#or when they want their change a certain way so they get more quarters and say numbers at me

[illusioninfnty]

day 25 ; humiliation

↠ vinsmoke sanji x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 1.8k warnings: nsfw 18+, pervy!Sanji, sub!Sanji, panty stealing, panty sniffing, pussy sniffing (?), degradation, masturbation, cock kicking, cum eating

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

Joining the Strawhat crew wasn’t something that you ever thought would be in your future, but when Luffy rolled up with all of his joyfulness and sincerity, you knew that it was the right decision for you.

And it was.

Until a certain cook joined your crew soon after you.

Sanji, in his defense, wasn’t all that bad. His food was the best you’ve ever had, and he was a great fighter whenever you guys needed helping out with whoever Luffy pissed off that week.

But that was when he wasn’t being a complete weirdo around you.

It wasn’t a secret that Sanji loved women, maybe a little too much. But lately his affections have been focused on you. And although Nami was grateful for it, smirking across the deck and catching your eye whenever Sanji approached you (as subtle as he thought he was being, it was quite obvious what his intentions were) it pissed you off to no end.

Lately, you’ve been noticing that more and more of your panties have been going missing. You were left with only a spare few, and you know that this amount of your underwear (and just your underwear) going missing was not a mere coincidence or laundry getting lost.

There was only one person on this goddamn ship that would be stupid—and horny—enough to steal so many of them without you noticing.

You knew exactly when he would go in and do it too; your routine never changed much from day to day. After you had dinner, you would go train for a couple of hours with Nami. You always felt like you were lagging behind everyone else when there were pirates or marines you needed to fight, and you wanted to make sure you weren’t dragging anyone else down with you.

Those training sessions left the women’s quarters completely free, and long enough for a certain someone to come in and take what he pleased.

You suck on your teeth as you come up with a plan to catch him in the act.

He wasn’t getting away with it this time. And you wanted your goddamn underwear back, too.

~

Sanji knew what he was doing was horrible, immoral, and very much unbecoming of a man like himself, but he just couldn't help it.

You always seemed to avoid Sanji compared to everyone else on the crew. The only opportunities he had to interact with you was when he was serving you food, or saving you in battle. Even then, you barely afforded him a glance.

The few moments that you acknowledged his presence were absolute blessings. He didn’t even care that most often you were glaring at him or sneering in his direction. In fact, he almost liked that better. His cock certainly did, with the way it stirred in his pants every time he saw you looking at him with disgust coating your features, and he had to conceal a boner whenever your hand would accidentally brush up against him.

His only relief came in the form of your panties. He had stumbled upon a pair when he was up early, preparing breakfast. It must have slipped from the rest of your laundry and you forgot about it. It was a thin pair, purple and lacy.

Sanji couldn’t control the way his body heated up just from seeing the pair. He made sure that no one was around, and picked up the pair. It was wrinkled, still dirty. You must’ve never even washed it yet.

Without thinking Sanji lifted the pair to his nose and took one long sniff. He had to bite his lip to contain his moan, and his cock sprang to life in his pants. He ran to the bathroom with your underwear in his hand, and jacked himself off to the smell of your pussy.

Now, Sanji has a routine. He knows exactly when you and Nami are out of the room, and during that time he’ll go in there, pick a new pair of panties, and jack off as he sticks his face in it. It was a foolproof plan, he thought, since you hadn’t caught him yet.

Today was no different. He makes sure no one else is around to see him, and slips in the women’s quarters. Making a beeline straight for where you keep your dirty laundry, he pulls out another pair. He hunkers down in the corner of your room, near your bed, and releases his cock from its constraints as he strokes himself off.

But then a door slams.

Sanji jumps up, hiding the panties behind his back. You’re never back this early, and despite the utter fear that rushes through his veins he can’t help but notice the way his cock throbs at the thought of being caught in the act by you.

“What are you doing?” You phrase it more like a statement than a question, anger clear in your tone.

Sanji blushes and his eyes widen. “N-nothing!” He fails to hide the amusement in his tone, and he knows you notice it too with the way your brow furrows and your eyes squint at him. 

You stomp on over to him, and he can see the glint of realization in your eyes when you spot the panties that he stole.

“It’s not what it—!” he’s interrupted by a kick in the gut from you. His stomach lurches from the force of it, but his cock stirs with aching need.

“Fucking pervert,” you growl out. “Stealing all my fucking underwear. I’ve got none left now!” You let out a frustrated groan and plop down onto your bed, crossing your arms as you glare down at him.

Despite how erect it is, Sanji attempts to tuck his cock back into his pants, partly in shame. He’s stopped by your foot pressing down on his hand. He looks up at you, quizzically, yet in a pleading manner.

“I’m not letting you get away with this,” you start. “If you’re that desperate to jerk off to me, then I want you to do it here.” Sanji can’t believe the words that leave your lips. His erection throbs and precum leaks from the lip, and he has to squeeze the base to keep himself from cumming at that very moment.

He gulps, tugging ever-so-lightly on his cock as he stares up at you. “In front of you?” he asks cautiously, desperately looking for your confirmation.

His answer comes in the form of a roll of your eyes, a snort and curt nod.

He doesn’t need anything else as he begins to stroke himself, hand slick from the wetness of his precum leaking out the tip. He hisses as he thumbs the head, squeezing the base so as to not cum so early in front of you and embarrass himself further.

Sanji strokes himself faster as he glances up at you and your disinterested face. It causes him to let out a shaky sigh, and rut even more intensely into his closed palm.

“Since you want to sniff me so badly,” you start to shimmy out of your bottoms, and Sanji thanks whatever god exists that he was holding onto his cock because he would have creamed himself right then and there.

You throw your shorts and underwear to the side and he has to do everything in his power not to pick them up from the ground. You spread your legs out in front of him, and Sanji just knows that he's drooling.

“You can sniff the real deal instead. Since I’m so nice.”

Sanji whines lowly in disappoint in not being able to fuck you, and of course, your sharp ears catch onto it.

“What, you thought that I would ever let you fuck me with that nub you call a cock? Yeah fucking right.”

You sit in front of him with your arms crossed, evaluating him. Heat rises to his face under the intensity of the stare. Even though you could give two shits about him, Sanji was just happy that your full attention was on him for the first time since he joined the crew.

“Th-thank you for letting me sniff you,” Sanji moans, and he desperately crawls closer to you, one hand still pumping his cock.

When he reaches your bare pussy, a strangled cry leaves his throat as he takes a big whiff. Your scent is just like the one he’s used to from your panties, only a hundred times stronger. His cock is sensitive from the force of his strokes, and unspilled tears form in his eyes from the different areas of stimulation.

One of your feet comes up to kick him gently in his cock, and he arches himself into your touch despite the pain. “Look at you. So pathetic,” you coo mockingly, laughing cruelly at the way Sanji reaches to smell your pussy to get himself off. “Aren’t you?” you ask him, albeit very forcefully.

Sanji gulps and nods. “I-I am,” he stutters out. “I’m pathetic.” His hand picks up speed, his orgasm so close as you spit curses at him and talk about him like he's just an ugly speck of dirt on the ground.

His moans and whimpers become louder and louder as he fucks into his own hand, bury ing his face as close to your pussy as you allow. The last straw comes when you pull on his hair, digging your fingers through the tresses.

“Such a fucking sorry excuse for a man,” is all you need to say and Sanji explodes, a mess of whines as cum spurts out of his cock in jets. It’s all over his body, the floor, your foot, and even the side of your bed.

He doesn’t open his eyes until his orgasm fully washes over him, and he pants rapidly, chest heaving up and down.

You barely react to it, just sneer at him. “You got your spunk all over me, you filthy mutt.” You shake your foot in disgust, but Sanji’s cum is too thick, it stays attached to where it landed.

Instead, you hold out your foot to him. “Clean it up,” you command. “With your tongue.”

“Of course, madam,” Sanji utters as he obediently dives in. He licks and sucks wherever he needs to, and eats his own cum without you even needing to tell him.

He even bends down to the floor, licking at the wooden surface where his cum landed. The hum of approval from your lips as he cleans up his mess has his cock stirring back to life.

When you’re fully cleaned up, you put your skirt back on and go back to ignoring Sanji, as if this whole encounter never happened.

“Can we do this again, madam?” he asks hesitantly.

You don’t even turn to look at him. “No. Now give me back my panties.”

[mrsbarnesblog]

Hi girl ❤️ inhope it's ok to send in a request. i thought of something where the reader is working at the Avengers Compound and trains new agents, but one of them grows fond of her and like creeps up on her or follows her around all the time. Soon Bucky noticed that and decides to help. As the guy then again waits up on you and gets too close for Bucky's liking, he steps in between and kisses you passionately, making the creep leave and takes you by surprise. But what started as only some help, continues in Bucky's bedroom, revealing hidden feelings and passion 😏 i hope this is ok with you ❤️

we could've done it earlier

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: +18❗️creepy men, protective Bucky, smut, friends to lovers, idiots in love, dirty talk, unprotected sex

Author's note: well, that was fun to write. I hope you'll like it and that I saw the vision right. thank you for the request💘

You rolled your eyes again when you noticed that Kevin’s eyes stayed on your body for way too long. You had just finished another session of training with the new recruits from S.H.I.E.L.D. and everything was fine—most of them were really talented and eager to learn, but that one guy had acted super weird since the day Fury introduced you. 

He always gave you weird looks, tried to flirt with you during the training and you swore that he was following you around the tower because you “accidentally” bumped into him and ended up in the same room more times than you could count. 

You decided to forget about it for today and took a quick shower in the gym, and after changing your sweaty clothes, you went to the kitchen on Avenger’s floor to grab a snack. 

You didn’t even have time to look through the cupboards when you saw a figure in the corner of your eye walking towards you. 

“Mind some company?” Kevin stepped closer to you with that creepy smile on his face and scanned your body up and down once again.

“What are you doing here? It’s Avenger’s quarters; you shouldn’t be here.” You crossed your arms over your chest to hide from his stare. 

“Well, I thought they could make an exception for me, especially since my favorite trainer lives here.” He stepped closer and you instantly stepped back. Yes, you were one of the Avengers, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a man who clearly had bad intentions towards you, so your body and mind worked differently around him. “And I also thought we could do something together, if you know what I’m talking about.” 

“I don’t know what you are talking about, and I’m not interested in whatever you are suggesting. Please don’t overstep the line. I’m your trainer and nothing more.” You tried to talk firmly and confidently, even though your whole body was tensed from Kevin’s almost predatory stare. “I-I have a boyfriend. Don’t try to do anything.”

“You’re lying. I know that you want me. And I want you–” Kevin wanted to get closer to you, but a certain Super Soldier appeared out of nowhere, stood between you and him, and kissed you. 

Bucky was watching this whole scene from the beginning. He also saw how that guy was following you around and just staring at you shamelessly. 

Bucky had a crush on you since the day you met, but he didn’t try to change things between you, being too scared that you wouldn't ever talk to him again. At first, he thought that there were mutual feelings between you and Kevin because you were so sweet to everyone, but the more he paid attention, the more he noticed how uncomfortable you would get every time you spotted Kevin in the same room. 

So when Bucky saw him following you once again, and this time being even more persistent, he knew that he should save you. 

So he just stepped in and kissed you.

Was it stupid? Probably. Did he regret doing it? Not in the slightest way. 

Your whole body froze, and your mind was overloaded with the unknown feeling of Bucky’s lips and his hands on your face while he was slowly kissing you. He kissed you as if he had all the time in the world, and as if Kevin, who was clearly confused and angry, was not standing right behind him.

Bucky slightly pulled away, not letting go of your face, and looked back at Kevin. “Do you have a problem with my girlfriend?” His stare could scare anyone, and the way all the color washed away from Kevin’s made him feel weirdly satisfied.

He looked back at you, not missing how your pupils were dilated and your mouth was slightly open in shock, before he captured your lips in another kiss. Now it was not so sweet, though. Bucky was clearly dominating over you, biting your lip and then licking it with his tongue. 

You both didn’t notice how Kevin left. Too lost in each other’s touches, scents, and lips. It was addicting.

“I’m sorry for doing it without permission. Just wanted to scare him away from you.” Bucky mumbled against your lips, yet he didn’t move, not even an inch away from your body. Your eyes lowered to his lips, already craving to feel them again. And Bucky understood it straightaway. “Tell me to stop.” He knew that he was fucked up. Before, he was just observing you and trying to suppress his feelings, but now that he had finally touched and kissed you, he couldn’t hide it anymore. 

Your head was feeling fuzzy, while your hands were clenching onto Bucky’s shirt. You could barely understand what he was saying to you, but that familiar heat in your stomach appeared again, as it did every time he called you “doll” or smiled.

“Please don’t…” You whine, pulling him even closer. “I want you. I need you, Buck.” You kissed him this time, raising one hand to bury it in his fluffy and soft hair. Bucky moaned in your mouth when you slightly dragged your nails along his scalp. 

He gripped your waist with both of his hands and then let the metal one slide down to the back side of your thigh. Bucky mumbled a raspy “jump”, and you, without hesitation, followed his command, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

You both moaned when your clothed core met the hardness in his jeans. As if it were an instinct, you moved your hips, trying to do something to relieve that aching feeling in your body.

“Stop moving, or I’ll fuck you right in this kitchen, doll.” 

It was shameful how quickly you would’ve agreed to do that. 

After firmly settling you in place, Bucky went to his room without a struggle, carrying your weight and kissing the heated skin of your neck. As soon as the door was closed and you were gently placed on a perfectly made bed, you both became even more greedy for each other. 

Tugging clothes, pulling hair, and biting each other’s lips and skin. Bucky's firm body was pressing against yours, and you nearly drowned in the mattress. Bucky's cock became even harder when he finally got a good look at your face—half-closed eyes, smollen red lips, completely messed-up hair. You looked fucking majestic.

“You are so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Fuck, I wanted to do it for so long.” He said it harshly, trying to catch a breath. 

“Me too. Me too, Bucky… Oh God, it almost hurts.” You tried to move your lower body upwards to grind yourself on something, but Bucky just smirked at you and pinned you back to the bed. 

“Be patient and let me have my time with you, doll.”

“Not now, please. James. I need it. Just fuck me. We can do whatever you want later. ” You almost cried, your hands sliding under Bucky’s shirt and sending shudders down his back. Who was he to decline your request when you asked so nicely?

When he just slightly nodded to your words, you lifted up your arms, allowing Bucky to take off your oversized t-shirt. He almost choked on his saliva when he discovered that you were naked underneath it. 

“I love the twenty-first century.” Your laugh quickly turned into a moan when Bucky took one of your nipples into his mouth and pinched the other one with his fingers. The way he tried to be so gentle with his metal arm didn’t go unnoticed by you. He was always so careful not to hurt you in any possible way, but this felt much more intimate, deeper. 

After finally being satisfied with his work on your tits, Bucky trailed a way of kisses down to your leggings, slightly pushed the waistband down and teased you with his wet tongue, almost in the place where you wanted him the most. 

“Just take it off.” 

Bucky stood on his knees in between your legs and pulled down your pants and underwear, throwing them on the floor. “Dear fucking God. I’ll have my sweet time with her later.” He licked his lips, eyes glued to your wet folds. You just wined at his words, slightly pressing your legs together to exert some kind of pressure on your swollen clit. 

Bucky hesitated to take off his shirt. Being too lost in you, he almost forgot about his metal arm. But you were on his bed, naked, impatient, and only with lust written in your eyes. He knew you wouldn't judge him. 

Actually, you had never seen Bucky without clothes; only once did you catch him after the gym in the tightest possible t-shirt that revealed every little muscle on his chest and press. But holy shit, seeing him naked was shocking in the best possible way. His perfectly sculpted body, tanned skin, and slightly dingling silver dog tags made your mouth water with the need to kiss every centimeter of him. When your eyes shifted a little bit higher and caught the tormented skin on his shoulder, you felt nothing but sadness and pride for Bucky being so strong.

“You’re pretty.” The pink color spread to Bucky’s ears at your words. “And I want you all. Buck, you better hurry up and undress or I will have to handle this on my own." You slowly lowered your hand in between your legs to tease him and ease the tension in Bucky’s body, and you saw it working by the way his eyes were laser-focused on your actions.

“You’re playing with fire, doll.” He lowered his body on yours again, pushing away your hand, but instead pinned it above your head and kissed you. His free hand finally unbuckled his pants, and he did not bother taking them completely off—he just pushed them down slightly because he did not want to lose the sensation of being so close to you. “Oh fuuuck—” Bucky moaned as his cock touched your lower stomach and you could help but drag your eyes there. 

"There's no way you’re walking around with this…” You whispered in disbelief. 

“Mhm, you’ll get used to it.” He gave you a cocky smile. “Um, do you want me to find a condom? Fuck, I don’t have it.” The worry appeared in Bucky’s face and he looked around the room, as if the box could just magically appear somewhere. 

“No-no, Bucky, just fuck me. Please. I’m on birth control. I need you in me right now.” You were too desperate, wrapping your legs around his body and pushing him closer. The tip of his hard cock slipped across your pussy and you both hissed at the feeling. 

Bucky nodded more to himself and finally reached in between your bodies, gave himself a few pumps and started pushing inside of you. The stretch was almost painful, but at the same time, it was the best thing you had ever felt. 

He couldn’t hold it inside anymore. As soon as you took every inch of him, Bucky started moving in a steady rhythm. He lost himself in the way he fit so perfectly into you. He was fucking you without mercy. You gripped his shoulder with your free hand, while the non-stop moans escaped your mouth with every movement. Your body was jumping up and down on the bed; your eyes rolled back in pleasure and not a single thought flashed through your head. 

