#sora reader insert

[strawwritesfic]

Sora x Female!Queen!Reader: Deception

Summary: A queen must be many things, but above all she must be true to her heart.

Rating/Tags: All (not anti-Kairi; not canon compliant; magic user!reader; party member!reader; Sora & Donald & Goofy; Sora & Donald & Goofy & Reader; shippers on deck; love confession; mutual crushing; fluff)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Notes: I wrote this, like, the week Kingdom Hearts III came out without having played it myself. Thus, it’s intended to be set during Kingdom Hearts II. But there really aren’t any game-specific details in here, so depending on whether you prefer young!Sora, zippers!Sora, or plaid!Sora, you can really just pick whatever game you want to set this during (that he is in, I mean...obviously this doesn’t work for Birth by Sleep).

Deception

When the morning sun pushed its way over the horizon at last, you could wait no longer. Your sleepless night had come to an end. Without bothering to wait for someone to dress you or guard you—activities you had done by necessity yourself up until very recently—you left your quarters in swift silence. No one stopped you on your way to the throne room, which allowed you to slip inside it undetected.

The cavernous space plunged into darkness as the doors shut behind you. A few seconds later, a fist-sized fireball floated above your outstretched palm. In its dim light, you made your slow way up the long, thin carpet and up to the raised dais it led to. There you ran your free hand across the gleaming arm of the empty throne. Your father’s throne. Your throne, now.

Your flame flickered as tears sprung to your eyes. You quickly rubbed them away. Today was no day for tears. After so long fighting the Heartless, your kingdom was won. Today you were to be properly introduced to the populace as their queen. No longer was the princess away at war, but there to stay as their benevolent ruler. They needed to see you driven and calm, not mourning what was lost during those years of darkness.

“Your majesty.”

You spun on the spot, fire glowing hotter than ever, only to find no threat waiting behind you. A familiar older man bowed where he stood just a few feet away: Cassius, your captain of the guard. 

So he had followed you after all. It would be some time before you grew used to being watched and protected again.

“Yes?” you said, a little awkwardly.

“You have visitors. The three men from before.”

Your heart sank. So soon? But better to say your goodbyes before everyone else arrived for the coronation. You only hoped you could do what you needed to do without the time you had counted on to mentally prepare for it.

“Send them in,” you said, and clapped your fireball in between your hands. It vanished just as every torch in the room lit up with fires of their own. 

Cassius nodded, then he disappeared back through the double doors that led into the hall. 

You sat on your throne to wait. Resisting the temptation to run your hands up and down its arms again was difficult—but a queen must not be nervous.

In the minutes that followed, you attempted to quash your nerves. You had escaped the coup that killed the rest of your family, learned the magic your parents had despaired of you ever knowing, and defeated your monstrously transformed aunt to bring light back to your world. How hard could it be to say goodbye in comparison to all of that?

Harder than all of them put together, you realized when the doors opened again and you caught a flash of Sora’s smile. The closer he drew, the harder your pulse hammered in your throat. By the time the trio stood before you, you almost felt faint.

“Your majesty!” they said, bowing as one. You tried to swallow away your emotions before the three straightened.

“Sora. Donald. Goofy.” You smiled at each of them in turn. “You bow to no one here. Certainly not to me.”

“Sounds good to me!” said Donald.

“But we have to be respectful,” Goofy chimed in. “You’re the queen now. A-hyuk!”

This was what you had feared the most. The three of them had been your closest companions since their arrival on your world. Without their help, your kingdom would still be under the control of the Heartless. Now that it wasn’t, your true place was revealed. They were no longer your cherished friends. They were subjects just like everyone else. You ached at the loss of Donald and Goofy’s casual antics, but feared more the loss of the boy standing between them.

Sora, however, looked at you with the same sparkling blue eyes as always. “You know, I always thought queens were supposed to wear a crown,” he said.

With a gasp, you reached for the top of your head. You felt nothing there but hair. “I guess I forgot to put it on this morning,” you said with a sheepish smile. “You’ll see it this afternoon at the ceremony.”

All three exchanged looks you liked not at all. Donald opened his beak first, but Sora spoke before he could:

“We aren’t going to make it to the ceremony.”

Your fingers curled against the arms of your throne. “Why not?”

“The Keyblade says it’s time to go. There are other worlds that need our help.”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t just your world that was overcome by darkness. You knew that. You also knew that you couldn’t be selfish. Sora was the only remaining keyblade-wielder, and he had an obligation to rescue more than just you.

Goofy leaned over toward Donald’s head. “You know, I think we should go look at the Gummi ship. Make sure it’s ready to leave,” he said in a stage whisper.

“What?” Donald squawked. Then he saw Goofy’s pointed look from Sora to you, and rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right.”

After many glances backward, Donald left with Goofy. You supposed you ought to have appreciated the latter’s tact, but the last thing you wanted just then was to be alone with Sora. It was difficult for you to even look at him knowing that you would never get to do so after he left.

“I’m sorry we can’t stay,” he said, his brow furrowed with uncharacteristic worry.

“It’s okay. You’ve got other princesses to rescue.”

“You really did most of the rescuing yourself.”

His wide grin sent electricity running up your limbs. You were never going to see that smile again. At first, that same smile—along with Sora’s unflappable cheer and optimism—had irritated you, especially in the face of several dozen Neoshadows. Its light had grown on you, though, and now you didn’t want to imagine a life without its presence. 

But you had to. Sora didn’t belong to you. He had his own world to return to. What were you supposed to do? Tell him you’d thought—after your aunt and her army destroyed everyone you cared for—you wouldn’t love anyone again and that he’d proven you wrong? That you had been so consumed with revenge and loneliness that if he hadn’t arrived when he did, that you’d have been a Heartless by then, too? That you couldn’t have become queen without him and you didn’t think you could be one at all if he were gone? 

No. On his own world, he had his own girl, his own princess. A queen must not be selfish.

Sora stepped up onto the dais, and you stiffened. He didn’t appear to notice. His arms went behind his head in a typical gesture of friendly nonchalance.

“You know, I was thinking,” he said, “maybe we could come back and visit in a little while. The Heartless can’t win forever. Once they’re gone, I can come see you again.”

“No.” The word came out of your mouth before you could stop it. 

Sora looked as though you’d shot one of your fire spells right at his face. Guilt surged through your stomach, but you pushed it away. What did you have to feel sorry for? He had a job to do, and so did you. Too many people were relying on your both—not to mention that no matter how much you loved Sora, you didn’t want to take him from Kairi. He’d spoken too highly of her for him to have any feelings left over for you.

You took a deep breath and tried again: “No. I’ll be far too busy. There’s so much I have to learn and so much we have to repair. I just don’t have the time, and I’m sure you’ll be busy, too.”

Sora’s expression of shock turned into a frown. “I guess you’re right.”

“I don’t want to keep you.”

“Okay.” Still frowning, he stepped away from your throne. He hesitated before offering you one last, shallow bow. “Goodbye, [Name]. You’re going to be an great queen. You’re the bravest, most amazing girl I’ve ever known.”

What that, he turned to go. He didn’t look back. Your innards twisted as you watched him near the doors. Once Sora stepped through them, he would be gone from your life forever. You would never see him again. He would see a million worlds and never know that one of the girls he’d left behind longed for his return. 

That was for the best, wasn’t it? Someday Destiny Islands would call him back. They needed him more than you did. A queen must not be selfish.

“Sora, wait!”

He looked around just in time to catch you as you sprinted for him. His arms went around you automatically, and his familiar laugh rumbled against your face as you pressed yourself to his chest.

“What’s all this about?” he asked.

When you pulled away from him, tears were leaking from your eyes. You didn’t care. You didn’t care if you were being silly or selfish or snobby. Sora was going to leave, but unlike your family, he could come back, if he wanted to. He never would if you didn’t tell him the truth. Maybe it would come to nothing. Maybe he really did love Kairi. All you knew was that  you simply couldn’t let him walk out of your life as easily as he’d entered it.

“I—I…” By then, you were crying openly. “Please come back! Please come see me again. Sora, I…I…”

He pulled you closer into a tight embrace. “I will. I love you, too.”

That was when Donald burst in.

“Oops,” said the duck, in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t sorry at all for the interruption.

“Sorry, Sora.” Goofy stuck his head in, too. “It’s time to go.”

Reluctantly, you disentangled yourself from Sora’s hug. 

He just smiled again and stepped toward his friends. “That’s okay. [Name]?”

“Yes?”

His smile widened. “I’ll see you again really soon.”

“I’m glad. Stay safe.”

He left with a final, cheerful wave. 

Shortly after, Cassius returned to ask why you remained in your nightclothes. When you attended to your chambers to allow your lady-in-waiting to dress you for the coronation, you noticed that much of the anxiety that had kept you awake all night was gone. 

The road before you remained difficult and long, but you knew you could handle it. After all, you’d been honest with the boy you loved. For now, through every meeting, through every lesson, through every painful memory, you could go on knowing that Sora never lied. He’d be seeing you again really soon. And when he did, you'd be ready to be completely honest with him.

[discodreaming]

May I please request headcanons for Sora, Riku, and Axel dating a famous female singer and reacting to her performing on stage with a male singer that she’s close to?

characters: sora x reader, riku x reader, axel x reader

genre: modern au / famous au

content notes: female reader ( afab reader ), like a smidgen of jealousy and insecurity

AXEL

truth be told axel is out here vibing bc god damn that's his girl up there in that sexy outfit and singing like that!

his eyes are completely on you and you alone

he likes your friend... kind of... a smidge maybe he's on thin ice with axel some days but he gets along with him for you

now throughout the times you guys are like pressed together he's like filled with so many mixed emotions like he knows it means nothing but it's also like excuse you??????

