into ears. He stared. For a good few seconds until…

“You’re my…guardian friend?” He asked, a small curiosity in his eyes.

“YES! I mean- yeah, pretty much.” They smiled.

“B-but…is it normal for friends to kidnap each other??”

Fuck.

How are they going to explain that?

Well, worth a shot.

They took a deep breath and-

“Well you see…guardian friends are very special creatures. They are barely seen in Teyvat. And when the samurai saw me, they thought I was some sort of immigrant and tried to arrest me. I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you normally-“

“How do I know you are my guardian friend? Or how do I know if they actually exist and you’re not some crazy person? And what even was that “fucking with timeline” thing?” He was cautious again but the curiosity never left his eyes.

The stranger smirked. Time to put that in game knowledge in use, eh?

“I’m a person from the future version of Teyvat. Every once a while. Special people are chosen to time travel back into time to do whatever they want. I chose to be your guardian friend because you definitely need one. How would you explain my attire?” The stranger began explaining but Kunikuzushi had his doubts. He was about to interrupt when-

“I also know you like the back of my hand Kunikuzushi.”

He froze. The stranger continued.

“Let’s see, made as a prototype puppet for gnosis but-“

“OKAY OKAY I BELIEVE YOU” He quickly stopped them.

“Heh, you do?” The amused stranger raised an eyebrow.

“Y-yeah…but tell me, what do guardian friends do? I’ve never heard of them.”

With that question the stranger started giggling. Kunikuzushi tilted his head. Did he ask something weird? The stranger got up and with a cheerful smile,

“Ohohoho! That’s simple my friend! Guardian friends are just like guardian angels but more fun!”

“More….fun…?”

“Yep, we basically guide you and all but also provide company. Like a partner in your shenanigans. A friend! An amigo! A chum! A family!”

“A…family..?” He asked confused.

“Oh…do you not know what a family is?”

“No. What is a family?”

The stranger sighed with a small smile and offered him a hand. He was hesitant for a second but took it.

“Join me for a walk buddy, I’ll explain everything.”

He nodded and they strolled around the forest, hand in hand.

“A family is a special person, or a group of people. Don’t matter if human or animal.” The stranger plucked a flower and tucked it in his hair.

“They feel familiar. They feel comfortable. Like the warmth of a small flame.”

A few crytalflies fluttered overhead.

“No matter what happens you can always return to them. They are your home, somewhere you can rest when you are tired of the world.”

“…Do I have a family?”

“Not yet, but you do have a friend.”

“Can friends be family..?”

“They can.”

“So are you my family?”

“That is up to you to accept me as one.”

…..

A comfortable silence was enjoyed as the two friends sat underneath a tree, watching the glowing plants and creatures of the forest.

“I never got your name.”

“It’s y/n.”

_________________

BONUS

Kunikuzushi: Y/n what does “fuck” mean?

Y/n: *chokes on air*

Also here is part 2

#genshin scara #genshin impact #scaramouche #kunikuzushi #genshin x reader #genshin isekai #isekai #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin fluff #genshin crack #genshin x y/n #genshin x you

3K notes · View notes