“So good for me. You’re taking me so well, doll. Just like that.” He was practically splitting you apart with his cock, but it seemed like you became even wetter with every second. If you weren’t too lost in pleasure, you would be ashamed of the way you made a total mess on his cock and thighs. 

Bucky, on the other hand, did not seem to mind; he kept pounding into you, sensing how you clenched tighter around him as you got closer to the orgasm. He freed your hand and grabbed your face so you would stay focused on his face. 

“Tell me how good you feel, baby. Your sweet juice is practically soaking my bed.” He said it without losing the speed of his thrusts or breaking eye contact. 

“So good– Bucky! Oh my fucking God.” You moaned through greated teeth, barely being able to keep your eyes open. 

“Are you going to cum, sweet girl? Gonna milk my cock?” His face got closer to yours, so your lips barely touched when his was talking. You wanted to cry, moan, scream, or do everything all at once when the pure bliss washed over you. “Ye-e-es, that’s it, baby. Take it all, fuck!” 

Bucky pushed his cock into your spasming pussy a few more times before he groanted somewhere near your ear and you felt the hot liquid covering your insides. You both were heavily breathing, clinging closer to each other. You felt too hot and sweaty; the feeling of Bucky’s heavy body covering your smaller form was so calming and safe. Bucky hummed into your neck when you wrapped your hands around his shoulders and lowered his flesh one to sofly trace the delicate skin of your thigh. 

“I can’t believe that we wasted so much time. We could’ve done it earlier.” Bucky rolled to his side, dragging you with him. He pushed your hair out of your face, and his hand stayed on your cheek for a few seconds while he was admiring you. 

“We’re idiots.” You giggled and bit your lip, looking at Bucky.

“We totally are. But I won’t let you go again.”

You were just staring at each other, smiling. It felt so natural to be in his arms, surrounded by his scent and warmth, as if it were supposed to have happened a long time ago. Bucky couldn’t help but move forward to capture your lips in another sweet kiss. 

Everything finally fell into place. 

[onyx-syn]

How LA! Buggy and LA! Mihawk would react to you wearing Lingerie Headcanons

Warnings: Spicy, Lingerie, Flirting, and Talks of sex

*Don't steal my writings and claim it as your own*

*18+ Only*

A/N: Okay okay okay- I know I keep dragging on the fics I've been working on due to work but it will be posted soon🥺❤️

Buggy

🌹He never expects you to wear lingerie as he himself has never expected to be with someone, especially in a committed relationship. Yes he would make a flirtatious/outward comment to those he was attracted to, but for the same attention to be directed towards him was unexpected to say the least

🌹How he would get annoyed at being flirted with even with the slightest bit of a comment would make him into an annoyed flustered, claiming aloud he wasn't but that wouldn't stop the smile from appearing on his lips

🌹so imagine his absolute delight surprise when his creek eyes were greeted by an amazing sight of his partner wearing a lingerie set

🌹Buggy would have a devilish smile plastered across his cheeks, giggling in a euphoric sense as he saw you enter your twos room wearing such a lewd outfit

- "Well, well, well~" Buggy spoke, his voice low as his eyes set on you, the 'beauty of the ball' he would call you to others. Your body in a beautiful delicate fabric of clothing, clenched to your skin, showing off so much yet so little. Buggy's body laid comfortable on the bed of your bedroom, sitting straight up as he gestured you to walk over. Once you walked over to him, the man -feared by many across the East Blue Sea- would be on his knees in front of you.

His gloved hands grasping at the skin of your thighs, moving up and down slowly, pinching lightly. He would be staring up right at you, taking in all the glory and beauty of you standing like a god/goddess in his presence. He spoke, his red stained lips pressing onto your exposed skin of your thighs or hips, kissing them.

"You're so beautiful doll, looking like a true performer for the show. My show~" He stated, his heart racing at a million miles per hour, almost couldn't stand seeing you in such a state as it brought a sensational feeling to him he never knew he needed to see.

"Trying to get me a private show now huh?~" As he continued to speak, his hands reached further up your sides, grazing your hips, feeling how the switch from your delicate skin to the sheer fabric of clothing and how tight it was against your skin. It was a small change, but oh boy did it do something to him.

People were afraid of a man, seeing the act he would put off in an open setting. Whenever we would perform a show, he was seen as a 'freak of nature', a danger to society which made people across the seas to fear him. Not just as a man, but as a pirate.

But here, here it was different.

Here in the privates and comforts of his quarters, he could enjoy the quiet piece of time and admire the beauty that he has which was you. If people were to see him now, begging for the touch of his lover, begging for him to touch and grasp at the skin concealed away from him, begging to love and appreciate how stunning you appeared in the clothing, they wouldn't believe it.

His breathing hitched, gulping as he struggled to remained composed. "Goddamn this outfit you got is gonna be the death of me sweetcheeks~"

🌹After his first greeting with the idea and concept of you wearing lingerie, he was in love with it. He loved to see you beautiful skin tightly clenched to the piece of clothing. His eyes being memorized how how your skin would pudge over clothing with how tight it was to your body, especially in your hip to thigh regions. He loved the way your body was framed from down below, wanting nothing more but to grasp and grope that certain area of yours

🌹Whenever he would go on his raids and pillaging of towns, he would sneakily steal sets and all different kinds of pairs of lingerie he could find. He put them in a special case of beg to know which ones he would give to his 'freaks' and which ones he would give to his 'freakshow~' He would also purposely steal the ones he knows you would enjoy and feel the most comfortable wearing. Yes he was a cruel man that destroyed many towns, but he had deep care and love for what his beloved would wear in bed alright?

🌹He will have you perform little catwalks for him in your bedroom, putting on a little show for you two to witness as you would try on each pair of lingerie he stole for you, both of you critiquing each one. Buggy more so as in a sense of which ones would be the most easiest to rip off of you and fuck you, and which ones he wanted you to wear longer as you rode him

🌹He has so many favorites he loves to see you in its hard to pick. But if he had to choose, his favorite set of lingerie that he loved to see doused over you figure is babydolls with suspender belts, while yes, did conceal your body away in a flowly form, was still see through so he could see your bare skin. Watching you twirl around in the short dress of a lingerie, watching it flow in the wind, lifting up just enough for your hips and ass to be exposed to him brought an immense sense of joy to him you wouldn't believe, as well as how tight the belts clenched to your thighs and legs, he loved it all

Mihawk

🌹Mihawk, as well as Buggy, never expected or really saw himself to be in a relationship. With his line of work, he would much rather prefer having quick stands or dated than committing. Yet, here he was with you, and behind the 'act' he would put on -as you would call it- he truly loved you with everything his heart could give

🌹Sometimes it was difficult to truly know what his expression would be sometimes, most of the time he was serious or had somewhat of a nonchalant look to him

🌹but the moment you appeared with your body graced with the fabric and figure of a lingerie set into your bedroom together, his eyes were all on you

🌹At first, you couldn't tell what his expression exactly was, his face seamlessly being unaffected by it, yet his eyes told a different story. The golden orbs of his siren eyes were swirling in a bit of lust and hunger. A ravenish feeling of wanting to tear the article of clothing off your body and fuck you senselessly

-Mihawk's golden eyes stared as you walked into the bedroom, a piece of lewd fabric covering your once exposed skin off from him. A visible emotion of curiosity emitted from your aura, worried about what his reaction would be at your new article of clothing, seeing as he has said nothing or moved from his spot since you walked in, only staring.

As the moment between you two fell into a thick pit of silence in the air, you could see the look in Mihawk's eyes become more... Hungry. His eyes glaring deep into you, you could feel the emotion he was giving you, feeling as if his eyes were tearing off each inch of stitched fabric off of your body, seeing you fully exposed to him.

But, another side of him loved the way your body wore the lingerie, seeing as it clenched onto your body nicely for him to witness for his eyes only. He sat back against his seat in the corner of the room, near his desk, his finger tips were collapsed together in his lap before he raised one hand up, gesturing with one finger for you to come over to him. Now.

When you strutted over, noticing how Mihawk's eyes were glued to the way your hips swayed in the outfit. He made you stop right before him. Your eyes watched as he moved his weight in the chair, seeing the formation of a bulge in his trousers. He made no noise, however, keeping a contained composure as he ordered you to turn around for him with just a twirl of his finger.

You did so, slowly twirling around, showing off the lingerie in its full glory right in front of you. You stopped back into place as you started before, waiting for Mihawk to speak to you. Instead, he didn't say anything, his golden orbs looked you up and down slowly again. You feel back into another pit of silence until-

"Marvelous~" He spoke, underneath his breath but loud enough for you to hear.

He sat up from his chair, standing in front of you. His colossal hands trailing down the sides of your body, feeling the fabric and what skin was left exposed before he griped your one leg and moved it upwards against his hip/waist, his hand underneath your thigh gripping it tightly.

"Absolutely marvelous, my darling~"

🌹Mihawk is a classy, yet naughty man, underneath all the serious attitude he had put on for his work and life style. He adored the way your body would wear the lewd pieces of clothing, loving every second the way your body moved across the room just for him to watch and admire

🌹Mihawk was and still is a mysterious man, whenever he would be away on 'trips' or so you call them for the vice admiral, you would awaken to a box or two with special engravings with your name and patterns on them. When you opened them up, your eyes would be greeted with the sight of different sets and pairs of lingerie. You felt the heat and intensity rise from your neck to your cheeks once you realized these weren't just any ordinary lingerie either, they were quiet expensive

🌹He loved how much the lingerie would make your figure be more prominent, showing all your perfections cause in his mind you had no imperfections, everyone's body had their own flaws, but no matter what you were beautiful just the way you were. He wanted to see all your flaws, and seeing them in such a sinful piece of clothing sent excitement down to his groins. He would have you show off the new set of lingerie in all angels, front, back etc, by making you sit on his thighs/lap and show him yourself~

🌹Unlike Buggy, Mihawk actually does have a favorite. But His favorite article of lingerie of you to wear is basque/corset ones with the thin belts attached to the hip down to mid thigh drew him nuts. He was memorized with the way it constricted your body, along with the beautiful fabric markings it had along the sheer sides of it. He admire the conceal mystery, how some of your body was exposed through the shear fabric while the other half wasn't. Only gives him more of a reason to take it off of you and rail you, well, depends on the night, sometimes he would fuck you with it on

[robertreich]

Think Tipping Is Out of Control? Watch This.

TWO DOLLARS AND THIRTEEN CENTS AN HOUR.

That’s how much millions of American workers are paid under the federal subminimum wage — which was set all the way back in 1991.

While many think tipping for services has gotten out of control, arguing over who deserves a tip and how much they should get distracts from what we should really be angry about: business models that depend on not paying workers a living wage.

It’s bad enough that the federal minimum wage is a measly $7.25 an hour. But employers are allowed to pay tipped workers just $2.13 an hour because supposedly the workers will be able to make up for it in tips.

Saru Jayaraman of One Fair Wage has been advocating to change this absurd and exploitative law. I asked her to share with us FOUR big reasons why we need to get rid of the subminimum wage and pay service workers a full living wage with tips on top.

Number 1: Workers who earn a subminimum wage often end up making less than the minimum wage

43 states currently allow certain workers to be paid a subminimum wage. Employers in these states are legally required to make up the difference if a worker’s combined wage and tips don’t reach the full minimum wage. But over a third of tipped workers report that their bosses regularly fail to do this.

That’s because enforcement of wage laws is lax, and it makes it easier for employers to get away with shortchanging staff.

Number 2: The subminimum wage perpetuates gender discrimination and harassment on the job

More than two-thirds of tipped workers — 70% — in the U.S. are women. And one in six women that work a tipped job are living in poverty — that’s nearly 2.5 times the rate for workers overall.

Since workers earning the subminimum wage are so dependent on tips to make a living, they are put in situations where they have to tolerate inappropriate customer behavior. A staggering 76 percent — that’s more than three-quarters of tipped workers — have reported experiencing sexual harassment on the job. And that only got worse during the pandemic.

Number 3: Tipping is actually a relic of slavery

Tipped workers are disproportionately people of color. And Black service workers in particular consistently earn less, including tips, than their white counterparts for doing the same job.

Look, this inequity of the subminimum wage is tied to America’s history of structural racism.

Following the Civil War, tipping was used as a racist solution by employers who didn’t want to pay formerly enslaved Black workers. So by allowing them to pay their workers just in tips rather than a wage, employers were able to avoid directly paying these workers.

Number 4: Paying workers a living wage plus tips is actually better for business — and our economy.

Corporate lobbyists, particularly for the restaurant industry, warn that paying workers a full minimum wage with tips on top will be devastating to businesses. But research shows these fears are completely overblown.

So far, seven states have replaced their subminimum wage for tipped workers with a higher minimum wage that still allows for tips on top. These seven states are actually faring better than the 43 states with subminimum wages for tipped workers — both in the number of restaurants and number of people employed by restaurants. And take home pay for restaurant servers and bartenders in these states was 24% higher than in states with a wage of just $2.13 an hour.

Workers at restaurants that have scrapped their subminimum wages in favor of higher minimum wages with tips on top are more productive, happier, and less likely to quit their jobs. This alone helps business owners cut employee turnover nearly in half. This is especially important following the pandemic, when restaurants are facing historic staffing shortages because over 1 million workers have left the industry due to low pay.

So not only have higher wage states been able to maintain their industries, but workers are more productive, getting paid more, and less likely to live in poverty.  

And when workers have more money, they spend more money — stimulating their local economies in the process.

And for the first time in 30 years, workers are winning on this issue, like in DC and Chicago and a dozen other states.

The bottom line is that ending the subminimum wage for tipped workers is better for workers, it’s better for business, it’s better for our economy — and it’s the right thing to do.

[sspextkr]

crave - avox!coryo x rich!reader┊ao3 ┊masterlist

instead of being sent off as a peacekeeper as punishment for cheating, coriolanus got his tongue lopped off and was sold as an avox. your family bought him, not knowing your history, and you can't help but feel bad for him.

a/n: hhh i love this au might make a longer fic out of it,,,

word count: 1.2k

trigger warnings: little bit of angst

No one had heard a word from the boy since his tribute won the Hunger Games- He vanished just as she did. Did something happen? He wasn't there at graduation, nor was he there for the after-party. The party made sense, but the big graduation ceremony, where the announcement of who got the Plinth Prize took place? That was unheard of. To everyone's surprise, the prize money was distributed evenly between the top remaining students. How nice?

You and Coriolanus had a certain.. History. You could be seen as rivals, but there was a lot of underlying tension that said otherwise- And a certain drunken incident behind a club a year back. That was in the past, though. Neither of you mentioned it, no badly how much you wanted to.

Still, your mind couldn't help but wonder. He wouldn't miss something as big as this unless something happened..

It still felt off to you, but you brushed it off and decided to call it an early evening, already feeling tipsy from the posca you had consumed earlier. Your mansion was surprisingly bustling when you arrived home, Avox’s raising up and down the stairs. That was odd. Normally, it was only ever this busy when you had company, and you weren't aware of anyone coming over. Surprise change of plans?

“Mother?” You called out, slipping off your coat and hanging it up.

“Ah! There you are, darling.” Your mother entered the foyer, wearing her iconic bright smile. “Sorry about all of the.. Commotion.” She gestures to the tongueless servants running up and down the stairs with a hint of disgust. “We're getting your graduation present in order.”

“Aw.. Mom, you didn't have to do that.” You smile, and she pulls you into a hug.

“Nonsense, darling.” She pats your shoulder as she pulls away. “You've done so well, worked so hard.. It's the least we can do. You just go rest now. We'll take care of everything.” She kissed your cheek before dismissing you.

You wove your way between a few servants before finding yourself in your room, and you drift off to sleep nearly the second your head hit the pillow.

***

A few days later, your gift was ready. After a lush breakfast, your mother took your hand and led you to the servants quarters- Where the maids and Avox’s resided. 

“Mother? What are we doing down here?”

“You'll see.” She said in a sing-song voice, leading you down an unfamiliar hallway. The chemical-y smell in the air gave away that it must be new. She paused in front of the door and turned towards you again.

“You're starting to truly become your own person, and that's a lot to handle on your own. Yes, you have help around the house, but… You need something a bit more personal. Someone who caters to your needs and your needs only, so..” She trailed off, grabbing the door knob and pushing the door open.

“Surprise!”

Oh, what a surprise indeed.

A boy sat hunched in the corner, shackled to the wall by his ankles with his knees pulled up to his chest. The light from a window on the wall opposite of him highlighted his blond curls and sharp features. Was he more than skin and bone at this point?

You took a step closer, only to find yourself face to face with him.

Coriolanus Snow.

“.. Oh my God.”

Your breakfast threatened to reappear.

Coriolanus’ head snapped up, and you got a better look at him. Sunken eyes, hollow cheekbones, chapped lips.. What had they done to the poor boy?

You were never a big fan of him to begin with, but.. This was just wrong. You took a hesitant step forward, and the boy flinched, cowering like a wounded animal.

“I'll leave you two to talk.” Your mother said a bit too cheerfully before leaving. How was everyone so okay with this?!

You kneeled in front of Coriolanus, watching the way his jaw tensed. “.. What the hell did they do to you?”

His chapped lips parted for a moment, like he was about to say something, but they quickly closed again. Oh, right, he can't say anything. The boy would live the rest of his life in silence.