( bonus ramble: axel to me is probably gonna be like god my gf is fucking hot while watching you move in that outfit and sing bc lbr here he's a bit smug bc he does know you're gonna go home with him after this. he just doesn't like your friend sometimes with how touchy he does get with you, like sir back up?? he ignores that when he gives you the biggest fucking kiss back stage )

SORA

sora is dramatic but he's not gonna ruin your night or performance over it

sora can't help but both think you look so damn good but also can't help but like rolls his eyes whenever you guys get close to each other

it's this one who is sulking about the performance

sora would have much rathered you two be pressed close that way bc he can't help but feel that little green monster rearing its ugly head

( bonus: sora is torn between sulking and excitement. he denies being jealous so damn vehemently when you ask him if he's jealous and this boy is like laughing and denying it a bit but you can see how his cheeks flush and how much of a LIAR he is and he only starts to sulk when you tell him he's such a liar when you kiss his cheek but that's okay bc he's over it real quick as he's suddenly very !!!! and just all out praising you while touching your hands and some of the clothing to just be !!)

RIKU

he does not like your best friend he will not like your friend but he believes you in him being a friend so he's cordial

he legit just needs to get to know him he's riku

he's jealous, he's angie, but god damn if he's not gonna stare at you the entire show

now he's like not usually clingy but for this imma say he is just slightly at your back while u talk to ur friends

( bonus: an unbothered ( very bothered ) king as he gives your friend a smug look over your head when you run to hug him once he reaches back stage. every ounce of jealousy and irritation melting away instantly as he hugs you tight in his grip and land a big kiss on you as he praises and hypes you up in his own riku way as he showers you in kisses )

authors note: im ngl it's been a while since i wrote for them so i genuinely apologize if it's like N o

im also apologizing bc it took me so long to get out I'm sorry

[sanctuary-kingdomhearts]

(Y/n): Sora manages to be both the cute and the hot sibling at the same time.

(Y/n): It spurs my inferiority complex to admit it, but hey, at least I’m the smart one.

(Y/n): …

(Y/n): right..?

(Y/n): Sora isn’t some kind of master strategist twenty steps ahead of everyone else, manipulating us behind the scenes, is he?

*Sora, trying to push open a door that says pull*

(Y/n): oh yeah, no, I’m safe.

[nobodies-png]

Destiny Trio - Love Languages

Headcanons and analysis on Sora, Kairi and Riku's love languages and the way they show their appreciation.

I started writing a draft with this very same prompt for the orgxiii but my god, i forgot how time consuming it is to write for 14 people all at once without repeating myself too much

so i'm taking a break from that by doing the exact same thing with less characters lmfao

Giving: Acts of Service, Physical Touch

Receiving: Gifts, Quality Time

[Acts of Service]

Sora is a bleeding heart through and through, so it makes sense to me that his first and foremost love language is acts of service - one way or another, he's always doing things for the sake of others, both big and small. Without a doubt, Sora is the type of person who would gladly give you the world and ask for nothing in return.

Because he's willing to help anyone, it's extremely easy to see Sora as gullible, naive and easy to take advantage of. And that might've been true when he was younger! However, those closest to him know about that stubborn streak of his: every day, Sora wakes up and actively chooses kindness over everything else.

This intense mindset is what drives him forward, it's also what makes Sora so reliable. No matter the situation, he'll always be there for those he cares about.

He'll be there if you need someone to help you with chores or to keep you company during sleepless nights, telling you all about his adventures until you fall asleep. He's the one staying behind on the island, looking for that good luck charm Kairi gave you, the one you lost while playing on the beach. The second he hears you're sick, or lonely, or feeling bad in general, he's at your doorstep calling out your name, so that you can tell him how to help. To him, the best feeling is knowing that his loved ones are cared for and safe, that they don't have to worry about anything.

And because he makes friends wherever he goes, it means he has many, many connections. If he can't help you out directly, then chances are he knows someone who absolutely can.

Out of the group, the one who gets carried away the most is Sora. So in this case, acts of service is a double-edged sword - he'll stop at nothing to help others or to do what he believes will soothe their pain, even if it means sacrificing himself for it.

One of my favorite portrayals of Sora is seeing how years of being "the chosen one" affected him while growing up, to the point where he doesn't see any alternatives to martyrdom because he's so used to carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. So whenever he wants to show someone that he cares, he does it through acts of service because - in his eyes - there's nothing else that he can offer other than being helpful and fixing what's wrong. Because he's supposed to being the one to save everything and everyone.

[Physical Touch]

This love language isn't as loaded as the previous one - Sora is just a naturally touchy-feely, clingy person!

He's usually leaning or touching his friends and loved ones in some manner, either by having an arm around their shoulders, holding their hand, linking arms, leaning on them, etc... You name it! Hell, this isn't even limited to people Sora knows or cares about, because he'll also be pretty friendly and casually affectionate with people he just met.

His welcoming aura, paired with the incredible hugs he gives, makes Sora an absolute machine when it comes to getting people to eventually drop their guard, no matter how hesitant they may be towards physical contact. The main example to this is Riku!

Of course, if confronted directly about boundaries and such, Sora would respect them to the best of his ability and make it an habit of asking for permission before doing anything.

Also I lied, there is a bittersweet tone to Sora's affections.

It might not seem like it, since he's extremely casual with physical touch, it means a lot to him. In a way, being able to reach out to people, know they're right there next to him, that he can actually hug them, helps ground Sora.

I imagine he becomes even clingier over the years, a side-effect to constantly losing his best friends and all the people he's befriended in his journeys. One would expect physical touch to be a love language he likes to receive instead of give, but it all ties back to Sora's inability to let himself be cared for.

Perhaps he re-contextualizes it as him letting others know that he'll always be there, that they're the ones who can reach out for him and he'll actually be there - as opposed to him needing their presence to feel whole and calm. Who knows!

Giving: Gifts, Words of Affirmation

Receiving: Acts of Service, Quality Time

[Gifts]

Kairi is also very openly affectionate with her loved ones, but she shows how much she cares about them through gifts.

Typically, she tries to get small, cute and useful things to her friends - perhaps erasers shaped like fun animals, hair clips to keep the hair out of your face or some scrunchies, sometimes it's things she knows you've been eyeing for awhile. Sometimes it's matching lunchboxes! Kairi is extremely attentive to her surroundings and those around her, so her gifts tend to come in at just the right moment. Like Sora, she likes to make the lives of her loved ones a bit easier and more colorful.

Her love for lucky charms and trinkets is known by almost everyone on the islands, but contrary to popular belief, Kairi only makes them for very special occasions - they're very meaningful gifts for her, after all! In her words, if she were to give everyone she knows one, they would lose all their magic.

Like the ones she gives to Sora, these charms are meant to represent a promise between her and her loved ones - that you'll come back safe and sound to her, that you'll never forget her. Because Kairi is used to being the one left behind, these charms are a way for her to be with all the people she has to say goodbye to, even if its just a very small part of her.

It also goes without saying that Kairi always gives the best gifts during any event that requires them, like Secret Santas, special holidays, birthdays and so on. Even if you don't know what type of gift you'd like, she'll figure it out. It's almost scary!

I also like to think that she's quite good at arts and crafts (and that's why Naminé is so artistic) as well as writing, so she'd include very heartfelt notes with her gifts.

[Words of Affirmation]

In KH2, we see that Kairi was very eager to start protecting Sora and Riku in return instead of staying by the sidelines, the culmination of all those themes about being left behind over and over - so I like to think that words of affirmation is Kairi's secondary love language because it's more of a skill she's had to develop over the years.

She was rarely allowed the chance to do anything for herself, but she knows that people will listen to her words, if that makes sense?

Like, let's be honest: as close as the Destiny Trio might be, growing up with two boys who will constantly fight for your attention is kind of tiring - the amount of mediating Kairi has had to do from a young age is amazing. So that awareness, paired with the fact that she was adopted by the mayor of the islands, made Kairi very aware of the effect her words would have on people, whether she liked it or not.

She's always been kind and considerate, but her words tend to be a little sweeter because of this whole thing. Whenever she sees someone in need of a listening ear, she'll be very gentle, allowing the other party to steer the conversation to whatever they're comfortable discussing with her.

Her advice is always solid, but it might feel a little distant to some, like she's specifically choosing to say the safest things for your situation.

This is something she outgrows as she becomes older, the current Kairi doesn't have to suppress her own stubbornness anymore, after all - she calls it how she sees it, and might tease you from time to time, but she always make sure that you feel heard, seen and cared for, passionately talking about how much you inspire her.

And this is also where her letters come into play! It's way easier for her to put thoughts and feelings into a letters or notes, because she does get flustered over rambling and gushing so much about her loved ones.

Giving: Acts of Service, Quality Time

Receiving: Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch

[Acts of Service]

Riku is a stark contrast to Sora and Kairi, he struggles with being as openly affectionate - both verbally and physically - as them, which leaves him with two love languages that don't necessarily focus on either of those two things.

He shares acts of service with Sora, but Riku helps those he cares about specifically to repay all the kindness and patience he's been shown. And in this aspect, he's more similar to Kairi - instead of grand gestures, both prefer to do little things to make others happy.

In fact, Riku doubles down on this. He's proud to know others rely on him, whenever someone might approach to ask him for help, but he greatly prefers helping from the shadows (less embarrassing and less chances to get flustered that way). He'll wake up early to make breakfast or make whatever necessary preparations for the day, just so that you can take a few extra minutes in bed. If you need to run errands, he's most likely taken care of half of them already so that you only have half of the work left.

To differentiate him more from Sora: Sora is on your doorstep the second he finds out you're sick, but Riku is most likely the reason you never got sick in the first place because he's probably been fussing about you wearing enough layers.

One thing I love to headcanon about Riku is that he's great at everything and anything - as long as he's doing it for someone else. He'll put in the extra effort if needed, but really he'll only succeed if his motivation is helping someone he cares about. And because he makes sure that no one sees his failures (if possible), it makes Riku come across as this perfect guy, which is most likely what fueled his rivalry with Sora when they were kids.

[Quality Time]

Because of the chaotic life he's led, Riku appreciates the quiet moments even more.

Whenever he feels restless, or whenever he sees his loved ones stressed and in need of a break, Riku won't hesitate to pull them away from their responsibilities into an impromptu date. You will hang out with him and you will relax or so help him.