You swallowed down the bile rising in your throat, turning your attention to the shackles around his ankles. The cuffs were far too tight and restrictive, leaving bright blue and purple splotches against his pale skin. There were a few marks around his wrists, implying further restriction, but they must've been removed earlier.

"Those look bad.” You muttered, reaching out to touch one of the bruises without even thinking about it. Coriolanus yanked his arm away from you, eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Sorry..”

You backed a step up before looking around in search of something to free hum. Nothing. Damn it. Your gaze traveled back to the blond. “.. I bet you're hungry, huh?”

He nodded after a moment, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed awkwardly. Was it always that prominent? “How does some broth sound?”

A flash of life returned to his eyes for a second, extinguished by the reality of the situation. It nearly made your heart flutter.

You smiled softly. “Yeah? Alright.. Just give me a moment..”

***

You returned around 10-15 minutes later with your very own ‘Avox-Care-Kit’, complete with water, broth, a blanket, and general first aid. You still couldn't find the damn keys to his shackles. 

Coriolanus almost looked relieved when you stepped back into the room, looking up at you like a puppy begging for food. How adorable.. Almost. It's a sick thought, but when he couldn't speak, he was almost bearable.

You draped the knitted blanket around his shoulders before setting the bowl of broth and water down in front of him. “I don't know how you are with solids yet.. We'll start small.”

Coriolanus mouthed a small ‘thank you’ before picking up the bowl with shaky hands and taking a sip. You watched as he swallowed, his face shifting into an expression of discomfort. He'd have to relearn how to eat.

The discomfort seemed to be somewhat tolerable as he downed the entire thing fairly quickly. The boy had never been that buff to begin with, but you'd certainly remember if he was this thin.

“.. So, uhm.. Can I ask you something? Or at least try?” Coriolanus nodded, looking puzzled. “Uhm.. Okay, how about..” You pulled out a sketchpad and pencil from your care-kit. Good idea, right? Until you found another way. You handed it to him.

“Okay.. What the hell did you do to end up as an Avox?” He cringed at the question, picking up the pencil and staring down at it in disdain before writing a sloppy answer and passing it back to you-

“Cheated. Don't ask.”

“Cheated..” You clicked your tongue. “Ah. Guess Highbottom wasn't kidding when he said cheaters wouldn't have a future, huh?” You joked. Coriolanus shot you a glare. Clearly, he didn't appreciate that. “.. Sorry.”

You cleared your throat awkwardly before standing back up. “I should probably go, uhm.. I have homework, and you need to rest.”

Coriolanus’ eyes widened a little, his brows creased with displeasure. He looked upset to see you go. In what world did Coriolanus Snow want you to stay by his side? The boy despised you.

Then again, this wasn't the same boy from the Academy. That playfully sinister glint in his eye was gone. This.. Was Coriolanus in his most vulnerable state. One where he couldn't say no. One where he had to listen. The tables had turned, for once.

Maybe you'd have to take advantage of that in the future.

[extrajigs]

The MODERN MIRAN SCRIPT. Basically the continuation of the old school Chimeric that I covered in this post. That has most of the nitty gritty and this is more so about the branch of the language. The BIG info dump below the cut!

Chimeric is the original, a purely written language used by chimera when talking is unavailable. Written in a circle heading inwards with two defined lines of dialogue. The subject/action 'real' substance and the tonal, emotional intent of the writer and sometimes reader. Chimeric is still used by the remaining population to talk within their ranks, but nearly every chimera is at least bilingual depending on where they ended up. Back in Mirum the written language of Chimeric stayed behind but has been pretty heavily modified to better suit the reading style of the people that remained. Mainly Histin who cut out pretty much all the fluff and added a bit more structure.

So! As opposed to the radial style of Chimeric, Miran has double decker sentences. With the top row being the remnants of the Subject quarter and the bottom row being the Action quarter. Linkage of subjects and actions take place between the two lines. Plus there is a new form of linkage, the priority/influence links which show which subject is acting upon who, and define action sequences. While Chimeric is written inwards radially, Miran is written top to bottom, starting going from left to right then right to left and alternating down the page. Also circular paper is swapped for rectangular, think a standard 8x10. Still, you are expected to enclose sentences within two parentheses, lil hold over from the circular days. But to the outside perspective the largest difference between the two is their tones, or well overtonage of one and lack of tone in the other. Chimeric is the 3 paragraph overly detailed text, Miran is the single word response. Lest to say they do not mesh super well.

ANOTHER fun hold over I want to add but am still thinking over characters for is that for rare fancy words (poetry/music/heart speak) Miran can slide in a THIRD ROW in between the first and second. There the spoken tone quarter manages to eek out a meager Miran existence through a few dozen sets of characters to convey certain emotions and the like. Songs in Miran very often have multiple sets of lyrics overlaid in this fashion, the largest can have 5+ tonal rows.

Oh that reminds me! Miran DOES have a spoken equivalent. Or rather, the original shared Histin/Diagrevies language has been stretched over to fit better with the written word. That in itself has split the spoken word in Mirum in two once more, with spoken Miran and Draconic being the two main talkings. Histin typically only speak and read Miran, whilst Diagrevies will speak both; with their preference being draconic. A Diagrevies will typically have a Histin under their employ to read and write for them since ya know, they cannot see.

All this taken into consideration though, Miran and Chimeric are still basically two ways of writing the same basal language. Not that modern speakers like to admit that. But small character additions and style changes aside, if you can read one you can get the gist of the other. Miran is by far the most spoken in modern times tho. Its a little more accessible for different species than Chimeric.

Want to get more into the modern Mirum dealings. The chimera may be absent but their influence is still very plain to see if you know where to look.

[standfucker]

Reacting to Your SH Scars - Monster Trio, Law, Kid, Killer

CW for SH, obviously. GN reader in all except Sanji’s somewhat implies a fem reader. Reader is short but it only comes up in Zoro's and Kid's sections. No established relationship, but implied feelings between everyone and the reader.

Ao3 link

Luffy

You had to wait forever for the others to finish dressing and leave the shared quarters so you could change as well, not wanting them to see your scars. You always had some excuse as to why you lagged behind, and they didn’t question it.

Your captain was less patient, however.

"Y/n! You done yet? Come on, let's go!" You hear him shout from outside the door.  You’re about to reply when the rubber man bursts into the room without warning.

You’re decent enough, having already donned shorts and a tank top, but you haven’t pulled your long sleeve shirt on yet, your scarred and cut arms plainly visible. You go rigid as his gaze falls to them.

Luffy doesn’t say anything, and you hastily pull on your shirt, but it’s too late.

“Sorry… I’m ready,” you mumble awkwardly.

Luffy still doesn’t speak. You don’t think he realizes what it is, that he doesn’t understand what he saw. That he’s naive.

So it takes you by surprise when he says softly, “Ace used to do that.”

“Ah…” You fidget with your hands, unsure of how to respond.

“But he got better.” Luffy stretches an arm across the room to wrap around your shoulders and pulls you off your feet, making you yelp as he reels you into a side hug. “You will, too. I know it.”

You weren’t going to say anything. You’re generally good at keeping your thoughts to yourself. But he sounds so certain, and you can’t help it, bitter pessimism flaring up like it always does. This time, it slips out. “What makes you so sure?”

Luffy blinks at you, entirely unphased. “I believe in you!” He says, and smiles like the sun, that bright and shining grin he always has that shows his genuine care and delight.

It catches you off guard. So much so that even though it’s been years since you’ve cried, you have to bite your tongue right then to keep yourself from tearing up. You want to believe him so badly.

“I… I see,” you manage to say. “Thanks, Captain.”

Luffy turns to walk out the room, pulling you along by the hand. He pauses before either of you exit, though, turning to face you again.

“Luffy?” You question, but a second later he’s leaped onto you, wrapping his stretched-out body around you multiple times, in a total, enveloping hug that only he can give.

He giggles, and despite everything, despite all the years of suffering and bad thoughts and hurting for no good reason, you find yourself laughing too.

Sticking around is worth it, you think, if you get to be with him and the crew.

Zoro

You and Zoro insult each other. Not in the way that he argues with Sanji–your dynamic is all teasing, neither of you ever serious in your ribbing.

“Keep up, Cyclops,” you taunt after you dispatch an enemy before he does. “I thought you trained with Mihawk?”

“How about you worry less about my speed, and more about what the adults are keeping on top of the fridge, Pipsqueak,” he shoots back with a grin.

And so it goes, until the time you’re hanging out with him on the ship. He’s spilled some of his sake, and the match you used to light your cigarette drops right into it, igniting the small puddle. You pull off your jacket in a panic and quickly smother the fire.

Zoro finally understands why you’ve never taken off your jacket in front of anyone, eyeing the scars and cuts that run up both arms.

He doesn’t comment on it. But from then on, he stops trading friendly insults, no longer responding when you call him stupid names or make fun of him for getting lost.

It messes with you, it makes you feel worse. You want him to treat you like he used to, desperately missing the banter.

You don’t know how to bring it up. You certainly won’t do it when the others are around. But finally you can’t stand it anymore, and you approach him one day when he’s exercising, the two of you alone on the bow of the ship.

“Why?” You ask, and he tilts his head at you in question. “You don’t talk back to me anymore. Ever since you saw me without my jacket. Why, Zoro?”

Zoro doesn’t stop his reps, glancing at you while he curls a massive weight. “Does it matter?”

“Yes!” You pause and lower your voice. “It matters to me. I feel like… I mean…” It’s so hard to be candid in front of him when he’s so stoic. You suck in a nervous breath. “Are we not friends anymore?”

Zoro’s eyes widen. “Of course we are.”

“Then what is it?” You try to keep from sounding as upset as you feel, but maybe you don’t do a very good job, because Zoro stops and sets down the weight to give you his full attention.

He looks at you carefully, as if deciding how to phrase his thoughts. He’s not usually one to think before he speaks, but he does so this time.

“It’s not because I don’t like you,” he starts, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just… I can’t do it. I keep thinking, ‘what if I’m the cause one time?’ What if you do it because of me?”

“Oh,” you say quietly, then speak up, “oh, no. No! Zoro. It could never be you. Never.”

He doesn’t look convinced, so you keep going.

“You could never hurt me like that,” you admit sheepishly. “Not you. I’m only ever happy when we’re hanging out.”

“Not happy enough,” he mutters, his gaze settling onto your arm–first the left, then the right, remembering what he saw.

The words pierce you like one of his swords, and you feel yourself choke on nothing. “No,” you agree. “I guess not.

Zoro picks up a towel to wipe the sweat from his face before he approaches you. “Y/n. Is there anything I can do?”

You gape at him, not expecting the words, and certainly not expecting him to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“Anything at all,” he repeats. “I don’t want you feeling like that.”

You look down. You’ve been ill for so long, you don’t know if you’ll ever stop feeling that way. But… “Treat me like you used to,” you request. “Like I’m not fragile. I need to be treated like a normal person. I need to feel normal.”

Because if someone treated you like you were as sick as you really were, you think you’d throw yourself overboard. You’re not ready to confront that reality. Maybe you never will be. ‘I’m fine’ was your mantra, even when you were not. Especially when you were not.

Zoro nods. “I’ll try,” he says. “But can’t you talk to someone? I mean, no one else knows, right?”

“No one else knows,” you confirm. “And… Well, would you talk to anyone? Have you ever brought up anything that personal to anyone else?”

Zoro opens his mouth to reply, but when he says nothing, you know you got him.

“See?” You press. “It’s not that simple.”

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue, lowering his hand from your shoulder. “Shit. Alright, I get it. Damn it…”

“No need to curse about it. It’s not that big a deal.”

Zoro looks at you so sharply you flinch. “Yes it is? Are you crazy?”

You grimace. “I mean, probably? Given the whole, uh,” you raise your arms, “you know.”

He doesn’t laugh, but you weren’t expecting him to. You weren’t really joking, anyway.

“Sorry,” you say, “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to see it. I don’t want you to worry.”

Zoro looks at you again, and you can’t figure out his expression. “...I’m glad I saw,” he says after a moment.

“Uh,” you reply dumbly, caught off guard, “you are?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t elaborate.

You want to ask why, but you don’t, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Surprisingly, it’s Zoro who breaks the silence first.

“You’re really happy when we hang out?” He asks, face still frustratingly neutral.

“Well, yeah. You’re my favorite,” you say without thinking, then stop and cover your face in embarrassment once your brain catches up. “Fuck.”

Zoro’s eyes widen, and then a smirk stretches across his face. “No need to curse about it.”

Your cheeks get hot, but you’re also flooded with relief, because he’s teasing you again. Maybe everything will be okay after all.

“Shut up,” you grumble. “Forget I said anything.”

Zoro reaches out and ruffles your hair, making you squawk and attempt to smack his arm away. He’s far too strong for you to move him, though.

“I’m going to finish training, and then I’ll come hang with you,” he says. “Though you can wait here if you want.”

You decide to join Zoro, exercising alongside him (with normal sized weights, thank you very much.) He clears his throat once you’ve worked up a sweat.

“You can take off your jacket, you know,” he says. “If you want. I’ve already seen your arms, so…”

You’re not really sure how comfortable you are with that, but it’s hot enough out that you relent, shrugging off your jacket. To his credit, Zoro doesn’t stare.

You thought it would be more awkward, but to your surprise, having your scars exposed without any judgment makes you feel normal. It’s almost euphoric. You smile to yourself, putting a little more effort into your workout.

The two of you drink together afterward, falling back into your routine of affectionate taunting. It’s like nothing has changed, or so you thought.

By the end of the following week, you realize telling Zoro that you felt better with him around might have been a mistake, because he almost never leaves you alone anymore. When the others are around, he doesn’t do anything differently. But he has a sixth sense for when you’re by yourself, appearing by your side right when you seem to need it. He even shows up when you wake up in the middle of the night and go to sit at the bow of the boat. It’s eerie.

You tell him he doesn’t have to do that, and he just shrugs it off. “I like being around you, so it’s fine,” he says casually, like the words don’t spear you through the heart.

The idiot. But you can’t really complain.

Sanji

It took you a while to get used to how touchy Sanji is. Hugs, pats on the shoulder, touches to your arm or side, even holding your hand sometimes–he never holds back.

You’re a bit touch-starved, so you don’t mind. So long as it never becomes inappropriate, you’re alright with it.

Sanji lets you help in the kitchen sometimes. He was reluctant at first, but you told him you needed something to do, needed to keep your hands busy. You didn’t tell him why. But he conceded, giving you simple tasks to complete.

Your sleeve gets dirty while you’re cutting fruit one evening. Sanji glances at it, damp with pineapple juice, and steps over to you, tutting.

“I know you don’t like taking off your jacket, but why don’t you at least roll up your sleeves?” He asks, and before you can respond, he’s reaching for your arm and pulling back the sleeve himself.

The moment he sees the cuts, he yanks his hand away like he’s been burned. Your freeze, throat going dry, unable to do anything but stare at him in shock.

He’s staring back. The two of you just stare at each other for a dumb minute. Fear crawls through your veins and twists up your heart. No one in the crew knew about your issue until then, and you have no idea what he’ll think of you. The anxiety makes you want to vomit. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Um,” you say, and it comes out much higher pitched than it’s supposed to.

“Y/n,” Sanji says quietly. “Who did that to you?”

You don’t know why he’s asking, because you think the answer is obvious. Those are clearly not battle scars. You’re pretty sure he knows, too. Maybe it’s just hard for him to believe–you do an excellent job masking, after all. Sharing that kind of thing got you in trouble in the past, so you only ever appear happy in front of other people, laughing and cracking jokes like you’re not crumbling inside. To any outsider, you’d seem like the most easygoing crewmate in the Straw Hats.

You set down the knife. “Uh… I did?”

His expression slowly morphs from shock into sadness, a frown etched into his features.

“Hey, no,” you say quickly, “don’t–don’t look at me like that. It’s okay, really.”

“But–” he starts to say, pausing when he sees the slight tremble in your form. You can’t help it–past experience tells you you’re about to get yelled at.

“I’m okay,” you say, as much to yourself as to him. “Everything is fine. So don’t…”

Sanji looks at you helplessly. “But… Why?”

You’re glad he’s not yelling at you, but somehow, that look is almost worse. You don’t want to be screamed at again, but you also don’t want him to feel bad for you, either. You do enough of that on your own.

“I don’t really have a good answer for that,” you swallow.

“Nothing at all?” He practically whispers.

You get it. Not having an explanation for something so drastic is probably stressful for him. You shrug, turning back to the pineapple you were slicing to finish what you started, unable to both bare your truth and look at him at the same time.

“Sometimes I do it because I need to hurt on the outside as much as I’m hurting on the inside,” you confess. “Sometimes I do it because I’m so numb that I want to feel something. Sometimes I do it because I can’t sleep. And sometimes, I do it just because I deserve it, I guess.”

When he doesn’t respond, you glance at him cautiously, breath catching when you see his somber expression. “Sanji… I told you not to look at me like that–”

Sanji wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. Normally you’d lean into it, but this time, you tense up. “Oi, be careful! I’m holding a sharp knife, here.”

“Y/n,” he says, ignoring your comment. “You don’t deserve it. I don’t know why you think you do, but you absolutely don’t.”

A lifetime of illness isn’t going to change from a single affirmation. You don’t agree with him, but you can appreciate the sentiment. It feels good to hear, at least.

“Thanks,” you sigh, setting down the knife but remaining tense. “I, uh. I’m grateful that you care…”

“It’s not just me,” Sanji says. “Anyone on this crew would say the same thing.”