Like every person native to Destiny Islands, his first instinct is to seek the nearest body of water (if the ocean isn't that easy to get to). An empty beach, river or lakeside on a sunny day is the perfect way to relax - whether you want to swim around, walk along the shore, or just dip your feet into the water and talk until the sun sets.

He's never been one for large crowds or huge outings with dozens of friends, so one-on-one time is perfect for someone like Riku. If you ever need someone to just sit with you in absolute silence, you can count on Riku to be there for you. If you need that to be a daily or weekly occurrence, he'll set up seven alarms to make sure he's never late.

You'll get to see Riku's most vulnerable side, when he trusts you enough to show that he genuinely wants to be closer to you - even if all you two do is talk about groceries, what you'd like to do next week or to show you the funny shit Kairi and Sora text him when half-asleep. He'll stumble over his words at times, apologize for the smallest of things that you never even noticed or thought were an issue, like getting a little sassy and regretting it instantly because what if you weren't as close as he thought you were, etc.

All in all, under all those layers of nonchalance and effortless perfection, Riku is one huge mess, but he trusts you enough to know that. And he'd be over the moon to know you also trusted him enough to lower your guard around him.

[elvenxwarrior]

Kingdom Hearts - Sora - N|S|F|W Headcanons

Masterlist

You can also find these posted on my AO3!

MINORS DNI.

👑 Sora gets so addicted to the feeling of being inside you that he will fuck you BOTH into over-sensitivity.

👑 Man is LOUD. Like Jesus Christ, make sure no one is in the vicinity because they WILL hear him.

👑 Despite Sora's softboi™️ behaviour, he has a dirty mouth in the bedroom - both dirty talking and he swears a lot.

👑 Sora will beg to cum inside you.

👑 “Please, please, please, please- [Name]. I'm so close- I'm gonna cum, please can I? Inside you?"

👑 Obviously, he is respectful if you say no.

👑 Will thank you before cumming if you say yes, but will pull out and cum between your bodies if you say no.

[crisiscutie]

A Flirt with Death

Pairing: Reader/KH Sephiroth. Reader is AFAB.

Summary: You've always loved a dance with death when it came to Sephiroth. Your recent conflict with him has taken a twist you never expected.

Word Count: 832

Ratings: Slight NSFW, Fighting, Power dynamics. Sadist Sephiroth and Masochist Reader. 

Don’t fool yourself, you’re not fighting Sephiroth to become better or to prove something. All you wanted was to be close to him, to savor the energy of his dark presence. And Sephiroth wanted to kill time while he waited for Cloud. Best of both worlds. You giggled as you felt the vibrations from his Masamune as it nearly cut your hair. If he landed that move, it would’ve made a bloody scene. You used your Keyblade to block another attack from him. A chill ran through the air as you sent out a Blizzaga spell to restrain his movement. He shrugged off the attack and fired off a series of dark orbs at you.

You were not tempting fate; you were courting disaster. He was toying with you and you knew it. He had the power to end this charade here and now. So you knew you had to keep him amused. An overwhelming sense of joy and excitement filled your heart. Is this the darkness your master warned you about? You gracefully dodged each orb thrown at you, executing the precise evasive techniques your master taught you. 

 It makes sense. You engaged in a blood sport just to interact with an alluring and mysterious man who can end you in seconds. When he first appeared, you were terrified. He almost killed you. Your dread weighed your body down and prevented you from moving initially... But you’ve grown so much since then. Gradually, you found yourself drawn back to him. Was it the way his lips curled whenever he smirked at you? That always sent shivers down your back. The pain he caused you was a strange combination of agony and ecstasy, too. Taking risks was never your style, but here you stood, flirting with danger. Damn your teenage wiles. Whenever he wasn't around, his absence was like a gaping hole in your heart. It left you feeling hollow.

You were so lost in your thoughts; you didn't notice your grave mistake. You stumbled on icy rubble, created from your failed Blizzaga spell earlier. This provided him the opportunity to swoop in and overpower you, sending you crashing to the ground. An involuntary gasp escaped your lips as your eyes widened. The Masamune was dangerously close to your left abdomen. It glinted menacingly in the light, a warning of the peril you were in. The ripple effect from his blade caused the fabric of your minidress to rip, exposing the delicate skin of your left abdomen.

Masamune was so close that you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, even though the blade never touched your skin. His icy blue eyes pierced your soul as you looked up and met his gaze. His trademark cool smirk was unmistakable. Then he curled his lips into a devilish grin, slightly different from what he normally gave you. You were so enchanted by him you didn’t even realize his vast, single black wing was enshrouding you. As you felt a powerful heat emanating from his long blade, a black feather rested on your chest. 

 With a sudden jolt, you kicked him up into the air and flew towards him with a battle cry. Both of your blades clashed, causing a metallic chorus to reverberate through the air. You didn’t know what happened, but it gave you the psyche boost you needed. The show must go on. The surviving fabric of your minidress threatened to rip if you kept this farce up, but you didn't care. You kept swinging your Keyblade at him, as your life depended on it. This was the most exhilarating experience you'd had. You'd do whatever it took, even risking death, to keep feeling this exhilarating rush. Even if the only emotion he held for you was a deep, sinister satisfaction in your plight. You were nothing but a source of wry amusement to him. As you went in for a hard blow, he summoned a shining wall of energy that effortlessly blocked your attack. 

 “That’s enough,” he said. He spoke with a gentle, yet authoritative voice. He casually brushed the dust and debris off him as you both descended into the stadium. You take a hasty step back. The wind blew through your hair as you shuffled your feet against the ground. Your Keyblade dissipated as you glared at him, pouting at the abrupt ending to your fight. He always pulled out at the best times, leaving you with a deep longing. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he softly chuckled.

The ethereal energy that summoned him is now calling him back as its aura surrounds him. As you watched him depart, you reflected on what happened. You had an incredibly close call today. Just like when you first crossed paths, he was close to ending it all. Though, you wonder if that was just him teasing, or if he really was warning you of his diminishing interest. Regardless, he granted you another day to live...

Maybe next time will be better? 

[rosewritesfanfics]

Is it alright to request a pt2 to the story helpless :)

Helpless Part 2

I gave this a happy ending, I might write a bad ending next simply because I love angst but we'll see.

The walk to the hospital had passed in a blur, people, buildings, and plant life merging together around him as Strelitzia guided him through the city. He'd stopped crying only once he had no more tears he could possibly shed, eyes red and puffy. Small injuries received during the battle did not register as he focused solely on trying to get your connection to respond. He couldn't tell you what hospital this was. He couldn't tell you what room number you were in. He couldn't tell you where Riku or Strelitzia had gone. All he knew was that he could see you and that's when he finally snapped back.

You were still on the bed, shallow breaths nearly unnoticeable if not for Sora's silence. The nurses had cleaned the blood off your face, and only then did Sora realize he was still covered in it. Oh god. The red coating his hands had been inside of you. You were so pale. Could you even regenerate enough to recover? There was so much. A stark contrast to the white sheets on your bed. He felt like he was going to be sick. He needed to get it off now. But if he left you, would you stop breathing? You still weren't responding to him. Normally it was instinctual, you'd have no awareness of your connection and your heart would do it even while you slept. Please just respond. Please. He was only met with silence.

Strelitzia and Riku re-entered the room with a rag and food, probably from the cafeteria. No words were spoken as Riku wiped the blood from his face. Sora would not look away from you.

"Sora" the sound after so much quiet almost scared him. "There's a sink in the adjacent bathroom if you want to clean the blood off your hands." Riku spoke gently, like he was talking to a wounded animal or a child. The worst part was, Sora couldn't disagree. His mind was completely adrift with fears about what was happening. Truthfully, Riku could have wiped the blood from Sora's hands as well, but he wanted to give Sora a moment to collect himself.

"I can't leave them." Sora's voice was scratchy from the screaming he'd done earlier. He hoped his heart didn't sound as weak. It had to be strong to even hope you'd hear him. Riku looked like he wanted to say something, probably to convince him to take care of himself. Sora knows you'd want the same thing. But he can't. Not when you're still not answering him.

"Sora the doctors said they're stable, but we can't do anything until they wake up." Strelitzia was trying to calm him from his internal storm of emotions but she didn't understand. You never ignored him calling out to you. "Sora please do you really want them to wake up and see you covered in blood? It's for both your sake and theirs." Strelitzia was playing on his weakness, and it worked. He was fragile in this state but he'd do anything for you.

Sora found his way to the bathroom and scrubbed his hands until they felt raw. He actively avoided looking at the mirror, he didn't want to know how he looked right now.  He called out one last time, in the vain hope he'd hear something. Anything. At first there was still only silence. Sora gripped the sink so hard he thought it might break. Somehow it seemed he still had some tears, and he grit his teeth as he fought against them. He didn't need to embarrass himself any further in front of his friends. He quickly forgot the sentiment when he finally, finally, felt your heart again. It was a quick pulse. Flickering and barely there. But it said what it needed to. I'm still here. I'm going to be ok.

Sora almost fell to the floor in sheer relief, allowing a few tears to fall before exiting the bathroom and pulling his chair up next to your bed. The other two left the room to give him some privacy as he cried next to you. He focused on his messages to you. Soothing and apologizing, trying to comfort you. You could hear him couldn't you? You had to. A few more minutes pass. Another small pulse. Sora allowed himself to smile. 

It's three long days of waiting before you wake up. Your heart had been getting stronger and Sora could feel it. Your connection was restored and arguably stronger than it was before. Even if you couldn't communicate with him past instinct, upon waking you'd find you could sometimes feel one of those pulses from his side of the connection. You'd woken up to it, Sora's heart buzzing and humming as it sensed you fully awaken, knowing before he'd been able to witness it. You gently squeezed his hand that was holding yours as he napped by your bedside. You felt him squeeze back as he slowly woke up, before blue eyes fully widened and Sora sat up in shock. His hair was even more a mess than usual, spikes depressed and messed up in all different directions, but other than that it seems Riku and Strelitzia had forced him to take care of himself. You'd have to thank them later.

Before you could say anything he scooped you into a hug. You gripped back and he laughed, and tears once again fell from his eyes, happy ones this time. You took a second to absorb your surroundings and how you got there. That's when you remembered how Sora had confessed to you. After ignoring you for months. Suddenly you pulled back, and the look Sora gave can best be described as that of a kicked puppy. 

"I'm not mad" you start and he perks up a bit as you continue, "especially not after what just happened, but we still need to talk. I can understand wanting me to be safe and why you kept your distance, but that doesn't change the fact it hurt me."

"I'm sorry, I know there isn't a good excuse." Sora sounded just as small as he looked, and your previously stern demeanor melted a bit. How were you supposed to stay upset when he was this adorable? It truly wasn't fair.

"I forgive you, just promise me you'll keep me updated from now on." As soon as the words leave your mouth he's once again at full attention, capturing your hand in both of his while looking at you with a seriousness you didn't think he was capable of.

"I promise. I was never planning on doing something like that again anyway. I don't even know if I could leave your side after seeing you while injured. The whole time we've been apart, I've still been able to feel you in a way thanks to the way our hearts are connected. I can feel it with all my friends, although some connections are stronger than others. But when you passed out, no matter how much I tried to feel you there was no response. Eventually your heart began calling back out to me, but before that I was terrified. For all I knew you were dead. That fear, that's how you've felt this whole time right? I'm so sorry I ever put you through that, I'll never do it again." He's choked up again by the time he finishes, and when you tug him back in for a hug he holds you tighter than ever before. The both of you still needed to talk things through, and there was still a war to fight, but for now Sora could focus solely on the person he loved without fear.

[liliumsabyss]

I am going to make a fic using the line’s “ I promised you gold but all I can give you is silver and “I would be fine with hay” But im not sure which character I want to do so here’s a vote because my indecisive ass can’t do it!

[a-tsurugi-simp]

I LOVE your work so far! What about Y/n sacrificing herself to save Teruya(+his reaction)? Like with Akane and Rei but during Nikei trying to shoot everyone. I’m in the mood for angst today :) it can be a fic or drawing, whichever you prefer

SPOILER WARNING:

ANGST TRAIN ANGST TRAIN IM UP FOR IT.

I was making at fic about it, but then at around 300 words I wanted to draw Nikei with the void eyes so I did drawings instead lmao. Hope u like it!!!!

Bonus: Nikei's aftermath.

Teruya Despairing, hell yeah. angst train.

[inzaynety]

he's a biter! ⤫

➢ summary: once you’re in his sights, hoshina has no choice but to leave a mark; or all the times he thinks it’s okay to sink his teeth in you and a time you return the favor

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 2459 words, biting, some blood, suggestive & sex / nsfw, 3+1 things, friendship with okonogi & gen

➢ notes: so this man single handedly brought me back all motivated lol also i caught up on the manga ahaha and reader is a commander 🥴

You could say that being bit by a Kaiju was inevitable.

Everyday, going out and defending the public from them is your job and it always comes with risks. Hell, your arm was nearly chomped off yesterday if you weren’t quick enough to dodge right then and there.

Scratches, bruises, scars—all were familiar and just part of the job. It hurts, it stings, it stays with you until you do so much fighting you can just brush it off as another Tuesday.

They were Kaiju. They didn’t care.

You hiss at the sharp pain on your shoulder, your face giving way to an exasperated expression as you try to finish making breakfast.

That was not from a Kaiju. This one cared.

His teeth are sunk into your skin with enough force to leave yet another lasting mark. You can feel Hoshina smile against you before he pulls off, pressing small pecks to the dents and priding himself in feeling you shiver in his arms.

“You’re an animal,” you say, pushing an egg onto his plate but don’t make a move out of his arms. His bare chest is warm and you want nothing more than to fall back to sleep at the feeling. But that would mean commending his actions and his head is big enough as is.

“Am I, sweetheart?” Hoshina’s voice is low and gravely from sleeping so deeply only minutes before he decided to insert himself into your personal space. His hands trail delicately along your waist as he noses along the column of your neck, “Ya never push me away so I bet yer lovin’ it…”

You don’t say anything and he takes that as your answer, chuckling when you huff. He watches as you place the very hot pan down before he begins finding another suitable spot to continue. He settles on the back of your neck and while this time his bite isn’t so sudden, it still stings nonetheless.

“See?” He gently licks at the forming bruise and the lilt in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed. “It’s a lil too late and I know ya said I couldn’t leave anythin’ while you work, but please? Can’t let my girl go without a few more.”

Weighing out the options in your head, you realize you could never say no to him. So for the rest of the day you sport new red accessories that feel itchy underneath your gear.

—

Okonogi is a good friend of yours and she, along with the rest of the Third and at your own station, knew of yours and Hoshina’s relationship.

Your presence at the Third Division base wasn’t expected but was certainly not unwelcome from the multitude of members coming up and asking for tips or an autograph (Iharu was guilty of this and received a plethora of pushups as punishment). But your reason for being there was a secret to them.

“What are you doing here?” The familiar glare on her glasses catches your eyes first. Despite having your title, you were friends first and foremost so the flick to your forehead wasn’t a surprise.

“Ow! What the hell?” She only motions you out of her chair and places her items that you only shifted around in the mission of finding a pen to make some doodles to leave there for her to find. “Is it a crime to want to see my friend from time to time?”

Okonogi sighs but there’s no annoyance on her face upon seeing you again. It had been a while since you’ve talked in person but you supposed a time outside of work would’ve been better. If anything, you took the opportunity to tag along with your station’s operations leader and members to head to third.

Sora pokes his head in, still starstruck being in the presence of your friend while simultaneously being the professional he was. “Miss Okonogi? Do these numbers look right?” She stands up from her chair and walks over to him, hovering over his shoulder and giving pointers.

You take the opportunity to sit in her chair yet again and swivel around, looking at all the monitors and suits in the room below the control area. Feeling the stare of the third’s operation members beside you, you turn your head and greet them.

“Welcome to our base, Commander!” One of the younger ones says and you laugh at his enthusiasm. You were about to say something until you felt a rather unexpected sting on the top of your right ear. Immediately, you cover it only to have your hand caught by the culprit.

“Yes, welcome Miss Commander.” Hoshina has that grin he always bears and the surrounding third members avert their gazes upon the situation their Vice-Commander has created. Okonogi and Sora watch from the side, unimpressed with what was about to unfold yet again.

You hadn’t had the chance to tell him you were visiting as you thought it would be the day you could surprise him. He had been in training with one of the newer recruits so it wouldn’t hurt to visit and sneak up on him. So imagine your own when he did it instead?

“Sosh—Vice Commander Hoshina, what are you doing?” He only shrugs and stands back up, smiling oh so innocently.

“Nothing really.” And he just up and walks out of the room, leaving you in a flustered mess. You couldn’t even face the eyes on you and the look of unamusement from Okonogi.

The way back to your division’s building was full of teasing remarks while Hoshina felt no shame at all in the confines of his office.

—

Narumi Gen is the Commander of the First Division. The strongest soldier with the eyes of the oldest numbered Kaiju. Narumi Gen is also the bane of your existence.

“I didn’t come all this way for you to shit on me!”

"Well, if you didn’t play so shit, maybe I wouldn’t!”

You’re both cooped up in your apartment away from the outside world, and with him barging in on your day off, you had no choice but to let him in at his persistence. That and with the threat of losing your BS5 to him after his own miraculously broke.

You roll your eyes when he sticks his tongue out at you but quickly return them to the game at hand. It was 2-1, best out of five with you in the lead for keeping the console you so definitely paid for, but your car was miles behind it and it was already the last lap. Gen was radiating smugness from beside you and you couldn’t even reprimand him for it when he passed the finish line with ease, not even giving you time to throw that last blue shell for the hell of it.

“Why’d you play so shit?” If you weren’t such close friends.

“Shut up.” You groan and stand up to refill your glass before the final round.

“Get mine, too.”

“No.” He knows you don’t mean it when you’ve already grabbed his cup so he’s content with pulling out his phone and posting a story about his victory. Stepping into the kitchen, you pull open the fridge door for the juice. As you’re pouring both cups, there’s a knock on your front door.

You place everything back and leave the cups on the counter as you go to answer it and your mood shifts when you see him.

Hoshina’s holding up bags of snacks with a wide smile that you can’t help but kiss him. He reciprocates and you would’ve spent more time there if not for the annoyance in your background.

“Come on, I gotta be back before 10 or Hasegawa’s gonna be on my ass!”

“Good!” Hoshina chuckles and closes the door behind him, following you back into the living room as you bring the drinks. And right at the site of him, Gen shoots up from the floor and points at Hoshina.

“Hey, what is this asshole doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too!”

Gen’s eye twitches and he gulps down the entirety of his juice. You’re in the background looking through the bags Hoshina brought with the knowledge of their one-sided rivalry. See, before you even got together with Hoshina, Gen would talk your ear off about how much he hated the guy and you prepared yourself for the worst for if you ever had to meet him.

Well, that backfired for your friend.

They continue to bicker until you wave around your controller, catching both of their attentions, “Wrap up your cat fight so I can win.” Gen gives a final scowl and sits on the couch for the finale. Hoshina, in a mindful attempt to give the other more space, sits on the floor between your legs, his back leaning on the couch with his cheek resting on your thigh.

The race starts and it’s a map you’re not so good with. That’s already a disadvantage on top of it being one of Gen’s favorites. The race goes on and the closest you can get is 2nd with Gen reining in at 1st for the last few laps. You click your tongue and hope that one of the blocks would give you some sort of miracle item.

Hoshina watches as you get so close to becoming first and immediately loses it once you turn a corner, feeling the frustration from behind him. The first thought that comes to mind might have not seemed beneficial in the moment, but it would kill two birds with one stone. Or, well, three.

He turns his head just a little bit and bites your leg. You make a noise and distract your friend beside you who can see what’s happening in his peripherals.

“What the hell? Don’t do that when I’m right here!” That’s just enough time for Gen to miss his last drift and allow you to pass him right as the finish line comes into view. Gen sees this and curses under his breath, throwing his held item he manages to get in the middle of it all (a blue shell, figures) to stop you in your tracks.