“I’ve never doubted that,” you say. It’s not enough to stop your unfortunate coping method–you think all the love in the world couldn’t hold you back–but it’s still nice to know. You finally relax into his embrace, and he squeezes a little tighter.

Sanji pulls away a while later, and you’re startled to see him tearing up. “Sanji! Stop, you don’t–it’s fine! Please, stop!”

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he says, “I had no idea you were hurting. I can’t call myself a man…”

“Shut up! Of course you didn’t know. I put so much energy into hiding it.”

Sanji grabs your arms. “Then don’t. At least, not around me. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

You bite your lip. “But…”

“But what, love?”

“You don’t think I’m weak?” You blurt out before you can help yourself, unintentionally revealing one of your deep-seated fears.

You never thought you’d be admitting any of the stuff you’ve told him in the past minute, but here you are. Something about the cook just draws it out of you.

“Oh, Y/n. Of course not.”

You look at him like you don’t believe him.

“You’re hurting that much, and you’re still with us,” Sanji says softly. “I think that makes you strong, more than anything.”

His look of genuine sincerity makes your lower lip tremble for a moment, but you squash down your feelings before you completely lose control.

“Okay,” you say shakily. “Thank you, Sanji.”

You ask him to keep your issue secret, which he promises on his honor to uphold.

The next time the two of you are alone, he asks you how you’re doing.

“Great,” you chirp automatically, smiling on reflex, before you pause, remembering what he told you that one night. You don’t have to hide it from me. “...Actually, uh… I don’t really feel all that good.”

“You want to talk about it?” Sanji offers.

“Not really.”

“You want a hug?”

“...Yeah.”

Sanji embraces you, tight and warm, and this time, you let yourself cry just a bit.

Law

Law sees them when he’s inspecting an injury you received in the Heart Pirates’ latest scuffle. You’ve managed to avoid it for so long, but eventually you have to take off your shirt in front of him, revealing your shoulder, and what you’ve done to it.

Law looks at you in a way he never has before, in a way that is hard to describe. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. His stoic frown seems to deepen.

“It’s fine,” you say. “It’s been years. I don’t do that anymore.”

The frown turns to an expression of incredulousness. “Have you forgotten I’m a doctor?” You wince as he continues, “I know what a recent wound looks like. By the look of it, your newest cut was… twelve days ago.”

You’re shocked that he pinned the exact day. You gape at him for a moment before muttering, “I wouldn't call it a wound.”

You think the comment pisses him off, because he looks more than a little angry with you. “I can’t believe you just lied to my face.”

Oh. That’s what it was. You look away as guilt creeps in, unable to meet his eye. “I’m sorry, Captain. I just didn’t want to concern you with my problems.”

“I…” He pauses. “ I can’t… this was happening underneath my nose...”

You huff at the phrasing, not quite able to laugh at that moment. “No more ‘underneath your nose’ than any of the crew masturbating. It’s a private thing I do to relieve stress.”

“It’s not the same,” Law snaps.

Like you don’t know that. You know. You know it’s wrong. You don’t say anything. Law looks even more upset.

Then, he says, “I can hardly call myself a captain. All these years, and I had no idea you were hurting so much.”

You realize he’s mad at himself. You balk. “I’m… I’m not hurting.”

“Y/n, you cut yourself.”

For some reason, him saying it out loud makes it worse, your stomach churning as your mouth gets dry.

Silence hangs in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, you say softly, “I’m sorry.”

The anger in his face drops for a moment. “Don’t apologize.”

Another awkward silence.

“What now?” You ask, afraid of the answer but unable to tolerate any more quiet.

Law’s expression softens. “From now on, you come talk to me when you’re not feeling well. That’s an order.”

“No. If I did that, I would be bothering you every day,” you argue.

“That’s fine.”

You frown. “But you’re not that type of doctor.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I will be. For you.”

For you. Your jaw drops slightly in disbelief. You knew he cared, but that… That was more than you felt you deserved.

“I don’t want to worry you,” you say weakly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Please.” Law takes your hand in both of his, looking at you intensely. “Please talk to me. Don’t bottle it up like this.”

You stare at him in disbelief, because you’ve never heard Law beg for anything. It’s all overwhelming–him seeing this awful part of you, him caring so much he says that, the warmth of his hands around yours. “Captain…” You close your eyes for a moment to lessen the stimulation of the surrounding world. “Okay.”

“Promise me.”

You look down at his hands holding yours, then up at him. “I promise. Next time, I’ll talk to you.” Then you look away again, because if you see him looking at you like that any longer, you think you might cry. And it’s been ages since you’ve last cried.

Law squeezes your hand, and the dam almost breaks. But you manage, barely, to stay composed.

You keep your promise, seeking him out as soon as the following day. You warned him it would be frequent, and when you approach him it’s with a feeling of guilt. But he reassures you, and he listens, just like he said he would.

Kid

Kid sees after he gets injured. The cut won’t stop bleeding, so you reluctantly take off one of your arm warmers to use as a tourniquet until you make it back to the ship.

Kid does a double take at your exposed arm. You feel your cheeks get hot, but say nothing while you finish tying the cloth tight.

After you finish, you step back to give him space, but Kid grabs your wrist, extending your arm so he can better look at it.

“Hey!” You protest, trying to pull away, but even in his non-metal hand, his grip is like iron. He doesn’t budge, openly staring at the scars and cuts.

“Kid!” You hiss, and he looks at you sharply for not calling him ‘Captain,’ “let go of me. And stop staring, damn it.”

He lets go. You pull your arm to your chest protectively. The two of you walk in silence, but you notice Kid won’t stop glaring at you.

“You got something to say?” You ask harshly, not meaning to snap but too nervous to speak calmly.

“Yeah, I do,” Kid bites back with equal pissiness. “Never do that shit again on my ship.”

The breath catches in your throat. “I can’t,” you admit before you can stop yourself.

“What was that?” He stops walking, turning to face you.

You stop too, tensing under the intensity of his full scrutiny. “...I can’t stop. I keep trying to quit, but… I have a bad day and I crave it, like a cigarette.”

Kid’s frown shows teeth. You feel yourself wither, but the admission keeps going, tumbling out of your mouth like a boulder rolling down a hill, unstoppable. “I won’t lie to you. It’s probably going to happen again. If that’s unacceptable, then I guess… I guess I have to leave the crew.” That thought hurts more than anything, and you bite your lip.

Kid’s hands ball into fists, his artificial hand screeching slightly with the grind of metal. “No one said you have to leave,” he says. “Nevermind. Just… Just keep trying to quit.”

He starts walking again. You have to trot to keep up, his legs that much longer than yours. Kid’s words repeat in your mind as you follow him, because coming from the prickly captain, it means more than he could possibly know. Keep trying, huh? Maybe… Maybe you will.

Your next concern is what you’ll do when you get back to the ship. Even if you run to where your spare clothes are stored, there’s a very good chance multiple crewmates will see your scars. They’re not exactly hard to spot.

Kid seems to read your mind, because right as you round the corner and the dock comes into view, he takes off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders without saying a word.

Your eyes widen, but he won’t look at you. With the difference in height between you, his coat is dragging on the ground, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Your heart clenches, but you don’t say anything either, knowing he’ll just snap if you point out his kindness. You slip your arms through the sleeves of his coat, your hands barely poking out of the too-long sleeves. The size difference between you makes you look a little ridiculous–you look like a pile of fabric with a head. You lift the bottom of his coat off the ground as you walk. It’s the least you can do.

(And, once you’re sure he’s not looking, you bury your nose into the fur of his coat and inhale deeply, taking comfort in his scent wrapped around you.)

Kid’s demeanor toward you changes after that. He’s far less harsh, he doesn’t raise his voice as often, and when he does, he quickly corrects himself. He’s generally just softer. You even notice that he appears around you more often and eventually realize that he’s checking on you. You never say anything, and you don’t really talk about it. But that’s okay.

His presence is enough.

Killer

Killer sees when he walks in on you in the shower. He leaves quickly with a muttered apology, and you don’t even realize he saw anything, at first. But after you dry off and get dressed, when you open the door, he’s standing there.

You only know he’s looking at you because his mask is tilted down in your direction. His bulk takes up the doorframe, and you wait for him to move. He doesn’t, as still as a gargoyle.

“Um… Killer?” You say. “If you want the shower, you have to move so I can get out…”

Killer reaches out, and at one point, you might have flinched. But you’ve known him so long, and Killer’s always been nice to you, even when you were new to the crew. You don’t feel any fear as one massive hand rests on your upper arm, where your scars are hiding under the sleeve of your shirt.

“What’s… oh, fuck,” you breathe as it dawns on you, “you saw it, didn’t you? Shit. Um. I, uh…”

Naturally, you can’t see his expression, and it’s kind of driving you crazy, because he’s not saying anything to show what he’s thinking, either. His hand around your arm squeezes slightly, and you swallow, not really knowing what that means.

“Killer…” You mumble. “I don’t… Uh… Look, just… You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Killer pulls you toward him suddenly, as easily as if you weigh nothing, and wraps his massive arms around you, crushing you against him in a hug.

You squeak in surprise and instinctively squirm, but he doesn’t let go, so you give up after a moment, going still.

He’s so warm, and the contact feels so good. Almost too good, because suddenly you think you might cry, and you realize you haven’t actually been hugged in years. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so safe.

“Killer,” you choke out around a lump in your throat. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to cry.”

“That’s okay,” he rumbles above you, deep voice soothing. “You can cry. You probably need it, yeah?”

Damn it, that does you in, your eyes stinging as tears well up. You don’t want to, but his gentle permission is like a catalyst, and you sink into him as the tears start to roll down your cheeks. He can’t see it from how your face is pressed against his chest, but when he hears your first sniffle, his arms tighten around you.

Even while you cry, you try to hold back, to keep from openly sobbing. It’s like Killer can sense that, because his mask presses against the top of your head almost affectionately, and the action just makes you break down further until you finally let go entirely. Your arms, at first hanging limply at your sides, raise so you can hug him back, fingers digging into his shirt.

Killer holds you for as long as you need it. You’re not sure how much time has passed. Eventually your sobs fade and the tears stop, but even then, Killer doesn’t let go until you do first.

“Killer…” You look up at him gratefully, and he wipes away your tears with his hand. “Thank you. You were right. I needed that, more than I’d like to admit. Thank you…”

He nods.

“And, um,” you swallow, “you won’t, uh…”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Killer assures.

“Okay,” you sigh, now more than a little tired after the swell of emotion. “I know you don’t like keeping things from Kid, so… Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You’re about to step past him when Killer gently grabs your wrist. “Y/n.”

You turn back to him, your expression asking the question for you.

He bends over, lowering his head until his mask touches your forehead. His free hand takes your other wrist. “People care about you. The crew. Kid. Me. We all care.”

You might have cried again if you hadn’t just let it all out a minute ago, but it doesn’t stop your chest from getting tight. “I know.”

Killer’s thumbs rub circles on your arms for a minute before he lets you go, straightening to his full height.

You assume that would be the last time he holds you. It would have been good enough. Even though you kind of crave the physical attention after that, you’re satisfied with the one time. But Killer seeks you out again later in the week, waiting until the two of you are alone to envelop you in another hug. He does it again days later, and again after that. In fact, you realize that he takes the chance to do so whenever you two are in private. It doesn’t happen too often on the ship.

But when it does, well, how can you be upset?

Thanks so much for reading! I hope it made you feel better, if only a little. (Reblogs are much appreciated!)

[avocadorablepirate]

What Do We Call This? - 10

prev || mini masterlist || next

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, the occasional OP spoiler

A/N: Damn I can't believe we've made it to ten chapters (and I still don't know what to call this). Anyway, thanks for sticking around and I hope you like this one as well!

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

You were aware of the beyond uncomfortable position you were in. The soreness of your back and numbness in your arm evidently the reasons for your discomfort. But the warmth radiating from your side refused to have you wake up. It was like being covered by a thick blanket on a cold winter's day, and you wanted to relish in it for as long as you could. And as if understanding your need for more of its warmth, the blanket pulled you further into its embrace.

The creaking of a door and a loud gasp is what finally startled you awake. At the entrance to the room stood Bepo, his doe-like eyes wide, and reflecting shock, making your brows furrow in confusion. At the same time a low groan and a tug at your waist came from beside you, the grip warm and firm, anchoring you to the spot. Confused yet again, you turned your head only to find yourself face to face with a tattooed chest. It took your brain a while to process who the chest belonged to, but when recognition hit, you tried to pull away from it.

The sudden movement within his arms made Law's grip tighten around you. His eyes blinked open to see what was causing such a ruckus, and his expression soon mirrored your surprised one. His cheeks flushed red as he immediately pulled away from you, apologise flowing out of his mouth. It had seemed that somewhere during the night he had accidentally pulled you down with him as he nestled into his bed - or maybe nestled into you.

Only then did Law notice the white bear standing by the door, still bewildered by the sight in front of him. Law stood up quickly, his body tense as he eyed Bepo, and seizing your chance, you scrambled out of the bed. Though you couldn't get out of the room just yet; Bepo remained unmoving by the door, rooted to the spot until his captain called out to him.

"Cap-Captain!" came a high-pitched squeak, before he cleared his throat, "We'll be approaching Wano in a few hours. We..we couldn't find you around the sub, so I thought I would come here. Sorry captain," he said with a little bow of his head. His apology only added to your flustered state as you realised what the situation must have looked like to him.

"I'll be out soon, just give me a minute," Law directed to Bepo, but you took that as your sign to leave as well, quickly following behind the Mink even before Law could think of calling you back.

You hurried back to your temporary quarters on the Polar Tang, exhaling a sigh of relief as you found it empty. You weren't exactly sure how you would explain to Robin and Ikkaku why you were sheepishly returning in your disheveled clothes from the previous day. While you were sure they would believe your explanation, you also knew that it wouldn't stop them from teasing.

After quickly freshening up, you made your way to the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee welcoming you as you entered the room. Robin and Ikkaku sat at the table, engrossed in conversation, but as soon as you took a seat beside them, their attention shifted to you, their expressions changing into ones of suspicion.

"(Y/N), where have you been? You weren't in your bunk when I woke up," Robin questioned, not taking her eyes off you as she sipped at her coffee.

"Oh, you know, just exploring the sub," you answered with a shrug, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible as you poured yourself a cup of the dark liquid. Although the two of them didn't seem completely convinced by your reply, they didn't press further, resuming their conversation, which you joined. As the three of you settled into easy banter, you found yourself drawn into the lively discussion. You and Ikkaku chatted animatedly while Robin listened, chiming in from time to time. It hadn't taken long for the two of you to befriend Ikkaku; it had happened almost overnight on your first day on the Polar Tang, and since then the three of you always seemed to have something to talk about.

Engrossed in your discussion, you were so immersed in the conversation that you didn't notice the tall figure that stood over you until you heard a throat clear, and the table fell silent. Shifting in your seat, your heart skipped a beat when you found Law standing behind you, his gaze fixed on your form with a certain intensity.

"You left this," he said, handing you the pouch from last night. You hastily grabbed the bag from him, offering a small smile of thanks while silently praying that Robin and Ikkaku hadn't overheard his words. However, the curious glances from the two women behind you said otherwise. They had clearly caught Law's previous actions and were now observing his continued stare at you as if he were contemplating his next words. Ikkaku, growing impatient with her burning curiosity, was on the verge of questioning her captain when Law finally spoke up.

"If you'd like to come to my room again, I could show you some books I have about islands," Law stated casually, unfazed by Ikkaku and Robin's mischievous grins that followed.

"Again?" Robin asked, arching an eyebrow and you felt a wave of panic wash over you.

"Let's go now," you said hurriedly, grabbing Law by the arm and pulling him along before either Robin or Ikkaku could protest. You and avoidance were well acquainted, and right now, it was your best bet to escape their incessant questioning.

You raced down the corridor, with Law in tow. The weight of his gaze bore into your back, intense like last time, yet unreadable as always. Once you were finally within the safe confines of his quarters you let go of his arm, your face flushed with embarrassment, "You didn't have to say that in front of them," you mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

"Say what?" Law asked, tilting his head in confusion before realisation dawned on him, a small smirk forming on his lips, "You didn't have to rush out of the room," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, I didn't really feel like answering a bunch of questions," you replied. You would take their curiosity over their teasing questions any day. "So, what are these books you have?" you inquired, eager to change the subject.

Law made his way to the shelf by his bedside and rummaged through it, his fingers trailing along the spines of each book until he found what he was looking for.

"You're looking for an island, right?" he asked, as he read through the summary at the back of the book he had selected. "It's an old book, and from what I know it's the only copy. It has details about the Grand-Line's lesser-known islands, and some extra pages about islands that have disappeared over the years."

You quietly whispered a word of thanks as you accepted the book from Law, your fingers lightly brushing against his as you did. For a second your gazes met, and you could have sworn that he let his hand linger on yours, but you quickly turned your attention to the book.

As you flipped through the contents, your eyes gleamed with excitement when you found a few maps towards the end, eliciting a smile from Law. Settling on the edge of his bed, you started reading through the pages, and he sat beside you, pointing out interesting facts and occasionally stealing glances in your direction. Law couldn't help but adore the way your face lit up with every turn of a page. Yet you remained completely oblivious to it, your focus fixed solely on the book in front of you.

Nearly an hour had passed when a soft knock at the door interrupted the peaceful atmosphere. Law called out for the person to come in, and the door opened slightly to reveal Bepo. A gasp came out of the Mink again, and he immediately launched into a series of apologise, leading Law to roll his eyes.