Though, he didn’t expect the boombox you’ve been saving.

Suffice to say Hoshina’s plan did the three things he accounted for: getting you out of that frustration, annoying Gen, and satisfying himself.

You were just happy you got to keep your BS5 for that week and Gen wished his eyes could’ve told him what was going to happen.

—

With the job comes a busy schedule, but at least the nights were for you two alone.

It’s humid in the bedroom but neither of you cared amidst the hushed gasps shared. Despite being far from the station it seemed that these quiet habits were hard to break thanks to a certain someone.

Your eyes are glazed over and Hoshina places a hand on your face to keep your attention on him. “Tired out?” You hum into his palm but shake your head. You can feel him shift inside you, slowing his movements to make sure you were there.

“Just a ‘lil more, please?”Hoshina crumbles under your words and what kind of lover would he be if he didn’t indulge you? He kisses you softly before running his hands down to your hips, lifting them up slightly and you sigh at the adjustment. “Soshiro!”

“I got you, darlin’, relax f’me.” It's hard when his words fire you up more than you’d like, but for him to continue you had to oblige. Soft caresses on your skin and whispers of sweet nothings in your ear brings you so, so close.

But it’s not enough.

His pace is slower this round, him being mindful of how many times you’d come already but he’s also holding himself back and you can see. Through the tears in your eyes you look up and see the sweat on his face, his neck, and dripping down his chest. He’s straining, veins prominent in his neck and arms are telling.

Lifting your arms up you wrap them around his neck, pulling him down and burying your face into his shoulder.

“Faster, please. Soshi—“ You can’t even get his name out as he’s already fulfilling your wishes. Your moans are right in his ear, driving him to reach both of your climaxes as soon as possible. It’s been hours since you first hit the bed and the feeling never gets old. Especially when he finds that spot in you that has you seeing white, and especially when he releases his warmth soon after yours.

The feeling’s too much, your nails scratching down his back and your body shaking from the last of the night. It’s right there in front of you and before you know it, you’ve latched your teeth onto his shoulder. A hybrid of a whine and moan escapes him with surprise as he tries to ride out the aftermath.

“O-Oh, shit.” He chuckles and his hips stutter, “That’s dirty, sweetheart. Not fair for ya to be doin’ that.” You release him and lay back onto the mattress and with the energy you have left, you look at him again. You wish you could remember the view forever.

Hoshina’s covered in the sheen of sweat, either just his or both of yours, and there’s a sly smile on his face. His crimson eyes are right on you with the most mischievous yet adoring look in them—the color of which matches the liquid seeping from the mark you just left.

“Wait, baby, you’re bleeding—“ You feel weak and disoriented but still have half the mind to try and reach to the bedside table for a tissue, but he catches you by the wrist.

Hoshina presses a kiss to the inside of your palm and settles you back onto the sheets, “Don’t worry about it, I can tell ya like lookin’ so enjoy it a lil more.” He lets go of your arm and leans down to place a light kisses to your neck, suckling on the soft skin he can reach. You were already teetering on the edge of sleep and his ministrations were aiding in that.

Your arms come up to pull him down to you and he doesn’t resist. Not like he would’ve anyway.

“Soshiro?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.” Your voice is quiet and you think he doesn’t hear it. But Hoshina starts to smile against your skin and bring you impossibly closer to him. Lifting himself up a bit, he catches your half-lidded gaze.

You always say this after every night you spend together and he never gets tired of it. You couldn’t deny it even if you wanted to, but he cherished you just as much.

“I love ya, too.”

[donna-rinascimentale]

i just KNOW den den tumblr would go hard

3 notes

🪝🔁 jolie-rouger reblogged westendgirl

🪝 jolie-rouger

ok i know we went through this months ago but i just found out overflowing sasaki has my birth month on the sexy pirate calendar this year and i just—

listen if having a pirate kink is wrong i don’t wanna be right LOL

🎠 westendgirl Follow

Please delete this. In my country, everyone knows someone who was killed by pirates. It breaks my heart that I can’t browse safely without people like you making light of my trauma.

🪝 jolie-rouger

aren’t you the marine who got called out for spending work money on a PX5

#no but i was like. where have i heard that name before #and i snoogle it and see that’s THE westendgirl #never leaving this website. #rouge speaks

24 notes

🤖🔁 codepunk reblogged uminosora

❄️ uminosora Follow

hey im laine/stealth. 22 they/he. grand line (south side).

yes, this is a sora fanblog. i want to make it clear that i do NOT condone irl marines. AMAB. yes even your marine dad or sister or grandpa

minors dni im not a babysitter

i have an electrical engineering apprenticeship so PLEASE PLEASE talk to me about it ill love you forever

i’m an artist! i post my work under #my art !!

if we are mutuals please tw injections, wasps, and tra/fal/gar la/w (individually or with my catchall #laine don’t look or #stealth don’t look)

extended byf/dni under the cut

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

#laine.txt #intro #sora warrior of the sea #umi no senshi sora #artists on tumblr

4 notes

👒 fuckyeahmugiwaras Follow

© FOR MUGI

XX0531 ♥

#MONKEY D LUFFY #STRAW HATS #STRAW HAT PIRATES #LUFFY #HAVE YOU EVER SEEN SUCH A LITTLE GUY #A FACE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD. TOO PURE. #ADMIN BARTO #ALSO BY THE WAY MOD HEBI IS TAKING A SMALL HIATUS. WILL EXPLAIN IN A LONGER POST

128 notes

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The new CRIMINAL S/S 20XX collection is here.

Learn more

🍤 lia-writes Follow

SOOOO sorry for the slow updates guys! I live near the Newgate protests and my house got molotoved so I lost internet access for a few weeks BUT I’ve been writing the next chapter down on paper & just transferred it so here it is!!

Lift Me Away - Roku x Reader - Chapter 3

You find yourself trembling, not knowing what struck you. The man’s arms envelop you gently, knowing his strength, his presence otherworldly. He feels too perfect to be human—and yet he’s warm and he exhausts, the way he’s exhausted protecting you. He tilts you upright, careful of your weak knees, and looks you in the eye.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

#monkey ball #monkey ball roku #roku x reader #reader insert #female reader #fem reader #roku x fem reader

54 notes

🃏 meadowoftheroad Follow

“i don’t find sea kings cute” ok??? sometimes a little baby has 18 rows of teeth

#sea king mention #meadow rambles #i just want to take them home is that weird?? #little noodles #1k #5k #10k #50k

73,878 notes

🌁🔁 vanillacrypt reblogged 4kari

♾️ rokusbreastimplants Follow

daily reminder that it’s okay not to engage with what’s on the news lately. breathe. you’re not a bad person for feeling overwhelmed; you’ll be alright. if you’ve been scrolling for too long, go get up and take a walk/have a glass of water. the internet isn’t going anywhere; your mental health comes first.

🌁 vanillacrypt

wise words from rokusbreastimplants

12,443 notes

🎀 nanayagi Follow

#soul king #brook #soul king brook #soul brother #soul sister #soul king fandom

1,349 notes

🪃🔁  criminaldildo reblogged bone2beasoulsister

👤  dressrosan-dreamgirl-deactivated20xx0714

I usually don’t like to delve into drama, but I can’t stay silent any longer. Mod Hebi of @fuckyeahmugiwaras is an EXTREMELY predatory individual. I will not be disclosing any of my sources, for my safety and theirs, as she has an irl documented history of hostility towards her critics.

To start, Mod Hebi is inappropriately fond of Straw Hat Luffy (who she met irl when she was in her 30s and he was 17). I’ve been told she’s tried to flirt with him on several occasions, given him large gifts, and tried to guilt him into choosing time with her over his female crewmates.

Literally kicks kittens??? I shit you not they say they’ve seen her straight up BARRELING kittens across the floor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Keep reading

🦴  bone2beasoulsister  Follow

i believe it. the way she never updated about anyone else, only luffy, and left admin barto to do all the hard work… it was always off to me.

🪃  criminaldildo  Follow

where is this coming from??

yeahhh not going along with this until there’s ACTUAL proof. mod hebi is very much a solo stan but. kicking kittens… how are we supposed to take these cartoon villain allegations seriously 💀💀

🪃  criminaldildo  Follow

of course. deactivating when people question them.

#i know we stan criminals here but can we as a fandom please express some critical thinking for ONCE

8,385 notes

🏺🔁  00tsugi reblogged mad-gadfly

🎑  take-me-to-sea  Follow

scheduling my lobotomy at doskoi panda

234,291 notes

🌁🔁  vanillacrypt reblogged sailingacademic

🛳️  marines  Follow

Pursue truth. Fight for justice.

Do you have what it takes to join the Marines? Learn more at gonavy.🐌.

👒  fuckyeahmugiwaras  Follow

K

🕊️  mad-gadfly  Follow

U

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🤡  histrio1ne  Follow

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🌋  rogerscrackden

E

🪝  jolie-rougers 

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🍈  baddestinthesouth  Follow

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🥡  addtocatalogue  Follow

ppl in the “pirate fandom” who only orbit “safe” pirates like cavendish or boa hancock are WEAK. buddy if you saw the pirates i want to fuck you’d hurl.

#pirate fandom #pirates #if he’s eaten a fruit in the last week i do not want him

1,377 notes

💫🔁  sunsetsoveralabasta reblogged

💫  sunsetsoveralabasta  Follow

some homeless guy on horseback gave me a nice looking apple… im hungry and curious.

💫  sunsetsoveralabasta  Follow

hoptal

#in my defense the horse was very cute

874 notes

[published-ink]

Ash

Chapter 1 preview of Avatar the Last Air Bender stories I've been thinking about writing. This sample is unedited and leaves a lot of room for improvement/ interpretation so please leave feedback or comments if you like it or not lol.

This will eventually turn into a OC/reader insert (possibly with a love interest) but for now I want to focus on world building.

Warnings/mentions: death, war/fighting, blood PSA: I do not own any of the original characters from Avatar (I know that’s obvious but l've seen other people mention it so l thought | should too)

Enjoy :)

Prologue

Water. Earth. Fire. Air. In the old days, there was a time of peace when the Avatar kept balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, and Air Nomads. But that all changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar mastered all four elements. Only he could stop the ruthless firebenders. But when the world needed him most, he vanished. A hundred years have passed and the Fire Nation is nearing victory in the War. Some years ago, Fire Nation soldiers lead siege against the island of Sora. A horrific battle full of smoke and bloodshed took place leaving many in ruin. Yet one thing gave the elder leader of this quaint trading island hope, the revelation of a Partisan. The mystic idea of a Partisan to the Avatar's had not been recalled upon since the reign of Avatar Kyoshi and her partisan, Rangi. The role of being Partisan is a Phenomenon that can only be reviled by who is granted the role."

Chapter 1: Smoke

Great gusts of smoke gushing out of windows, sails and boats burning like flags of defeat, the cries of humans blowing like fierce wind through angry mountain tops. No simple trading island could survive a attack like this. The Fire Nation and acute protocols when it came to even simple mentions of the peaceful Air Benders that once glided through the world. So when fisherman left Sora Island Thursday evening to dock in Fire Nation territory in the early hours of Friday, they hit the nail on a coffin of many innocent lives.

[strawhatsoraya]

Hiii! <3 So.. I wanna preface this by saying: OMG, I love your writing and I love reading your reblogged posts and quotes and I really hope that at some point I manage to write as beautifully as you do! The language just flows and.. .sighs I wish I'd say I was better at writing in my native language but I feel like that would be a lie. ANYHOW… may I request something…? Ace with a female reader, who feels bad for being a bit chubby? Just, like, you know, not the typical One Piece-hot-woman-figure, but perhaps (in her mind) a bit too much booty, too thick thighs, a too soft belly and (the only thing she's a bit happy with) quite decent breasts? But, baseline, is convinced that a hottie such as Ace would never ever consider her to be attractive. (What? Me? Self-inserting? Noooo. I'd NEVER. I totally don't think my PhD studies ruined my body worse than I'd like to admit. *coughs*) Could be fluffy. Or NSFW... which would make me especially happy. <3 If you feel up for it, of course!

Either way, I needed to tell you that I love scrolling through your new posts :D

I keep meaning to ask you what's your native language? I speak and write Spanish as well but my spelling, and grammar in Spanish is muy terrible. So I'm sure you're just fine lol. Anyway, so I know this was supposed to be a "reader doesn't think ace will find her attractive" and somehow it became a "two idiots don't know what they're doing or talking about" slow burn. I promise you I wrote it with my whole heart though. *does silly dance* AND IT'S NSFW. This fic consumed my mind for this whole day and I needed it to be done ASAP because otherwise I couldn't live. I hope you enjoy it!! Also you are absolutely the sweetest person ever. I'm so so so SO happy you love my writing. Your kind words and feedback are the best. Plus you're just so fun to talk to. BUT LET ME STOP BABBLING. HERE'S YOUR FIC.

ACE X CHUBBY FEM!READER | NSFW, Soft Smut ™, Slow Burn Babeyyy WORD COUNT: 9k (i have nothing to say for myself) CONTENT WARNING: alcohol consumption (because I am sora and I am a grown woman who likes to write about alcohol), profanity (not a lot but enough), angst galore, a sprinkle of fluff because it's cute decorations, unprotected sex (when will they learn???), groping, sloppy kisses because ace is passionate and means well but he is also eager, that being said oral female receiving with some sloppy head, nipple play, plenty of ass grabbing, biting, ace talks way too much for his own good, he is silly and just says things, and it might be embarrassing but that's just how he is, you know i love my repeating themes so if you hate that please stay away!!, is a hurricane/storm a warning? then yes, i guess dangerous time to be partying and having sexy but these are pirates, handjob, what else?, oh jealous ace is amazing, also flirty marco because i love marco sue me A SUMMARY: Ace comes aboard the Moby Dick, fire in his fists, fire in his eyes. Y/N wants to know his reason for fighting, but curiosity is a beast of a burden, and when feelings get swept up in the heat of his storm, Ace has to make a choice between reason and his heart.

I - A Disturbance : Wind & Fire

You were born in summer heat. Your mother's arms welcomed you into her world, sticky with sweat but full to the brim with love. Her plush lips against your temple, baptize you with a kiss. You grow, not like a palm tree all spindly trunk and leafy green top, but like a wild hibiscus tree; small and closely rooted to the ground with bushy branches covered in small leaves reaching out to the horizon. Like the Hibiscus, you dance in the wind, laughter trailing behind you. In your hair, its red flower entangles in curls. The sparkling water of the beach is always warm when you swim it. Your mother grows weary of warning you about the currents, and the treacherous waves. Eventually she gives up, names you her little mermaid, and braids beads into your hair that sparkle in the sun. Despite your mother's warnings you always find yourself there, at the cliff by the sea.

He is born in secret. He's born because there's nothing left. A mother's dying wish whispered into the soft spot on his head, to a dark curl who can't remember the words. In time, he runs as fast as his legs can carry him, through forests, creeks and mud. On the creak of the branches under his feet he tries to find that elusive promise; words he had sworn he never heard but somehow left a gaping hole. Sometimes he thinks he hears them in the howling wind. Sometimes he only feels it on the heat of his skin, when the sun is blistering hot above him. Heart torn in two, he always finds himself there, on a cliff looking out at the sea.

Like a Siren, it calls to them. On the horizon, the sun blinks as it sinks under the water, a fading beacon. The wind whips around their shoulders, tussling their hair with heated fingers. In their ears it whispers: come find me, I've been waiting.

You leave to the sea, as your mother always feared. She's inconsolable at the dock. You laugh to keep from crying, and wipe away her tears with the back of a small hand. She makes you promise to look out for yourself. Don't dive into the sea, she warns you with furrowed brows. Don't be impulsive. Don't head straight into storms. They forgive no one. You brush her worries aside with a kiss on her temple, before you bolt aboard the ship.

Several adventures later, you're aboard the Whitebeard Pirates ship. You offer your knowledge and skills in medicine; pair it with a big bright smile and hope for the best. Lady Luck favors you, beckons you with curling fingers. Another nurse is just what their ship needed—at least for now. Marco takes good care of you. He is patient, and kind. He is also easy on the eyes. It doesn't take long before you're being saddled with responsibilities.

You try your best, thinking your experience in wound care is your strongest skill among a ship of pirates. You did not share their strength, and undying courage but you did have wit, and you have a sharp tongue. You wielded them when necessary, the edge of your words a sharp scalpel. If you throw your words out fast enough, hard enough to kick up some dust they might not call you on your bluff. Compared to them, you couldn't help but feel like a soothing passing wind; barely noticed before you were gone, no impact, no trace left behind.

His entrance is violent, and eruptive. His presence disturbs the way of things, sending invisible critters scattering to seek refuge. You think you feel suffocating heat when you first see him. Portgas D. Ace is a forest fire at full flame, determined to devour everything, before you even noticed a spark. His eyes incinerate everything he glares at, thick brows furrowed together for so long you fear they are glued that way. Where his crew seemed agreeable even, accepting of their fates, he grew more restless by the day. You had to admire his tenacity. The sheer force of destruction his willpower possessed was alluring; dangerously seductive.

When he tries to take Whitebeard down for the 11th time, Marco is sick of it, and delegates you to the task. You swallow thickly, avoiding his gaze. You think Ace must not be a man of many words, as conversation is clipped and forced. It was just as well. The task was distracting enough. You try to remind yourself to keep your fingers moving as they brush over his skin when you apply antiseptic to gashes on his chest. He hisses, forcing your eyes up and away from the freckles you had been counting. His eye are dark pools that pull you into their depths, so deep you think they're bottomless. In your mind, your mother's warning echoes.

Don't dive into the sea.

You blink, and look away, feeling heat spread across your cheek; splotches of shame kept in secret. You try to focus instead, on the gauze on your hand, the warmth of his body under your fingers when you press it against his open wounds. You look up through your lashes when you apply pressure, wondering if a day would come when he didn't seem so closed off—so intriguingly unavailable. His jaw is set, teeth clenched so tightly all the time, you had half a mind to inspect his molars for cracks. His eyes flicker towards you and you pretend to inspect the bruise on his temple. You press a tentative finger against it, wondering if you could dip your fingertips into his thoughts that way. When he flinches, you move back to the gauze, wrap his wounds with soft bandage.

Your hands on his chest, you feel heat radiate from him, feel his heart beating steadily underneath. A heart never lied, each beat a tell tale sign. You try to listen closely to each secret told in a pulse against your palm.

Don't be impulsive.

You were never good at listening to your mother. Your mouth was quicker than your mind; traitorous and vile.

“Why do you keep fighting, if you can't win?” you ask him, slapping the bandages for good measure; assuring they stick, and assuring your message goes through. Ace flinches, and reaches for your wrist. His grip is strong, thick fingers wrapping around the width of your wrist. For a fleeting moment, you know you should fear him. You have seen what he's capable of, but the heat from his hand melts away all preconceived notions.

“Sometimes,” he says blinking down at you. His brows are furrowed together—they always are. You see his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows. His thumb brushes once against the inside of your wrist. You think you hear a call—someone shouting from the sea. “Sometimes, you fight anyway. If it means protecting people you care about.” He lets you go, and you instinctively pull back, bringing your arm to your chest. He watches you fuss over your wrist momentarily before closing his eyes. He looks pained, and before you can offer him painkillers he's speaking again: “Maybe it's all I know how to do.”

II – The Depression : A Flickering Flame

He didn't mind at first, but now it felt like he shouldn't be there.

He shouldn't be sitting on the edge of the thin mattress of the nurses station. He shouldn't stand still when your short fingers tentatively palpated his injuries. He shouldn't watch you, like a seagull over water, searching—praying, as your teeth sank into the plushness of your bottom lip.