"We're just reading Bepo," Law muttered, his tone tinged with irritation. A blush crept up to the apples of your cheeks at the reminder of the earlier misunderstanding, and you glanced away, trying to focus back on the book.

Bepo shuffled awkwardly at the door, still unsure of whether to intrude or not, and Law sighed at the bear's hesitance. "What is it?" he asked, his voice softer now, though a hint of impatience was evident. In truth, Law hoped it was nothing serious. He was enjoying this calm, quiet moment with you and he didn't want it to end. The warmth of your presence seemed to stop time and eased the tension within him.

"Kin'emon wants to brief us before we reach Wano, so we're needed on deck," Bepo answered, and Law inwardly let out a frustrated sigh, his gaze momentarily flickering back to you to gauge your reaction. You, however, slammed the book shut and took to your feet. The prospect of a new adventure excited you, and despite the interruption, you felt a rush of eagerness.

"Let's go," you said with a bright smile, looking at Law. His frustration eased at the sight of your enthusiasm, and he couldn't help but give a faint smile back.

"Alright," he agreed, standing up as well, and the both of you followed behind Bepo to the deck.

_______________________________________________

"No."

"What?"

Law's jaw clenched as he glared at Kin'emon for his suggestion before his gaze shifted to you, softening. His mind raced with concerns for your safety, unwilling to expose you to any unnecessary risks after what you had told him last night.

"I said no," Law said firmly, redirecting his attention to Kin'emon, "It's too risky. Having both her and Robin as geishas will attract too much attention. We'll get caught."

"Maybe an oiran then?" Kin'emon suggested, and Law's jaw clenched tighter as he thought about the implications, the mere thought of other men laying eyes on you, setting his protective instincts into overdrive.

"No!" Law practically yelled though he tried to maintain his composure as he formulated another protest to Kin'emon's suggestion. "It's still too dangerous. The attention would be just as bad, if not worse."

You glanced at Law, not expecting him to be protective even now. His concern was evident, even if he hid it behind practical reasoning, but this wasn't for him to decide. You tried to interject, wanting to voice your opinion, but Law's firm protest silenced you before you could even get a word out. Kin'emon, too, seemed to ignore your attempts to speak, his attention focused on Law's objections.

"But Law-dono, we need to get as much information as we can," Kin'emon insisted, his brow furrowing in frustration. The urgency of the mission weighed heavily on him.

"Yes, but sending in too many people to the same place could jeopardize the entire plan," Law countered, his voice steady and unwavering.

Kin'emon hesitated for a moment, considering Law's words carefully, "Perhaps you're right," he conceded, finally turning his attention to you, "In that case, how about you work as a waitress instead? It's a less conspicuous role, but there's a place that Orochi's men frequent, so you'll still have the opportunity to gather information."

Law visibly frowned at the proposal but was quick to hide it. He would have protested to this plan as well if it wasn't so obvious that he was being overprotective. Law was generally someone who agreed with the best possible course of action. But with you things were different, he preferred to keep you close rather than risk your safety, even if that meant a few compromises would have to be made.

You exchanged another glance with Law, feeling a surge of annoyance bubbling within you. Despite understanding his intentions, you couldn't help but feel frustrated by the way your opinion was completely disregarded. Nevertheless, you bit back your objections, not wanting to cause further conflict. With a forced nod of agreement, you reluctantly agreed to Kin'emon's suggestion.

As Kin'emon turned to leave, satisfied with the compromise, you couldn't shake the feeling of irritation that gnawed at you. While the others dispersed, returning to their tasks in preparation for your arrival at Wano, you remained stiff by the railing, trying to quell your frustration.

Law approached you, his footsteps echoing against the deck as he closed the distance between you. "We still have some time, do you want to get back to reading?" he offered casually, trying to stop the corners of his mouth from lifting in a small smile.

"No," you replied curtly, your voice betraying your annoyance. Law's brows furrowed at your change in demeanor, and his eyes searched yours for a hint to your sudden change.

"I need to prepare for when we reach Wano," you explained, hurriedly walking away before he could further question you. Left puzzled, Law watched your retreating figure, worry clouding his mind as he contemplated following you. He couldn't stand the thought of you being upset with him again, not when you were gradually opening up to each other. Yet duty called, Shachi needed him in the control room. With a heavy sigh, he turned away, deciding to check up on you later, hoping to mend whatever rift had formed between the two of you.

_______________________________________________

A/N: I LIVE FOR THE TENSION...just going to keep causing problems for the both of them ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭.

taglist: @trafalgardaria @deathsmajestysworld @cottoncandyloverrrr @magnificenttaledreamland @kitsunechan707

[jjungkookislife]

Quarterly Fic Recs 2024: #2

Hello! It's that time again (I feel like this past quarter flew by! I enjoyed these fics these past few months, and I hope you'll enjoy them too! Please consider reblogging fics you enjoyed to share them with others! I love finding new fics to read! :)

Seokjin

the leather loafers @jimlingss

summary: Yes. You went to the ball. Yes. You ran into the prince. Yes. The shoe fits. BUT-! You aren't that Cinderella bitch. THEY'VE GOT THE WRONG PERSON!

into the rush @minisugakoobies

summary: When your best friend Taehyung tells you he has the perfect thing to help you get over a broken heart, you’re surprised to learn he means dodgeball, the beloved game of sociopathic gym teachers everywhere. But even more surprising is the way you find comfort in the game, and so much more, as you fall into the rush with the help of another teammate - his brother, Seokjin.

Yoongi

tiger layer @kth1

summary: You are here to serve your king. In any way he pleases.

minis: july 1874 @hobidreams

summary: time goes on, and so does your love stretch and grow alongside it.

sunder @sailoryooons

summary: Sunder (sun·​der) transitive verb : to break apart or in two : to separate by or as if by violence or by intervening time or space

Hoseok

in good hands @/minisugakoobies

summary: Once again, another partner has left you feeling unsatisfied. Maybe it’s time to call in an expert. Don’t worry, Hoseok knows exactly what you need.

Namjoon

none :(

Jimin

delicate @/gimmethatagustd

summary: After months of not talking to each other, Taehyung thinks he can charm his way into your life again. Thankfully, Jimin is there to help you work through your feelings.

Taehyung

only here to sin @/gimmethatagustd

summary: When your genius of a boyfriend returns to Harvard for his sophomore year of college, you never would have expected to have his worst enemy keeping you entertained in his absence.

Jungkook

valentine vixen @bunnyhugs77

stripper reader! x rich! jungkook

supercharged @btsmosphere

summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won’t be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens?

fan identity [SMAU] @tteokggukk

summary: in which you and jungkook are both famous internet celebrities that have never interacted, but share a common secret. you both have fan accounts for each other where you actively show support and express your opinions. one day, you were both nominated for the same award, social media influencer of the year. lowkey rooting for the other, you both express your opinions on your secret fan accounts as certain interactions begin to arise from a famous fan account dedicated to your “opponent” nominee.

closer @sweetestofchaos

summary: being close to you is still not close enough

OT7/Multiple Members

dirty, dirty boy @gimmethatagustd

summary: For Taehyung, the only revenge sweeter than fucking Namjoon’s girlfriend behind his back is fucking Namjoon from the back.

s

Namjoon

bf snapchats @secretsecretbunny

Jungkook

supercharged @btsmosphere

summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won’t be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens?

Seokjin

day six [corruption kink] @euphoricfilter

gf gives him a blowjob @sugarlywhispers

slithered from Eden @aphrodijin

summary: in which your new lover is probably a fairy or a vampire, you’re not sure. all you know is that he’s too beautiful to be human, to be even real at all.

i hate u, i love u @jeonbunnie

summary: If loving Jin is wrong, you don’t wanna be right.

this is us @btsgotjams27

alternate timeline

Yoongi

yours to keep @ugh-yoongi

established relationship au

twelve @sailoryooons

summary: When the red string of fate appears around your ankle, you have twelve days to find your fated partner or die. That’s how the spell works - that’s how fate has always run Her business. There is one, very inconvenient witch who keeps getting in your way, though, and you might just kill each other before your mark does.

pull it harder @multicitrus

summary: Yoongi has a slight hair-pulling kink.

every little thing @7ndipity

summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

silk touch @jjkwifestyle

summary: where yoongi's touch drives you mad.

wishes and kisses @95rkives

summary: sneaking into his studio with burnt homemade cupcakes to celebrate his birthday.

boyfriend yoongi @perfectlyoongi

always, us @katnisspeetaprim

Hoseok

scary good @7ndipity

summary: A spooky movie and needy Hobi? You couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Halloween.

hoseok drabble @dirtybtssnaps

fuck around and...? @kooksbunnnn

summary: Being neglected can bring out the brat inside you, little do you know that he loves to be the brat tamer.

retribution @kpopfanfictrash

Namjoon

the morning after @7ndipity

summary: Namjoon’s reaction to you waking up sore after a night together.

needy @likeastarstar

he's a munch @kooktrash

established relationship

doom boy @soft4gguk

Jimin

prompt drabble @jl-micasea-fics

gf gives him a blowjob @sugarlywhispers

I'm here sweetheart @folkookie97

summary: Jimin comforts his wife during her crying spell.

i promise i'll say yes @taetaespeaches

Taehyung

the one with the hall pass @eoieopda

summary: you and your boyfriend have everything important in common — especially your taste in men.

taehyung drabble @euphorajeon

ride with me @theharrowing

summary: While on location for Taehyung’s driving vlog, he shuts the camera off to make a confession.

it's definitely you @pt2change

baby @minisugakoobies

summary: It’s just another Saturday night out, drinking with your favorite people, trying to pretend that you’re not completely in love with your best friend.

fireworks ^

summary: Taehyung knows exactly why he doesn’t remember last year’s fireworks.

Jungkook

paradise @minisugakoobies

summary: That sexy man on stage - the one currently giving your friend the lap dance of her LIFE - is your super shy neighbor, Jeon Jungkook?!

naked @btsgotjams27

summary: You’re selfish when it comes to him. He wants more, but you won’t let him.

late night calls @bangtaninborderland

summary: you get a call from Jungkook at 7am, struck with worry you pick up only to find your adorably tired boyfriend.

OT7/Multiple Members

carnival of terror ch. 4 @theharrowing

summary: The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

the one with the hall pass pt. 2 @eoieopda

summary: you and your boyfriend have everything important in common — especially your taste in men.

[alchemistc]

goon | bucktommy | chapter three

check out the hockey glossary here (updated for chapter two)

Prologue | Chapter One | Chapter Two

read Chapter Three on ao3

Tommy's got a plan for the break. It's the same plan as he has every year: spend six days losing every bit of conditioning he's managed to gain over the course of the season by slowly becoming one with his couch, catch up on all the shitty shows he's been neglecting, eat his weight in potato chips and ice cream. Then he'll have one day before practice starts up again where he does weight training so long he wants to throw up, and back to the grind. The usual.

He gets the text as he's rebuilding his nest on the couch, three quarters of the way through day three, and for a long long moment he considers ignoring it.

His phone vibrates on the table again, and Tommy stares apologetically at the movie already queued up to play.

Drinks at Rare Bird tonight. says the text from Chimney, and then, below it, See you at eight. Love Actually can wait

Not a question mark to be found, and he's about to point that out when another text comes in, this time from Ravi.

You have to come tonight

No additional context, again. He's - not exactly unfamiliar with becoming the anchor for an anxious kid trying to find his place - a little mentorship, a little wing-manning, a lot like the guy who'll sit there and just be steady and quiet when someone is overwhelmed and needs a focus point. Panikkar is calm on the surface and an absolute nightmare right under it, a stunning swan with little webbed feet kicking up a storm underneath where all his vulnerabilities are laid bare. Tommy's used to cracking a terrible joke just to force someone so breathless with laughter they forget they'd been holding it, and he's used to that person immediately finding themselves at ease around him.

He has no fucking clue how the front office had known to look for someone to fill that role on the team, but it's become very clear over the course of the last month or so that this in one of the hand-wavey intangibles he's been brought in for.

And Greenway getting traded two days before the All-Star break had fundamentally changed something in the locker room.

There’s always a clique situation in a league like this — D-Pairs like Buckley and Diaz spending so much time together they have their own language that’s incomprehensible to anyone who hasn’t known them as long as they’ve known each other; stars like McKinley and all the guys he’s convinced the front office to sign because he can make them fit the play style they’re going for; the group of guys that jump between third and fourth lines with their heads on a swivel for the first opportunity to take a stab at more minutes; the boys living in their buddies basement apartment and the ones who own a McMansion somewhere in a gated community half an hour away from the rink.

Greenway had made the cliques circle in, shore up for the storm. And Tommy’s an easy-going guy, gets along well with everyone, but — something had lifted, the day they got the news, some tension easing, the groups getting a little less exclusive even just in the single game they’d played after he was gone. There’s no one for Tommy to say “I told you so” to, but he’d patted himself on the back for knowing it, anyway.

Tommy's trying to convince himself not to cave to Ravi and Chim when another text comes in, this one from Diaz.

We're taking bets on which turn Buck's gonna eat shit on this year, you in?

Christ, they live eat and breathe the game.

Tommy's not any better.

Twenty bucks says he beefs it on the third turn, Tommy sends back, before turning off the television and heading towards the shower.

---

There’s a certain artistry to meeting up for drinks with teammates. The dynamics of running into fans has changed, over the years. The social media boom had made it a nightmare for a few years, and Tommy’d spent about five of them walking and talking the faces of the league through panic attacks and generalized anxiety like he was a damn therapist, before he’d discovered that just telling them to go to fucking therapy was enough.

He’d seen a switch after finally escaping the Edmonton bubble, in a world that had spent eight months dialed in to social issues and gained a startling awareness of personal space, so it was a little easier, now, to roll into a bar and meet up with three or four guys without crowds of people demanding selfies. Tommy wasn’t likely to be on anyone’s radar, but he tended to be noticed out in public when he was out with everyone’s favorite.

Today he rolls up with Eddie Diaz in the passenger seat of his truck and hands his keys to the valet. The kid is still sporting a face full of acne, a foot shorter than Tommy and eyeing Diaz curiously as he swivels out of his seat, and Tommy has a moment where he’s sure the kid is gonna forget himself and gush about everyone’s second-favorite d-man in this town, but when his eyes go wide his gaze flicks from Diaz back to Tommy, and Tommy feels completely out of his depth.

“I — sorry, this is so rude, dude, but — you’re my sisters favorite player, man. She’s like, obsessed with you.”

Tommy’s brows go up, and he can feel Eddie’s eyes on the back of his neck as he points at his own chest. “Me?”

“Yeah, man — I mean she sorta hated you when you were with the Kings, but in a weird, like, ero —.” He pauses, and Tommy is grateful for the both of them. “Anyway. She was super excited when we signed you. We were at the St. Louis game. Fucking epic, man.”

Tommy — flounders. It’s been years since he’s gotten anything more than a look of recognition and a glance behind him to see if anyone else has tagged along with him. When Diaz rounds the hood of the truck and smacks a hand firmly down on Tommy’s shoulder, the kid smiles and redirects his gaze straight to Tommy. Which is weird as fuck. What the hell is in the water in this state?

“Thanks,” Tommy says, and Eddie grins charmingly at the kid.

“That’s Kinard, for you. Fuckin’ epic.”

The kid does something complicated with his face, like he’s realized some sort of gaffe, and turns an apologetic look on Eddie. “You’re also, like — I mean you’re great, Mr. Diaz.”

Tommy can’t hide the snort that escapes when Diaz’s face twitches, like he’s trying his very hardest not to react to the name. The kid looks like he’d like the ground to open him up and swallow him whole, so Tommy reaches into his back pocket, pulls a twenty from his wallet, and slaps it in the kids hand before he can say anything else. “Just in case your shift ends before we’re back,” he says, when the kid opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, and Tommy makes a mental note to ask the manager for his name, maybe send the kid a couple tickets to their next home game. Not that the seats need filling, in Denver, but — yeah, he’s a little flattered and it’s always fun to make someone’s day with shit like that.

Tommy shoots the kid finger guns as they say their goodbyes, about half to make the kid feel less self-conscious and half because he’s never been able to break the habit when he’s feeling a little overwhelmed himself. “Tell your sister I said hi,” Tommy says, and it’s Eddie’s turn to snort as they swing through the doors in search of the rest of their party.

---

Ravi’s hands go up the moment he spots them being led through the crowd by the hostess, and he does a celebratory little dance in his seat before he seems to realize his fingers are covered in nacho cheese. Chimney rolls his eyes from Ravi’s left as he reaches for one of the linen napkins on the table, and the woman sitting next to Chimney smiles.

He’d forgotten Chimney was engaged. The last time he’d spent any length of time with Chim, he’d been seeing a girl who didn’t know a single true thing about him.

She’s pretty — long dark hair and deep brown eyes, a quirk to her lips as she smiles at him that feels vaguely familiar, though he can’t quite place it. When he leans in to shake her hand, she introduces herself as Maddie Buckley.

Which he’d known, in the abstract. Of course he’d known, he’s heard Chim and Buck chirping at each other good naturedly for weeks now, really leaning into the idea that they’re soon to be brothers.

She tilts her head to the side, eyes on him as he settles in next to Ravi, Eddie pulling out the chair to his left, and Tommy recognizes that mannerism too — sitting in the locker room after optionals, Buckley already done with his after-practice workout and parked on the bench a few feet away from Tommy (who’d spent the same half hour on the ice taking passes on the move, trying like hell to find a rhythm that could help him keep up with Panikkar) plying him for stories about the year he’d played for the Hershey Bears.

They’re well situated to watch the skills competition, tucked into a corner with a television hanging overhead in every direction, all of them tuned into the pre-show, and as a server comes by to grab their drink orders Tommy stares around the table at the piles and piles of starters laid out and covering most of the available surface area. Chimney clocks his raised brow.

“Listen, there are only so many times a year I’m not under constant threat of death and dismemberment from my future brother-in-law if I so much as think of junk food. Ravi and I are going to enjoy this while we can.”

Maddie tsks. “He’s not that bad,” she intones, although she’s smiling like she’s conjuring a fond memory of her brother being an absolute terror. And it’s not that he hasn’t heard these stories before — Buckley’s sort of renowned for the health-nut thing around the league — but Tommy had also downed three cream cheese pastries with his coffee on the walk back to their hotel rooms, back in Utah, and Buckley hadn’t said a word.

“It’s the silent judging that really gets to you,” Eddie throws in, head tilted up towards one of the TV’s, where they’re showing highlights from the last few All Star competitions.

“He’s never silently judged me in his life,” Ravi contradicts, digging deep into the nachos in search of the strip of chicken buried under the pile. “He’s very loud about it. Whoever gave that man an iPad and Karen Wilson’s spreadsheets should be drawn and quartered.”

“Oooh, are we talking shit about Buckley?” comes a voice from his left, and Lucy Donato sneaks past him to snag a chip from Ravi’s plate.

Donato is technically the most decorated athlete of the lot of them — three golds and a bronze in women’s hockey, Tommy doesn’t have a fucking clue why she’s been an equipment manager for the team for going on four years now but the team loves her, and she seems to enjoy the work. Maybe it’s the roar of the crowd, maybe it’s the camaraderie, maybe the fact that she’d grown up with four brothers factors into it and she’s just happy to have that lovingly antagonistic relationship with the boys again.

“Is this is a safe space to remind everyone that it is not my fault Taylor Kelly wrote that tell-all article for the Athletic?”

At Tommy’s side, Eddie makes a face. “We don’t have to talk about her.”

He’s used to being a little out of the loop, when it comes to the intricacies of team dynamics — every team has groupings of people who live in each others pockets for eight to ten months out of the year, and know a little too much about one another. Tommy’s used to being a witness to it from the outside, to being the aloof mysterious one someone is always bound and determined to crack.

“We could talk about Marisol, if you want,” Lucy says, licking cheese off her finger as she settles into the seat to Ravi’s right, and Eddie shoots her a warning look. “How about Kim?”

“Okay,” Chim interrupts when Eddie opens his mouth to retort. “Hen’s late, but we are still taking bets. Tommy’s got the third turn, my lovely future wife and Eddie are both naïve optimists who think he’s going to learn from last years embarrassment and make it all the way to the end without letting the pressure get to him, I’m going first turn when he tries to build momentum. Ravi, Donato?”

Tommy lets the conversation wash over him. When his drink comes, he doesn’t even get a chance to sip at it before Donato is leaning over the table to steal his spear of cherries. Hen gives the bar-food laden table a raised brow when she arrives with her wife and jumps right into giving Panikkar shit about the condo he’s trying to purchase in one of the nearly-gentrified neighborhoods downtown. When the pre-show ends fifteen minutes later they all turn their attention to the televisions overhead, and Tommy sips at his Old Fashioned, wishing he’d ordered a beer instead.

There’s an element to nights like these that always make Tommy a little wistful. There’s so much history between them all, so much love. Tommy’s not lacking for friends, but he’s never really been a part of something like this. Like family.

When the server comes around to check in about another round, Tommy asks for the beer menu and orders himself an IPA. Anything to keep him from getting too loose-lipped as they cheer on Buckley and McKinley in their skills events.

Buckley eats shit around the third turn in the speed skate, and in his pocket Tommy’s phone buzzes with Venmo notifications as rest of the table grumbles and pays up.

He’s halfway through his second beer, two rounds into the precision shot competition, when Donato rounds on him.

“So. Kinard.”

“Donato.”

Her gaze is assessing, like she’s trying to pin him down, and Tommy has played this game for too many years to do anything but take a steady sip of his beer. “Thoughts on upcoming theme nights?”

Tommy doesn’t particularly pay attention to those. After the shitstorm of the commissioner banning Pride gear, confirming to Tommy that he’d been right, all those years ago, to lean into the toxicity, he’d stopped caring what sweater the equipment team left in his locker for warmups and just tried his best to keep his head down. He spends a long moment holding eye contact, unsure what exactly the line of questioning is about, before Eddie chimes in on his left.

“You do this every time,” he says, finger out, head tipped warningly, and Lucy shrugs, arms up in a gesture of surrender.

“Just trying to take the pulse of things, Jesus. I’m the one that has to deal with it if one of you fucknuts gets too enthusiastic and tapes his stick up in rainbow colors and he throws a tantrum about it.”

Hen and Karen both swivel their eyes to meet his, and the table goes uncomfortably still. He’d been leaning into the misogyny, the last time he’d played for a team Hen worked for, and he’s still not sure if she’d ever noticed how lackluster the comments had been, how close he’d been to finally breaking free of a truly mindbogglingly shitty coaching staff. They’d ended on friendly terms, but other than a few polite questions about her wife, they’ve never really talked about any of that.

Maddie, shockingly, is the one who breaks through the tension. “You went to the Pride parade in Nashville last summer, didn’t you? Buck always makes a note of the guys that do.”

He’d been terrified out of his fucking mind that someone would come to the outlandish (correct) conclusion that he was there as more than an ally, but Tommy didn’t shit where he ate, and Josi drew plenty more attention than he did, anyway.

Tommy nods. “I can tape my own stick and everything,” he says to Donato, brow raised, and she just nods back, apparently satisfied. It’s a relief, even if Karen Wilson has a curious eye on the finger he’s been nervously tapping against his beer since the original question had been posed. He keeps up the tapping for a few more beats.

“Always good to have another ally in the mix,” Hen says, doing something under the table that makes Karen glance away, and Tommy shifts the nerves into pressing his heel firmly into the floor beneath him. He feels like they’re all talking in riddles, trying to piece him together with faulty information, and for a moment, in this little bubble with people who seem to genuinely care for each other, he thinks it’d be easy to just let the cat out of the bag, say the words he’s had on the tip of his tongue for a decade, and in his heart for at least three.

Beside him, Eddie takes another pull off his beer, leans in to Tommy’s side. “Come watch the game at my place tomorrow? Just me and Chris, the rest of these idiots are doing brunch before coaches shindig.”

Tommy sort of desperately wants to tell him that he has a date with his television that he’s already skipped once, but — well, he likes Eddie, and it’d be nice to finally meet his kid. “Will Christopher snitch on us if I bring pizza?”

Eddie grins. “He absolutely will, but Buck’s wrath isn’t enough to stop me. Is it enough to stop you?”

Possibly, Tommy thinks, but instead of admitting that he just asks Eddie to text him his son’s toppings preferences.

---

On the bedside table, his phone lights up, and Tommy turns to grab it, keying in his passcode and frowning at the name on his notifications.

He swipes into his messages and stares at the text for a long, long minute.

Tommy’s never actually come out to anyone in his life. Never said the words, never had them asked — but there are a few people that have figured it out on their own, a few people who have done the work of supporting him while keeping it under wraps.

Sid’s sent him a picture. Not the usual one where it’s mostly his ass in a mirror followed by the number of squats he’s been doing daily. This is a terrible quality photo, shitty lighting in a dark bar, half the screen taken over by a hairy arm because of the angle the camera is tipped at. It’s four in the morning in Tampa, and Sidney motherfucking Crosby has just sent him a selfie of himself with his arm tossed over Evan Buckley’s shoulders.

Both of them are grinning, faces cast in shadow, eyes towards the camera, and Tommy taps into the picture so he can zoom in, stare at the smile lines around his eyes, the edges of a grin — Sid’s smug look like he knows exactly what Tommy had been thinking when he’d asked him to reach out to Buck.

He stares at it until another text comes in.

You should reconsider how off-limits this one is, he won’t shut up about you. Your name has lost all meaning to me.

Tommy swallows. Breathes through his nose, in-out-in-out. Slides his gaze back to the wide smile and rosy cheeks of Evan Buckley, one more time.

Go to bed, old man, he shoots back and closes out the thread.

He stares at the background on his phone: the crest of the hiking trail he’d found, two weeks ago, on a recommendation from Diaz, which he’d hit right at sunset, pinks and oranges and purples bleeding in to the chilly grey-blue sky.

His phone buzzes with another notification, this time from Buck. Tommy considers ignoring it, letting it sit unread at the very least until the morning. His phone buzzes a second time, and then a third.

The first is another picture — better angle, better lighting, better quality in general, exact same pose, including Sid’s knowing eyebrow and the soft sparkle of Buck’s eyes.

You can fly a helicopter? the first text reads, and then, all caps, YOU FLEW CROSBY IN A HELICOPTER ONCE????

Like an idiot, Tommy taps into the picture, presses down, saves it to his phone, and flips back into the thread just in time for another text.

You bet on me falling :(

You WON on me falling :( :(

He should absolutely put his phone down and go the fuck to sleep, but on the off chance that Buckley is stlll hanging out with Crosby, he doesn’t want to ignore Buck. That’d just be rude.

Used the winnings to buy a kid and his sister a suite for the next home game, he shoots back, and ignores the little thrill that shoots down his spine when three dots immediately appear right beneath his text.

That’s annoyingly sweet

Tommy breathes deep. Four-o-nine AM in Tampa. They’ve got a game that starts in less than twelve hours, there. He sends back: Selfish. The sister is apparently my biggest fan.

I’M your biggest fan, comes the text, followed by typing dots. They disappear, then reappear, then disappear again. Tommy doesn’t mean to time it, but thirty seven seconds later they appear again.

Let me know where they’re sitting. I’ll have someone send them your sweater.

then

You wanna sign it first?

Tommy takes a deep breath, and presses the call button.

[kenananamin]

Nanami watching a reality show

a very short list of hcs about nanami kento watching a reality show bc i was watching jersey shore, the hills, and sister wives and wondered what he would think about those shows and reality shows in general lol enjoy!

always avoided watching them bc gojo gave him enough drama and he did not want more

passes you the control and tells you to put whatever you'd like since he was gonna finish his report and read his newspaper for a bit

you put on a reality show, and he doesn't do it but he feels like groaning just from hearing the cast speak

he's a quarter of the way in one section of the newspaper when he hears some of the juiciest comebacks he has ever heard in his life

he doesn't lift his head the whole way but he watches the tv for a bit under his eyebrows

the thing is, nanami is a lowkey chismoso aka nosy

he skims through the rest of the newspaper and closes it and leans back w you to watch. you ask if he wants to change it and get ready to pass him the remote but he stops you and says to keep watching it bc he's getting up in a bit to make lunch anyways

does not get up to make lunch, y'all end up ordering in and nanami asks who each person is 10 times before finally (kinda) remembering names and understanding the dynamics

he'll shake his head and quietly mumble, "damn, that so messy" or "why would anyone in their right mind do that?"

is very shocked at half the things they do or say, but tries to hold in his laughter when someone says something ridiculous

quickly has nicknames for the cast and has his favorites

strongly dislikes the instigator and sits on the edge of the couch when someone stands up to them... but also looks forward to what the instigator does next

watches 90 day fiancé w you and grunts about the episode length but quietly watches... and enjoys

watches 90 day fiancé the other way and enjoys the way americans complain

can only watch a bit everyday and compares reality shows to medication, can only do so much at a time

will later ask which shows you've watched and looks them up when he's alone

will give you updates on the casts after looking them up on social media. "did you know she got married? i think they'll cover that in the next season?"

takes mental notes of contradictions and reminds you of these contradictions during the reunions

feels himself getting irrationally upset at some of these people and has to remind himself it might be scripted

will eventually ask if you'd like to watch a more wholesome reality show to balance out the dramatic ones

later falls into the hole of survival shows

gets a bit sulky if you watch the shows without him

hates to admit that he wants to get back home and watch one of these shows

quietly asks if you'd like to have a weekly reality show day w him where you can relax all day (or most of it at least) and have snacks, order in and just watch watch and comment on these shows

these end up being one of his favorite moments of the week w you, snuggling and enjoying brain rotting television

extras about certain shows:

prays that angelina is removed from the shore house, that sammi and ron separate for their own good, and mike gets the help he needs (is happy when it all happens except for when angelina comes back in the family vacation spin-off)

lowkey wants to rewatch the hills after the ending leaves him wondering how scripted the entire show was (you go back to explain the drama behind that and how it was mtv poking fun at it all)

has given up on trying to learn the names of the kids in sister wives. knows their faces, not their names. feels like he has personal beef with kody. wants to catch up on all recent drama.

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (12)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T (reference to prior acts) Words: 1.2k Summary: "Thanks." "Anytime."

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

He ain’t got no right to feel hurt.

After he’d come harder than he had in a century, spilling his seed across those soft thighs of hers, he’d tried to kiss her. He knew better, but for some reason thought it might be different after.

She’d rejected him, of course.

Why wouldn’t she? She was all smooth skin and cool blood, and she’d made her stance on kisses abundantly clear. But after that ride he was certain she’d change her mind. 

He was a damned fool.

He needs to get away, to shimmy out of this hole they were trapped in and get his bearings again. Put some distance between them. The deathclaw was long gone, no reason to keep hiding.

Except…

Except she was still panting under him, round breasts pressed to his chest with each inhale. He hadn’t imagined how wet she was for him, the way she’d come apart on his cock… nor had he imagined that other thing.

It was enough to drive a man to drink. 

Deciding discretion is the better part of valor he digs in his pocket, finding a scrap of cloth and using it to wipe the cum from her skin before it can begin to burn. “You’ll need a dose of Rad-Away,” he tells her and she turns back, blinking up at him in confusion for a moment before her lips part in a silent ‘o’.

“I didn’t even think about that.”

No she hadn’t, and she hadn’t considered that he was as liable to eat her as he was to fuck her once they were in those tight quarters. She’d trusted him implicitly, which was an idiotic thing to do.

“C’mon, let’s get out and see what’s going on.” He uses one hand to do up his trousers then slides past her, scooping his hat back up and glancing around. There’s footprints in the floor but no sign of any danger. He turns back to tell her as much but she’s already there, dress still pushed to her waist and looking like she’d just been ridden hard.

His mouth goes instantly dry.

She doesn’t meet his eye when she fusses with the straps of the dress and he steps forward without thinking, pulling one up and settling it on her shoulder with careful fingers. She shivers under his touch and he cups her neck, forcing her to look up at him.

“Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s a terrible answer, one that gnaws at him as he steps away and fishes for his pack and gloves. He finds hers first, passing the bag her direction without a word. When he sets off again it’s parallel to the mountains they’re aiming for but she doesn’t say a word, keeping one step behind him.

The place he stops at for the night used to be a gas station, concrete on three sides with an easy vantage point from the front. They run off a mole rat and then he gives her the go ahead when she asks about a fire. The smell of roasted iguana fills the space while they sit silently across from each other.

“I wanted to.”

He cocks his head at her. They hadn’t exchanged more than three words in the last four hours.

“You asked why I… because I wanted to. Because I wanted you. Even though I shouldn’t.”

“Because I’m a ghoul,” he finishes for her with a scowl.

“Because I’m me and you’re…. you don’t know what I am.”

The bounty. He’d almost forgotten it. The poster was burning a hole in his pack and he’d all but decided to put off claiming it for at least a month. But she didn’t know that - didn’t know that he knew she was wanted by someone.

It was the perfect time to come clean - so of course he doesn’t. She continually surprised him and without knowing what her reaction was he wasn’t willing to risk it.

“I know you looked mighty pretty with my cock in you.” Her eyes fly to his and he grins, feeling himself warm when she laughs.

“It felt mighty pretty.”

That gets a laugh from him and he sets his hat aside and leans back against the rubble behind him. “Reckon it’s not what a filly imagines for her first time though, in the dirt like that.”

“You noticed.”

He snorts, “Damn hard not to.” 

Biting her lip she glances up at him from under long eyelashes before shaking her head. “You ever spent your whole life preparing to be one thing - only to realize you never really wanted it in the first place?”

He manages to keep his face impassive by a hairsbreadth. “I reckon I can imagine that.”

“I was… raised to be the perfect wife to someone. Be their partner, be only theirs… I never got to make any choices for myself. It was always someone else’s plan.” She pauses and stares down at her hands, “I never thought I would get to choose who my first time was with.”

“Don’t reckon you had much a choice as it was with my ass rutting on top of you.”

She gifts him with a wide smile, “Is that how you remember it?” When he doesn’t reply she continues, “If I’d told you no would you have stopped?”

“I like to think I would have but to be honest I don’t rightly know, hard to think when you’ve got a pair of tits in your face like that.”

The tension in the air breaks and she gives him a mock frown. “Excuse you, I believe it was your tits in my face.”

“And I seem to recall you were having a mite of trouble yourself with keeping your thoughts straight.”

You both break into soft laughter. Silence fills out the space for a few minutes, the only sounds the crackling of the fire.

“Thank you.”

He nearly chokes on his tongue. A dozen jokes leap to mind but she’s not meeting his eyes. He lets it sit before finally replying, “Anytime, darling.” The arch of her neck calls to him and he coughs suddenly, taking a hit of chem.