There was so much he should and shouldn't do, he no longer could keep it together. Ignoring you seemed like the right decision. It should have been easy. You were the enemy, if he wanted to be fastidious about it. A member of the Whitebeards Pirate was just someone else standing in the way of his goal. Most of all, his pride couldn't stand it. It couldn't stand the disappointed look in your dark eyes, and the way your mouth would twist into a little smirk when he would walk in. It couldn't stand the way you would immediately retract from him at the slightest hint of discomfort, how you would look at him like he was a wounded bird, wings teared at the joints, unable to fly again, sentenced to death.

It was pride that kept his mouth sealed shut. It was pride that stapled his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He wished pride would leave him blind instead. He wished to not notice how soft your hands are, how small and cute your hands were against his chest. He wished to not notice how he becomes disgustingly interested in your short chubby fingers, and wonders what kind of reaction he'd get if he could nibble on one or two. He wished to not notice how obsessive his thoughts are over the appearance of your skin; golden, and glowing on the apples of your cheek—how soft they looked. He wished he didn't think about it at night, when darkness wrapped her arms around him tightly. He wished he didn't think about your lashes, the look you give him through them that fills his mind with smoke.

Racing thoughts, and a racing mind. It took everything in him to keep them quiet. Your voice is soft when you speak, and his lips part, a beating heart trying to scream but no sound comes out. His cheeks feel hot, and he swallows awkward conversation prompts down. He chooses, instead, to fix his thoughts on something else, something more urgent: like how to defeat Whitebeard.

He simply couldn't afford to dawdle with you. Ace never thought twice on taking on a challenge, but you were a chasm he couldn't bring himself to jump across. If he missed, the fall could be deadly. He blinks when you speak again, your eyes fixated on his face. Ace quirks his left brow, and thinks he's offended you. He wants to speak quickly, heart beating against the sinew and bone keeping it prisoner, but the words tangle in his throat.

The door creaks open, and Marco walks in. You look away from Ace and smile at Marco, before forcing two round white pills into the crook of Ace's palm.

“Make sure you take those,” you tell him, as you force his fist closed. “You hit your head pretty good.” You reach up to rap your knuckles against the side of Ace's head lightly. “Gotta try to save whatever brain cell's are left fighting for their lives in there.”

Marco laughs as you stand up. Ace hears you chuckling lightly, as it grows into laughter. He takes a sharp breath through an open mouth, watches you as you turn to look at him over a shoulder.

He wishes pride would hurry the fuck up and blind him. He wishes it so bad, he crushes the pills in his fist into dust.

The sight of your ass stretching the nurse's uniform fills him with a heat he's not very familiar with. It settles at the pit of his stomach, and he stares at the door even after you leave. It isn't until Marco speaks that he brings himself back to the present.

“Why don't you join, Ace?” Marco asks, as he settles on the stool you were sitting on moments prior. Ace frowns down at it, annoyed at his thoughts—he wondered if it was still warm, and he hated that Marco would know the answer. “You know, it's not a bad deal. He treats us like his sons. We're all a little lost out here, kid. You don't have to be alone.”

Ace scoffs, mouth twisted into a crooked smile. He tilts his head as he watches Marco, trying to swallow the bitterness in the back of his mouth. His heart lurches, and he shuts his eyes. If he closes them tightly enough, perhaps the hopeless dream will go away. He never had a father figure, and never needed one. It was a lie he recited at night; a prayer to a faceless God.

“I don't need a father,” he mumbles at last, picking at a string on one leg of his shorts. Marco laughs. Ace looks up, frown back in place.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Marco agrees, reaching up to rub the back of his head. “But why don't you try? What do you got to lose? It's not like you have any manners.” Ace begins to protest but Marco's laughter caught him off again. “And you might learn how to properly talk to a lady.”

Ace thinks his head might start catching fire. He pats his hair quickly.

“I don't need any help with that!” he says loudly, an elbow digging into a thigh as he leans forward to scowl at Marco.

“Oh, yeah?” Marco says trying to keep his laughter at bay. His smile is crooked, and insufferable. “Is that why you looked like a fish gaping for air when I walked in? Very convincing.”

Just when Ace thinks there is no way he could be more embarrassed, he feels his blush deepening, freckles almost obfuscated. He promises Marco to think about it, and he does his best, but thoughts of you plague him afterward. Your laughter that carried in the wind to him, the way it felt like it sank into his scars, the way it burned and made new ones in return.

III – A Simmering Storm

The needle on his back, sinks into his skin time and time again, embedding ink to stay forever. It is liberating, in a sense, marking himself with a brand of his own choosing. So much unlike the one stamped upon him at the time of his birth; the son of a monster, a nuisance, someone not worthy of the space they took up in the world. No longer did he have to search for reason, or an excuse. Ace could simply be, and he welcomed his newfound drop of happiness with a toothy grin.

A celebration at him joining the ranks, and being able to be commander of the second division seemed a bit over the top but he liked merriment—and the food and alcohol was too enticing. The darkening clouds in the distance threatened to dampen his mood, and the crowd on the deck of Moby Dick. Murmurs spread the word of an oncoming storm but nobody seems particularly worried. The only thing on their mind is how fast they could drink and eat before they got rained out.

The only thing on your mind was the blooming ache in your chest. You try to soothe it with a hand, smearing your palm against your voluminous chest. The crop top is soft under your skin. You try to memorize this, instead of the radiant smile on Ace's face. He had never seemed so undoubtedly happy as he did now. A different feeling settled between your ribs, a pang so bitter it causes you to hiss. Jealousy was a monster you squashed down with angry fists every time you saw one of the nurses place a hand on Ace's bicep. You never thought you would have to beat it down into submission while picturing the face of your own captain.

You're happy for him, truly. You mutter to yourself, over and over, drink after drink. You're elated, even, that he has finally come to accept the bright side of things. You're happy that he has been given a position that you feel is well earned, one that you hope he can excel at.

You're happy for him. You really are.

You're so fucking happy it hurts to breathe. You force another deep breath into your lungs, the air is humid and the scent of rain floods your senses. You blink back the wetness in your eyes, and when Marco asks if you are okay you blame pollen. Marco tilts his head, but chooses not to pursue the subject. Instead, he swaps your empty cup with his. You barely notice. You're too busy thinking about where the sea will take Ace next.

Something in your chest seizes—panic, or fear. It rises like heat from the ground, a crackling electricity flying up through the stale air that keeps you trapped on the ground. You try not to move too much, you fear jostling your thoughts, fear that if they move too much—touch a certain way, sparks would fly, singing you to a crisp; charred and useless.

He is happy, truly.

It wasn't something he could have ever dreamed of or imagined. He smiles as people congratulate him. Alcohol tastes sweet on his heavy tongue. He barely tastes his food as he pummels it into his mouth. He pictures what it would be like, sailing away from this ship, to complete tasks he would be responsible for. He pictures what it would be like to tend to his own wounds, what it would be like to sit at whatever island he found, and not hear your laugh.

He is happy. He really is.

He's so fucking happy, he thinks he feels sick. It's not anxiety. Ace could never admit that. Anxiety over what? He did not fear death. He never had a good reason for living anyway. You could only fear death if you were bound to the living. Then what was binding him to this ship? It felt like a vortex, a cone ensnaring him and trapping him to his spot; a gust of wind that kept bringing him back to you, no matter how many times he moved around this damned ship.

He tries moving again, taking his mug of beer with him. You bump into him with your ass against his. He turns around, ready to pick a fight but sees your heated cheeks instead. You mumble an apology that he laughs off. His hand moves before he controls it, and he ruffles your hair—something he knows you loathe.

“I'm not a puppy,” you hiss, pursing your lips. Ace drinks quickly from his mug, to refrain from sighing.

“Then why do you look like one?” he asks you, and leaves through the crowd. You lose track of him quickly, and decide to stomp around on the spot. It was easier than to think about the way he had looked at you, and how it had set your face on fire.

You do your best to mingle. You notice he does the same, but you're never far from each other. It feels comical in a strangely annoyingly tragic way. When you squeeze between Thatch and Izou to refill your cup, your hand brushes against something warm. You follow the hand to see Ace's tattooed bicep. When your eyes meet, thunder splits the sky. You move quickly, wordlessly, determined not to see his face against for the rest of the night.

The sea has other plans. The ship begins to move more than usual, and your legs still not quite so strong, threaten to have you rolling over. You blame the alcohol of course, when you land on Izou's back. He steadies you with a tight smile as you giggle, and spins you in place trying to send you in the opposite direction but your eyes meet Ace's again. The ship lurches, and you stumble forward. His body is warm, and inviting, you giggle at the ridiculous situation—as people continue to bump into each other mid-party. You try to move again, but your legs betray you. His arms hold you up, and brings you closer to him. Your body is soft against his, plush and delightful. You look up at him with a tiny small, eyes hazy from the alcohol, and Ace swears he hears the sky split open.

You're on your way again before he can say anything else. It was probably for the best. He loses track of how much he drinks. He could still feel his face, could still keep track of his thoughts—filled to the brim with you, and concludes he clearly hasn't drunk enough. He holds on to this as he grips the railing so tight, it cracks under his fingers at the sight of you with Marco.

Marco was so kind, and so friendly. His hands were soft around your waist. You know it was shameful, to giggle at all his silly little jokes, but the alcohol has you feeling weightless—for once. You almost don't feel the wind against your cheeks, you don't feel it whipping your hair around. You let Marco pull you closer, his hand pressed against the small of your back. It was better this way. It was better Marco than a ship sailing to a destination unknown.

He drops the mug of beer. It splashes on the deck, and he feels liquid splash against his knee. Ace clenches a fist as he moves, fire erupting from his knuckles before it swallows his hand whole. Drops from the sky grow heavier. They sizzle as they reach his wrist, little wispy vapor rising from the flames like warning flags. Ace breathes through his nose and wills himself to smother the flames. They die out by the time he reaches you, but there's a fire in his chest, flames behind his eyes he can't control.