“I don’t think we should,” she says with a small frown. “It’s dangerous.”

“Shit, you take that Rad-Away yet?”

Her eyes go wide with panic and he pushes himself to his feet, squatting next to her and taking the pack she offers. She doesn’t hesitate to offer her arm, not flinching when he slides the needle in. He sets the meds above her head and flicks the tube until he’s satisfied it’s moving.

Oh, but those big bright eyes of hers are staring up at him like he hung the moon in the sky and he’s already forgotten what had him so irritated all afternoon.

“Thanks,” she says again.

“Anytime.”

He doesn’t move, hovering over her, and she doesn’t ask him to. After a moment she reaches up and tugs at his coat, pulling him to sit next to her and then leaning into his shoulder. A million different thoughts war within him before he does the thing he most wants, which is to wrap an arm around her and pull her against his side.

“Sleep,” he tells her. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[dragonmurray]

Childish Games

Pairing - Loki x F Reader

In which a bet made amongst avengers junior agents leads you to finally confronting your feelings for Loki.

Warnings - smut

“What is it you want Price?” You asked the young agent as you stood in the training room of the Avengers compound. You had just completed a round of training with a group of first years, looking to work their way up in to the field and join the ranks of full agents.

You were already there. Having excelled in all fields, you were now working with the Avengers and actively joining missions. You had quarters in the Tower and there was never any doubt that you belonged there.

“Actually it’s what I can do for you Agent. It hasn’t gone unnoticed you know” said the cocky agent. He stood next to you, arms folded across his chest, smirking down at you as you gathered the last of the equipment from the floor, ready to head home for the evening.

“Please get to your point faster Price, we all have places to be” you couldn’t wait to get back to the Tower. To sneak in to the library and catch a certain god reading. How you loved when he would read to you and tell stories of his youth. You had struck up quite a friendship. Though your heart ached for more.

“You are alone agent y/n, there’s no Mr Agent waiting for you at the tower. You never date. I bet it’s been years since you’ve been kissed. Let me change that” he gripped your arm pulling you upwards in an attempt to bring his mouth to yours. Before he could get close to your face his arm was twisted enough to bend, his legs buckling and an undignified scream escaping his lips.

“Touch me again Price and I will break you, limb by limb, molecule by molecule, until there is nothing left of you but ash and unkissable dust. Now tell me, what the hell are you doing?” You pressed him further into the cold stone floor of the training room, your knee in his spine.

Suddenly the doors to the training room flew open. Loki entered, dragging an equally terrified female trainee behind him.

“Ah, I see I am too late to rescue you Agent. Have you heard what the children are up to?” His voice dripping with malice, sending a shiver down your spine. Did nothing sound bad from his mouth?

You looked at him with confusion as you buried your feelings, once again.

“It seems they have a game being played, they each have avengers assigned to them to try and seduce into bed. This poor thing here, picked me. A clear mistake on her part. I would never lower myself to such a level”. He glared at the trainee behind him, pushing her over to her friend on the floor as you stood up. Price letting out a relived cry.

Loki’s words stung. You knew he was a God. A God couldn’t be with a mortal, why would he try.

“Spill it Price, tell me everything” you sighed. Moving to stand next to Loki, looking down at the two agents like disappointed teachers.

“It’s just a bit of fun, seeing how far we could get before the end of the year. We’ve only got 2 weeks left and you’re the only two left not to crack. You’ve never been seen with anyone so we figured we had to try” he whined rubbing his bruised arm, and ego.

“So this is all because we’re the only avengers not throwing ourselves around? Although I am surprised at Steve” you shrugged.

“He caved pretty quickly, Janine dressed up in a 40s uniform and he kissed her then cried, it was pretty sad actually” said the female agent, she looked down as she mumbled.

Loki stepped forward “I see. Well, we disappoint you then. And it’s off to bed for you two. Goodnight agents, we will leave this little failed operation between ourselves, for now” he glowered down at the two.

As he was talking, an idea was forming in your head. Slowly working it’s way to the surface.

“You know, we could end this now Loki. Take ourselves off the game cards” you said.

He slowly turned to you, his eyes shimmering with confusion.

“I mean, I don’t know about you but I don’t like being cornered by idiots. I also don’t like the reputation of never being kissed. Which isn’t true by the way” you glared at Price.

The two agents on the floor stood up, thinking they were about to win big and compete their score cards. But, before they could straighten, Loki took two strides across the room taking your face in his hands and bringing your mouths together.

You stumbled but his hand reached behind your back pressing you against him, hard. He tilted his head, his tongue asking permission to enter your mouth which you granted, still too shocked as your arms hung in the air unsure how to react.

As his tongue slid against yours, you melted. Your hands went to his chest, gripping his shirt. He moaned in to your mouth pulling you even closer to him. As if nothing was good enough, as if he needed to be one with you.

The two agents stood dumbfounded. As moans started to fill the room they made their hasty escape. Either way they had lost this round.

As the training room door slammed shut you pulled backwards gasping for breath and sanity.

“I… we… I mean..” you stuttered, with no idea what you were even trying to say.

Loki gave you a devilish smile. “Oh agent, I couldn’t agree more” he pulled you back to him slamming your lips together as you both gasped. Gripping each other and pulling at each other’s clothes.

He pushed you backwards until you hit the locker wall, instantly gripping your thighs to wrap them around his waist. You opened up for him, grinding on to him. Incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth.

“I had always pictured our first time being slow, meticulous on my part Agent, but I fear I am past the point of no return. I need to be inside you, now, I have already waited too long to show you how I feel” Loki growled into your ear as he placed kisses down your neck. Your head falling back in ecstasy.

“I didn’t hear a lot of that, my head is swimming. But if I’m correct, then take me Loki, now, please” you sighed.

A green glow worked it’s way across your bodies as your clothes melted away. His cock pressing against your dripping core as the barriers between you disappeared. You took his face in your hands forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Loki, I need you to know. To me you are always worthy. I will always chose you” overwhelmed with emotions you poured your heart out as a million fantasies finally came true.

Loki’s eyes blazed in to yours with so much emotion you couldn’t comprehend.

“Y/n. I have waited eternity for you, and I will spend eternity worshipping you”

With his declaration he pushed inside you. Both of your crying out in pleasure as he set a steady pace. You had never felt anything like this and could do nothing more than grip his shoulders as the pleasure built inside you.

He picked up the pace, burying his head in your shoulder. Kissing and biting as he speared in to you. You couldn’t hold it any longer, your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train and you screamed his name.

Loki gripped your hair to slam your mouths together as he emptied himself inside you. Both of your breaths mingling as you tried to steady your heart rates.

His forehead rested on yours as he slowly withdrew from you, setting your shaking legs on the ground but not letting you go incase you fell. The green glow clothes you both again and you held on to each other. Emotions whirling around you.

Doubt started to creep in. Was this all a heat of the moment scenario? Would he move on to the next conquest? Loki saw your eyes change and tilted your chin up to meet his eyes.

“Take my hand Agent. We are going to my chambers and we will not leave until I have worshipped every inch of your body and proved to you that you are mine” he kissed your hand and started walked towards the door pulling you with him.

A cracking sound filled the room as Tony’s voice came over the intercom “Does no one in this compound care about the cameras? My eyes are burned. Also I erased it, you’re welcome kids”

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt & Ben || John & Paul

Here’s a story. Matt Damon told it. But it’s not about Matt Damon. It’s about Bono. But it’s not really about Bono, either; it’s about Paul McCartney. But Damon heard it from Bono. One day, Bono flew into Liverpool. Paul was supposed to pick him up at the airport, and Bono was shocked when Paul picked him up at the airport alone, behind the wheel of his car. “Would you like to go on a little tour?” Paul said. Sure, Bono said, because Bono, you see, is a fan of Paul’s, in the same way that Damon is a fan of Bono’s. “Bono’s obsessed with the Beatles,” Damon said at the table in the lobby of the gated hotel in the little town in Germany. “He’s, like, a student of the Beatles. He’s read every book on the Beatles. He’s seen every bit of film. There’s nothing he doesn’t know. So when Paul stops and says 'That’s where it happened,’ Bono’s like, 'That’s where what happened?’ because he thinks he knows everything. And Paul says, 'That’s where the Beatles started. That’s where John gave me half his chocolate bar.’ And now Bono’s like, 'What chocolate bar? I’ve never heard of any chocolate bar.’ And Paul says, 'John had a chocolate bar, and he shared it with me. And he didn’t give me some of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a square of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a quarter of his chocolate bar. He gave me half of his chocolate bar. And that’s why the Beatles started right there.’ Isn’t that fantastic? It’s the most important story about the Beatles, and it’s in none of the books! And Paul tells it to Bono. Because he knows how much Bono loves the Beatles.”

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Tom Junod for Esquire (August 2013).

-

Ben Affleck and I actually had a joint bank account, and the bank account was money that we’d made doing local commercials, and we could only use it on trips to New York to audition […] If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half — that’s just the way it’s been.

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Piers Morgan for CNN (March 2011).

-

First of all, I think I should say that we pale by comparison to The Beatles. But my understanding of how [Lennon and McCartney] worked was that they would go off and work separately. Matt and I worked together in the same room most of the time, riffing off of one another’s ideas for scenes or certain lines of dialogue.

— Ben Affleck, interviewed for eDrive (February/March 1998).

-

Q: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said? JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball.

— John Lennon, interviewed by David Sheff for Playboy (September 1980).

-

[Ben and I] have been bizarrely close for a long time. You know, I was watching Get Back—the Peter Jackson documentary—and at the end of that you see the Beatles playing on the roof in London and it says, “This is the last time that they ever played together, live.” And it made me so sad to think of; because you look at them and they’re so happy! And Ben and I, I called him and said, “Look man, we were talking about doing this and it’s been 25 years or something since Good Will Hunting. What are we doing? We both kind of hit the lottery! Why aren’t we working together more often?” And after my dad passed in 2017—and Ben was very, very close with him—it’s like it changed something in us, I think. You start to see the end game and to feel like, “I want to make every second count.” I don’t want to fritter away time anymore.

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Chris Wallace for CNN (July 2023).

-

I needed to make this post because way before the Matt & Ben brainrot had the chance to set in, John & Paul had already taken complete hold of my being. And even if this hold has gentled in recent years, they nevertheless rewired my neural circuits. And thus, everything now inevitably leads back to Lennon/McCartney. One day I'll make a (probably very tinhatty) post highlighting specific parallels between Matt & Ben and John & Paul. Today is not that day.

For now, I merely wanted to marvel at how it's not only me who inevitably sees same-sex friendships and creative partnerships through the Lennon/McCartney goggles, but, being Lennon/McCartney arguably one of the most famous same-sex friendships and creative partnerships in history, they influence how other friends who are also creative partners—such as Matt and Ben—see themselves.

For example, the Chocolate Bar story. First of all, I can't believe I only realized yesterday that one of my favorite bits of Beatles lore—a story so special Paul hasn't told it anywhere else—was made public by Matt Damon (which is kind of ironic, given how private and protective he is over his own friendship with Ben). But then, it made me re-evaluate one of Matt's quotes. You see, I thought Matt saying "If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half" about him and Ben was one of those crazy coincidences I could see thanks to my Lennon/McCartney vision. Rather, Matt seems instead to be directly referencing the Chocolate Bar story, even if only a handful of people would understand the reference at the time. By drawing this comparison, a candy bar is no longer just a candy bar. It represents the founding principles of generosity and equity on which a great partnership can be built. Like John and Paul before them, Matt and Ben chose to tie their fates together and share what they had so they could make it.

And as soon as they made it, the world started comparing them to Lennon/McCartney, as we can see by Ben's quote. And it's interesting to think how the generalized perception of Lennon/McCartney at the time might have influenced how they felt about the comparison. Imagine you and your best friend/writing partner just achieved your wildest dreams. But that also means the eyes of the world are now turned on you, and your very real friendship is being used as a marketing ploy and starting to be ravenously consumed by the public. Now imagine that people start comparing you to The Beatles, and the very famous songwriting partnership at its core, Lennon/McCartney: two friends who rocketed to the toppermost-of-the-poppermost, but who broke up very acrimoniously in less than a decade. The Beatle-People will know that they deeply loved each other throughout it all, but that was not the prevailing narrative until a few years ago, when Get Back came out. So no wonder Ben's first instinct was to go "RIP to John and Paul but Matt and I are different."

And then, Get Back comes out and it makes them realize that they both are and are not different. They are not different in the sense that the pressure of fame did affect their relationship. Not to the extent of John and Paul's, whose private troubles were made public. Whatever conflicts Matt and Ben might have had throughout the years, they gracefully kept it private, which allowed their relationship to naturally heal without the press poking at the wounds. However, I do believe the intensity of the public gaze made them shy away from collaborating again. They mention working on numerous projects throughout the years (particularly after their Oscar win with Good Will Hunting), but none of these saw the light of day. And even though they say they were working so much they did not have time to write, it's odd that it took them over two decades to even co-star in another movie again. I think that, much like John and Paul in the 70s, the pressure placed on an eventual reunion was so great—both in terms of living up to their past success and of inviting all that scrutiny again—that Matt and Ben opted to remain private friends, at the sake of their creative partnership. Which makes total sense, because, like John and Paul, there's no partnership without the friendship. But this sacrifice is tragic in its own way, because the creative partnership was a big part of their friendship. Acting, writing, directing—creating—was what drew them together in the first place! It's like asking them to amputate one of the fundamental components of their relationship.

Which is why I find the last quote so incredibly moving. While watching Get Back, Matt was not only reminded of the joy of creating with his best friend—he was confronted with the preciousness of it. Because this is where Matt and Ben are most different from John and Paul: Matt and Ben have been granted the luxury of time. Unlike John and Paul, Matt and Ben could get to their 50s and realize, "What are we doing? We both kind of hit the lottery! Why aren’t we working together more often?" They could realize that they didn't give a fuck about what anyone said or thought anymore. That being together doing something they loved was more important. And so, unlike Paul, Matt got to hear his wife say that writing with Ben was the most she'd seen him laugh in many years. And Ben, unlike John, got to feel that total happiness was seeing his children every day and working with his best friend, and that there's nothing more that he wants in life. In fact, working together on Air made them feel so profoundly accomplished and realized, that both Ben and Matt thought they were about to die, since they'd apparently reached the "mountain top".

And so, it is with great joy that I await what lies in store for Ben and Matt. They have just created their own studio, Artists Equity, and are slated to collaborate in some of its future projects. Nothing will ever replace John and Paul in my heart, and their love story is ongoing in its own way; oh, but how wonderful is it to be able to witness a creative partnership and friendship whose future is still ripe with possibility! And how poetic that the tragedy of John and Paul's story played a part in ensuring that?

[megoomy]

got a request for my vesperia berseria au designs and i do have character sheets for them so: everyone is free to draw these if they want! credit is nice but, well, these all heavily reference official tales designs so i dont want to take too much credit for them lol. you can also write about the au and take any amount of what we've come up with, i really don't care, it's all for fun.

UNDER THE CUT: a vague summary of the concept. warning for Profound Self Indulgence and Somewhat Half-Assed Worldbuilding (world...changing? world editing? whatever)

okay basically flynn and yuri met as kids in a village that basically serves as the lower quarter of the au, but after spending a few years together daemons attack the village and nearly everyone dies. yuri survives, but in the process he’s become a daemon. flynn also survives, but is deeply traumatized and gets picked up by the exorcists (conveniently too late to save anyone in typical form). neither knows the other survived. to make matters worse, flynns trauma causes some memory loss…he still definitely remembers that time in the village but its very fuzzy now and as he gets older that only gets worse. and like he thinks all those people died so hes not really trying to remember them.

flynn becomes an exorcist (some flavor of legate) and is going around eradicating daemons when he runs into yuri. he doesnt recognize yuri but yuri is pretty sure he recognizes flynn. but yuri isnt about to say that when flynn is trying to kill him LOL. the general arc is that yuri keeps slipping away and flynn keeps seeing more about him in his efforts to hunt him down, realizing that this strikingly handsome strangely familiar daemon is actually...very kind? takes care of children? helps people for no gain? and this calls into question everything that he thought he understood about the world which is quite troubling.

you can think of them as similar to velvet and eleanor. but I think when flynn joins yuri it's by choice, not because yuri's forced him to be a vessel or because flynn's a spy or anything like that. or at least, he's been thrown out by the abbey for one reason or another and joins yuri instead. (we've tossed around quite a few versions of this. we love playing in the space.)

we've bounced around ideas about the rest of the cast but i only have a sheet for estelle, who is a malak controlled by the abbey ala phi. assigned to flynn, ends up with yuri one way or another. i think rita sees that malaks are people and while she wants to coordinate with them to use their strength she doesn't like how they're treated as tools (the way she feels about blastia more or less).

if you're curious about why flynn and yuri have different fates, like, in terms of lore compliance. i think yuri seeing the thing he holds most dear, the community that cared for him, destroyed in an instant, would probably fill him with malevolence no matter what, especially depending on the circumstances. (like, if the abbey was manipulating things to create daemons or therions) yuri's like...a deeply conflicted character full of self loathing, so, being a daemon really suits him. i think that malevolence would only grow as he sees the world and the abbey for what it really is. unlike someone like rose, yuri NEVER feels unconflicted about Doing Murders.

flynn in canon is pretty conflicted himself of course but i see him as similar to eleanor who can sometimes produce malevolence but has a certain purity of heart that keeps them as pretty good vessel material. nowhere near someone like sorey or rose, and definitely wouldn't have had enough resonance pre-artorius' plot to see anything. also i think the brain trauma and being picked up by the abbey leads to him having very clear purpose and a black and white view for some time, so that helps. (look, let me be real with you, half of the impetus for this au was "it would be funny if flynn had like, religious trauma")

design notes not on the sheets: - yuri's daemonblighted skin is cooler to the touch than his regular skin. but he's a guy with cold hands regardless - i've got purple highlights in his eyes but i think of them as glinting purple in the light. like an animal i guess? - yuri's outfit is mostly inspired by his spirit gear in rays, aside from his normal game canon outfit. - estelle is pulling from a lot of different abbey associated characters but mostly her own design...i didn't want to give her something weird like A FUCKING COLLAR especially bc she's not given to A WEIRDO EXORCIST but i wanted some kind of symbol of captivity so i went instead for a golden mask. pulling from the common malak's gold mask/helmets and seres' mask. in canon a lot of estelle's arc is about being sheltered so i feel like covering her eyes feels, appropriate? idk. - i think yuri still gives estelle her nickname but she wouldn't start out as estellise so its more like yuri gives her a name - you may notice she has the flame of purification (does that have a different proper name? blanking on it) which kind of implies that she's connected to innominat. please don't ask me to elaborate on that point because i literally don't know yet. i think if i were to make her a normal elementally aligned malak she'd be water like her spirit gear in rays, but it feels like she should be Special just like how she's a child of the full moon in canon. we just, haven't really figured out, does the berseria cast still exist, are we replacing them, what would that look like, etc. sorry that stuff should be more important to the concept but we are simply playing with the dolls. teehee

[art-missy]

Overwhelmed (Gekko x Reader)

Part. 1 Part. 3

Part. 2

Sorry in advance for my terrible English. I'm actually more of an English reader and listener than an actual speaker or writer. I also apologize for the dull writing style that could seem quite childish. I just wanted to test something by posting this.

If a few months ago somebody had told you that you would be spotted by a secret organization whose job is to protect your world against the threat of agents from another dimension, you would have laughed so hard that your guts would have spitted out. If that ‘somebody’ had continued with the fact that this organization would contact you in some way to recruit you just because you maybe took down a K-SEC facility by yourself and also because your skills interested them, you would have told them to sell their idea to a filmmaker. If that ‘somebody’ had then insisted that you would spend one of your days off with a few other agents of that organization by watching Disney movies and hearing them sing their guts out, you would have told them to stop.

Well, look at you now, exchanging astounded glances with Iso as Neon reached a note so terrifying that you were pretty sure she could have won the Oscar of the best scream in a horror movie. You were slightly worried about the state of her vocal cords. 

“And she’s not even drunk.” Muttered Yoru when he saw your dumbfounded expression as he finished his can of soda. Phoenix let out a booming laugh and nudged your and Iso’s arms playfully.

What the hell were you doing here ? You were so at peace in your hideout. How did Valorant find you ? Oh yeah. Cypher. No one can hide from the Moroccan sentinel and you understood it quite quickly when he appeared in each of your hideouts everytime you tried to run away. Hard to hide from someone whose eyes are literally everywhere. It has been quite hard for him too to convince you that the intentions of Valorant were noble when he appeared each time in the middle of the night like a sleep paralysis demon. The process of convincing you had been long and hard but Cypher was patient and quite stubborn. Especially when it came to visiting each of your hideouts (even the one under the Mediterranean Sea) and finishing all your different packs of tea. Well, at least you had now Big Brother as a mentor.

You jolted a little, startled when Raze and Killjoy suddenly stood up to start a duet while waltzing around the room. The level of love and affection in their eyes made you wonder if they weren't from a Disney movie themselves. You could literally see their eyes changing form to turn into hearts as their souls were screaming ‘I love you’ in their respective languages. And you found it adorable despite your exhaustion.

Jett playfully threw some popcorn at the couple, telling them to get a room. You’re pretty sure she didn't notice the few candy and crumbs of snacks in her ponytail. 

Clove were jumping on the different bean bag chairs, singing as if their life depended on it while Wingman cheered at their antics.

And you, you let out a small sigh as you took a sip of your bubbletea. All this chaos because of Frozen.

You swore that if you heard the songs ‘Love is an open door’ or ‘Let it go’ again, you would go apeshit.

You maybe should have join Deadlock for a reading session in her quarters instead of accepting Gekko’s invitation. Or just listening to music in your room. Or maybe drawing. You were certain that it would have been more peaceful and less mentally draining than this Disney night. And when you shared another glance with Iso, you knew he thought the same thing. It was visibly way too much for your introverted asses.

“Hey,” Gekko put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay ?”

You shot him a tired look. 

You sometimes miss your old life. You missed your different hideouts where you could see the sunset over the mountains, the sea creatures under the Mediterranean Sea, the snow in the Siberian desert or the rain falling on the trees of a random forest. Where you didn't have to interact with people every single day of the week.

You loved the Valorant protocol and you got along with the people you met there. But sometimes it was too much. You took down this K-SEC facility because you knew how shady the experimentations they were running were, not because you wanted to attract the attention of a secret organization. You sometimes resented Cypher for finding you, for stealing you from these calm moments, even though you knew that you accepted to be an agent of Valorant of your own free will and for a good cause. 

“Hey,” Repeated Gekko. “Are you okay ?”

You gently pushed his hand off your shoulder and stood up from your bean bag chair.

“Sorry.” You muttered.

And you rushed out of the room as Gekko called for you, his tone full of worry. You speed-walked towards the garden of the base, putting your headphones on your ears and slightly relaxing when the music reached your brain. You took a deep breath and the wind caressed your skin as you finally walked into the gardens. You took off your shoes and let the grass tickle your bare feet. The night sky watched over you as you finally took a seat on a bench.

Better.

You felt better. You breathed better. You lived better. The music in your ears relaxed your muscles, and the wind murmured on your skin, bringing the fragrance of the different flowers of the garden. You definitely had to compliment Sky and Sage. 

Your phone suddenly vibrated and you noticed that Iso sent you a link to a playlist. 

⟨Here. To relax your nerves.⟩

You internally smiled and sent a text message to the Chinese duelist to thank him. You started the playlist and relaxed even more when the first note of the first song reached your ears. Iso really did have good taste in music.

You were about to close your eyes when you suddenly felt a finger patting your shoulder. You jolted a little and turned your head to the side to see Cypher’s blue lenses staring back at you. You pulled your headphones down and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Big Brother is watching me ?” 

The sentinel let out a small chuckle and sat down beside you, a trap wire traveling on his knuckles.

“Overwhelmed ?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I thought I was Big Brother.”

You rolled your eyes but a small smile tugged the corners of your lips. You leaned on the backrest of the bench and let out a deep sigh.

“I’m not in the mood for a game of chess, Cypher.” 

The masked man nodded and hummed softly.

“I suspected it.”

“Then why are you here, Optimus Prime ?” You groaned, stretching your arms over your head.

Cypher’s head tilted slightly and by his body language you suspected a smirk to be present under his mask.

“To check on you, dear.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow and your eyes squinted slightly.

“Right. And may I ask why, dear ?” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes again. “Wait. Let me guess. You saw me walking away from the common room through these cute little cameras of yours, got curious when you couldn't see me then came here.” You interrupted yourself then shook your head. “Nope. There are also cameras in the garden. Then why did you come here ?”

Cypher let out another small chuckle and patted your head with an odd but paternal affection. 

“Look who’s playing Sherlock, now.” 

You let out an annoyed groan as you tried to push his hand away from your head but Cypher’s mood stayed playful.

“What kind of mentor would I be if I didn't worry about my protégé ?”

You snorted but nodded with a sarcastic smile.“More of a stalker than a mentor.” 

“A stalker who is worried about you, then.”

You couldn't see it but you heard the soft smile in his voice. He leaned a bit more towards you, the brim of his long hat hid you from the night sky and the usual faint glow of his blue lenses looked like two little will-o’-the-wisps in the obscurity of the garden. It reminded you of the first time you met each other, a few days after you took down this K-SEC facility. It was in a dark alleyway and the first thing you saw was these blue lenses before you could make out his long and slender figure. But because of his long hat and the darkness of the alleyway, you had almost taken him for a mutated palm tree. Even today you facepalmed yourself when you remembered those thoughts as your eyes stared into his lenses.

“Who eats alone, chokes alone.” He finally whispered with a conspiratorial tone. Something was telling you that he winked under his mask.

“What ?” You facepalmed.

“It’s an Arabic proverb.” He leaned back and his head tilted again. “Loneliness is neither your ally, nor your enemy. It is impartial. In your case, you use it to recharge yourself, but it can also drain you without you noticing, making you depend on it. Use your loneliness but don’t be alone.” His voice dropped a few octaves lower and you felt his eyes sinking deeply into yours. “Use your balance.”

Something was telling you that he was speaking from experience. A slight twitch in his body language maybe. Or a tiny heaviness in his already thick accent, indication of the unusual emotions in his voice. And you realized just now how little you knew about your mentor.

Cypher nodded, as if satisfied by your visible confusion, stood up from the bench and started to walk away.

“Wait a minute, Darth Vader !” You exclaimed, pointing a frustrated finger at him. “I don't speak proverbial shit and neither does google translate. Come back here or I’ll tell Sky you put cameras in the garden !”

Cypher kept walking away, humming a soft tune.

“Speaking of balance…”

“I don’t understand the proverbial shit, you cheap Cyberpunk shit !”

“Have a good night, dear.” He turned towards you briefly. “Oh, and your strawberry teas are delicious.”

This fucker.

He kept walking away until going back inside and you suddenly heard hurried footsteps. You turned your head and saw Gekko and Wingman running in your direction before stopping in front of you. 

How did you know it was Gekko with the lack of light ? First of all, Wingman. Second of all, his hair.

Gekko was catching his breath with his hands on his knees while Wingman jumped on your lap, making a few garbling sounds. You raised an eyebrow and looked at them, confused.

“Are you dying ?” You asked Gekko and your eyes widened slightly when he started to wheeze. “Gekko ?”

“Dios !” He exclaimed as he finally caught his breath. “I looked for you throughout the whole base !”

“Did you have to run a marathon for that ?” 

Despite your dry tone, your eyes only showed concern for him. You patted the space beside you on the bench and he gladly sat down. He then looked at you and despite the obscurity, you were certain his brows furrowed in worry.

“Are you okay ?”

You shot him a deadpanned look.

“You put your legs through a nocturnal torture by running like a possessed fool throughout the whole base, found me here relaxing in the garden while the soft fragrance of flowers and the night sky kept me company, and ended up wheezing like a dying man about to spew his lungs out and you are asking me if I’m okay ?” 

You looked at his figure from head to toe as he chuckled at your small outburst. He was still a bit out of breath from his little run but he seemed quite fine.

“Damn ! Your descriptions are always so…special. Clove would definitely love you to be the Dungeon Master of their next DnD game.” His laugh calmed down and he nervously cleared his throat. “Anyway. I wanted to check on you. You didn't seem fine in the common room. Are you feeling a bit better now ?”

You shot him a bored look and let a deep sigh out of your lungs. Wingman made a few high chirped noises indicating his worry.

“You really love wasting your time, don’t you ?” Your eyes wandered on the night sky. “Aren't you missing the end of the movie ? Shouldn't you be inside with your friends ?”

Gekko frowned and looked at you funny.

“You’re my friend too.”

You let out a small snort that only deepened his frown.

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “We’re maybe not as close as you are with Cypher or Deadlock or… Iso, but I see you as my friend and I will always have your back.”

You looked back at him and even though you couldn't see him clearly because of the obscurity, you felt his eyes looking at you with a fierce determination.

“Plus,” he continued, “you always have my back on the field, fighting like a total badass against the enemies. Remember our last mission in Lotus ? I would have been dead meat if you weren't there.”

Wingman (who had gotten comfy on your lap) nodded with vehemence, agreeing with Gekko’s words.

“I’m not quite sure if you can be ‘dead meat’ when someone like Sage is around.” You said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Gekko made a noise between an amused chuckle and a sigh of frustration. You couldn't figure out what was on his mind, which is quite surprising since he was usually so expressive. He then suddenly got closer to you on the bench, grabbed your shoulders and leaned a bit more towards you.

“My point is : you got my back and I got yours. You're my friend and I won’t leave you alone.” His fingers gently squeezed your shoulders. “And I’m sorry.”

It was now your turn to frown as you did not understand why he was apologizing for.

“I invited you to this movie night so I could have an occasion to get to know you better, so we could get to know each other and bond on something that is not mission related.” He explained. “But you clearly weren't at ease. I thought you were about to have a panic attack, back there.”

You felt his thumbs caressing your shoulders as his hands squeezed you a bit more tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head and let out another sigh. “Don’t apologize. Your intentions were innocent and sweet.”

You couldn't see the blush on his cheeks but you noticed the slight twitch in his body language.

“Everything's fine.” You insisted. “I’m perfectly fine. Plus, with the new playlist Iso sent me, I can just relax and enjoy the quietude of the garden.”

“Oh.” He said simply.

His voice showed disappointment, sadness even. You vaguely felt his grip on your shoulder faltering a little while Wingman made a few sad garbling sounds.

“Gekko ?”

You couldn't see his face, but his body language showed a slight dispiritedness that didn't match his usual playful and confident personality.

“You and Iso are really close, huh.” He said with an uncharacteristically neutral tone.

His shoulders were now slightly slumped.

“Well, we had heard about each other before we joined Valorant. It was funny to finally meet the infamous ‘Dead Lilac’ in this secret organization.” You chuckled a little, finding the circumstances of your first meeting with the Chinese duelist quite embarrassing. You remembered knocking your head so hard against his chest that it spinned a little.

“That’s…uhm…kinda cute, I guess.”

You wondered what was on the mind of the piece of sweet-woman-heartthrob-trope that Gekko was.

“Well I don't know if it’s cute, but we’ve been exchanging playlists and book recommendations since.” You shrugged and Gekko’s hands slided down your arms at your action. “He’s cool. He has a sweet ‘older sibling’ vibe that put me at ease.”

The young initiator seemed to perk at your words and so was his radivore critter.

“‘Older sibling’ vibe ?” He repeated. “What do you mean ?”

“Well, you see how siblings sometimes banter with each other but always have each other's back ?” You started to explain and you saw his figure tilting his head. “Well that's our relationship with Iso. You probably know what I’m talking about. I noticed that you had quite the same thing with Neon.” You shrugged again.

His whole demeanor seemed to relax when he let out a laugh filled with relief. You frowned a little, not understanding this sudden outburst of joy.

“You alright ?” You raised a worried eyebrow and squinted your eyes a little. “Maybe you should get some sleep.”

It was at this moment that the moon finally decided to come out of behind the clouds, illuminating both of your faces. You both looked at each other, admiring your features. Your eyes wandered on his freckles without noticing his lovestruck gaze on you. 

“Maybe I'm a bit tired.” He whispered with a lost tone, as if he didn't understand what he just said.

“Hm.” You looked down on your lap to notice Wingman shrinking and hopping towards Gekko’s shoulder. “Wanna go back inside ?”

“You’re going back inside ?” Gekko asked.

“No.”

“Then I’ll stay with you.” He got more comfortable on the bench and you felt him lean a bit more towards you. “Unless my presence is overwhelming.”

You shook your head and leaned against the backrest of the bench. 

“No. You’re fine.”

“Cool.” He nodded and let out a small sigh of relief.

A comfortable silence settled between you, slightly disturbed by the faint music from your headphones. Your eyes wandered on the night sky, unaware of Gekko’s longing glances in your direction. You were completely oblivious to his poor heart beating so fast and so loud that he feared you could hear it. You did not notice. You never did. Ever since you set your foot into the base for the first time, his eyes were always on you. At first it was curiosity. Curious about the agent recommended by the mysterious man that was Cypher. Then it was admiration for the fierce fighter that you turned into once on the field. And finally, it bloomed to be a small crush that never ceased to grow. Your charisma hypnotized him. His feelings for you were so obvious that his friends never stopped to tease him. Even Reyna said that he looked like a lost puppy everytime you were around and Harbor often asked him to focus when you were in his field of view. And of course, he was jealous of how close Iso was with you. The duelist could talk to you without any problem, he could receive your smiles, your laughs, your friendly fist-bumps while the only times Gekko could have a proper interaction with you was during missions or briefings. Even during training you stayed in your corner, avoiding interactions.

But right now, he felt so happy. This was the longest interaction you’ve ever had with each other and he couldn't help but smile.

He turned his head in your direction and softly called you.

“Yeah ?”

“I heard that you love to draw.” He nervously rubbed his neck but kept his eyes on yours. “We could someday, you know, draw together while chilling in my room. If it’s okay with you of course.”

You shot him an indescribable glance and he suddenly felt so stupid for not using drawing as a way to bond with you sooner instead of the movie night. But he relaxed a little when you ended up shrugging.

“Why not.”

It was a start. He will not confess his feelings for now. It was way too soon. But he will certainly enjoy these moments with you. He will enjoy bonding with you and get to know you better.

Anecdote : the Arabic proverb mentioned by Cypher is something the father of a friend once told me when I was a kid. It's stuck in my mind, ever since.

I'm not proud of the ending ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ But it's fine. It is just a test, after all.

I don't know if I'll post the part. 2. I'll most probably keep it in my drafts.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I wish you a lovely day/night.