The sight of Marco's hand very comfortable in the small of your back almost threatens to set him on fire again. Marco's mouth is so close to your ear, Ace thinks he must smell the lotion off your skin the same way he smelled it off you so many times before; the one that always drove him mad, who forced him to imagine tropical islands, to dream of coconuts and beaches, of you and sandy dunes. Your smile takes his breath away, and when he sees it's aimed at Marco it fills his lungs with lead instead. Your lashes flutter, and Ace sees a drop of water fall and cling to the apple of one your cheeks. He follows its path until it rolls off from your jaw.

As the last rays of light glints on the surface of it, a spark goes off.

His hand is around your wrist. Marco moves away slightly, only pulling away to look at Ace with a quizzical expression. His smile is frozen in place as he tries to assess the situation. He laughs, and naturally Ace feels like he should punch him in the mouth for it. Marco looks over to you, to pull a response from you when he begins to talk but your eyes are nowhere near on him. You are too focused on Ace's face instead.

You zone in on the arch of his left eyebrow, the narrowing of his dark eyes, the slight curl of his top lip. Rain starts pouring down. You watch rivulets of water streak down the side of his face. You try to breathe as he watches you, try not to think about his fingers wrapped around your wrist but you can't stop yourself from wanting to know. You want to know what it means. You want to decipher that look in his eyes, the dark clouds forming, the way you think you see lightning.

Your mother's words ring one more time. Don't head straight into storms.

A gust sweeps you off your feet, a dream so airy and full of promises you think you can fall forever if it meant he'd look at you this way for another breath, and another.

IV – The Hurricane

It wasn't enough.

He could consume every drop of alcohol aboard the Moby Dick, pour into his mouth ounce after ounce like his life depended on it, and it still wouldn't be enough.

There's nothing, not a sobering thought, not the lightning in the sky, not the dark clouds in the distance, that could free him from the hold you have on him. Your eyes are so big and round you remind him of the softness he hated in himself, the same he tried to strangle with his own hands. In you, it only made him want to kiss you. Right there. Right now. Ace swallows down the last of his apprehensions. He tightens his grip around your wrist, and thinks everyone and everything could go to hell and stay there. If he caused a scene by dragging you away, he simply did not care.

Nature had other plans. The wind picks up, the sea fights back. Waves rise, and rock the Moby Dick—a feat that's not as easy as it sounds. Marco gives you one last look before he scrambles away, shouting orders to the crew. They desperately climb to close the sails, but you can't finish watching them work. Ace drags you away from the deck, down a path you're ashamed to be familiar with.

In his room, he finally lets you go and you stumble forward with momentum. You hear the door close, and a lock click. You spin around belatedly, trying to keep your arms from swinging too much and losing your balance to see Ace's back pressed against the door.

He watches you from where he stood, hair soaked through. His raven curls are slicked against his forehead, so he runs a large hand through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face. He can't be bothered to find his hair a nuisance. Not when you're standing in front of him, wet from head to toe. You're out of your nurses' uniform, something he is not used to seeing. Your hair is lose and partially wet, wavy tendrils sticking to your cheeks and shoulders. Your round face looks precious, he swallows as he fights the urge to cradle it in his hands. Your wide eyed expression forces a chuckle out of him, one he tries to hide on the back of one hand.

He notices belatedly, and with a little remorse, the slight blue tint on your bottom lip and the redness on your cheeks. Your eyes are hazy, heavy lidded, and he tilts his head at you, dopey smile on his face.

“You were having fun,” he mentions, eyes trailing away from your cheeks to your torso, the dips on your sides that make your waist. The soft rolls that settle there make him want to touch you. He raps his knuckles on the door behind him instead, fingers tapping without rhythm; anything, and everything to keep himself controlled, especially at the sight of your wide hips, the thickness of your thighs.

“Yeah, I was actually,” you finally find your voice to speak. You swallow with difficulty, slapping a hand against a thigh, over your wet jeans. “Anyway,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose. You should stay focused. You do your best, but the sight of Ace's bare chest reminds you of how warm he is and how frigid your fingers currently are. You'd love to warm them up right now, skim them over his toned abs. “Why did you do it?”

“Do what?” he asks you quietly.

“Drag me here. Can't you see?” you start, licking your lips, feeling very very parched when you follow the small trail of hair beginning at the bottom of Ace's belly button, and disappearing underneath his shorts. “I have working legs!” You make a show of lifting each one, one at a time, and pointing obnoxiously. “See? Perfectly healthy.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, pushing away from the door. He walks slowly towards you, steps hesitant and careful. His eyes roam over your body. You watch him drag his gaze from the top of your head, to your feet, and back up again at an excruciatingly slow pace. Your heart accelerates, and it thunders in your ears. “You're perfectly healthy,” his voices comes in softer now that he's standing in front of you. “I can see that.” Ace hands wrap around the roundness of your shoulders. He slides them down slowly from the short sleeves of your crop top, thick callused fingers skimming along the back of your plush and soft biceps. Your skin is soft, tantalizing. It feels as if he shouldn't touch you. It feels sinful, something he has no privilege to but he continues anyway, down to your wrists until his fingers grip yours gently. Ace tightens his hold on your hands and pulls you closer to him.

He wraps your arms around his waist. You don't fight him. You move; a leaf carried in the wind. Your fingers grip around his belt loops, as he dips his face to the crook of your neck. His hot breath fans against your skin, when he drops the softest kiss—his lips, or the wind, you're not sure. He nuzzles the exposed skin, using his nose to move the neckline of your crop top as much as he can to drop more soft kisses. You're colder than he expected, so he holds you tighter, until your softness fills all his hard edges and gaps. Your curves are a pleasant surprise. He had expected some of it from the way you filled the skirt of your uniform but seeing you out of it had been a vision he shouldn't be worthy of.

He shouldn't be worthy of any of it. He shouldn't enjoy the way your hips feel under his hands, but he still runs them over them up and down, over and over again. He shouldn't enjoy their width, the way the flesh caves under his grip, how his fingers dig deep and it still isn't enough to touch all of you. He shouldn't enjoy the way your skin feels so impossibly soft against his lips, as if it melts under his heat; snow under a sunny sky. He shouldn't enjoy the scent of your skin, the scent of your lotion that brings him to the brink of madness. He shouldn't enjoy the way you sigh his name when he sucks on your pulse, and grabs your ass. He shouldn't tell you the way he thinks no matter how much alcohol swims in his veins. He shouldn't tell you the way he feels, but words bubble up his throat and out his mouth—a freshwater brook whose source he can't define.

“You feel so good,” he moans against your ear, when he pushes his hips forward. Your eyes flutter at the feel of his erection against the softness of your belly. “I love touching you, Mermaid.” The nickname usually bothers you; given in passing because you loved swimming in the sea despite the dangers, but from his lips it feels like a spoken song; a poem only for you. “You smell so good,” he licks the shell of your ear, bites on the sensitive cartilage on top. You gasp, and dig your nails into his back, desperately holding on to whatever was left of your self preservation. “Do you know how sick I was?” He thinks he should punish you, and so he does, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck. You yelp, and slap his back but it doesn't deter him. He smiles against your skin, licks the blooming bruise with a flat and sloppy tongue. “When Marco's hands were all over you. I thought I was going to burn. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't stand a second of it.”

His words sound desperate. You try to stay present by drawings circles on his back with your fingertips. The storm screams outside the room. You hear the wind pick up its shrill song, tinny and distant. Water pelts against the small circular window on the door, a drumming sound that soon grows deafening.

“Ace,” you try to interrupt his rambling, but his hands are tangled in your hair. His lips brush against your temple, before he speaks against your head.

“I felt sick watching you. It felt like I was in pain,” he groans into your hair. His hips press against you again. You bite down on your lip hard enough to inflict pain. You rub circles on his back, and force yourself to focus once more. His words come in belatedly, sound traveling a long distance in the air. You press your small hands against his chest.

“Where does it hurt?” you ask him, brows furrowing together. Leave it to Ace, to be injured in a moment like this. You shake your head, not sure to trust yourself or his words. You should have drank less. You should have stayed away from Ace. You should have left with Marco instead. Ace presses his forehead against yours. His breath tickles your nose. He moves his hand over yours. His fingers clutches your hand, and warmth seeps from him to you. You feel it sink it, seep into the rest of your arm and down to your elbow leaving a tingling sensation.

“Here,” he breathes out in a whisper. He squeezes your hand, presses it closer to his chest. “In here.” He pats your hand once, and again, repeatedly in a rhythm that matches his heart beating under your palm. Ace moves slowly, and gently brushes his nose against yours. His heart beats faster under your hand. Your eyes are tethered to his mouth. You can't look away from the sight of his lips parting, as if he couldn't catch his breath. You feel your mouth do the same, feel the air in your lungs run out; breathing is not enough, nothing is enough. His head tilts, and you follow his lead; reflections on still water.

“Idiot,” you finally whisper, a breathy laugh bouncing away from your mouth. He feels it reach his lips, and he swallows it whole in his mouth. “You mean your heart?”

“Yeah,” he admits fighting a smile, his lips brushing against yours. “My heart.”

You should laugh it off. You shouldn't take him seriously. A drunken confession would be forgotten the moment the sun rose again but there is a screaming in the back of her mind—distant and ancient like Sirens on rocky shores. The storm grows louder outside. You had always thought you were a serene passing wind, something to soothe and lick old wounds better; something to be forgotten once you left, but the heat of Ace's breath against your mouth, spun around you in circles. It transformed you into something bigger than you thought you could be. You wanted to be bigger. You wanted to be something destructive, something that would tear him from limb to limb, leave him with the wreckage of your path so he could have something to remember you by when he was gone.

You reach out, hands seeking a target. You clasp his face as you smash your mouth against his. He hums into the kiss. It's clumsy and forceful. You leave him no room to push back, no gap to slip his tongue past your defenses. It isn't until he is grabbing fistfuls of your ass to pull you closer to him, to rub his bulge against your belly once more that you concede. You gasp, and it's the only weakness he needs to exploit. His tongue strokes against yours, hunger forcing him to be overzealous. He is sloppy, and imprecise, kisses so wet saliva coats your lips, making them shiny under the yellow sconce's lights of the room. Ace knows he should slow down, show a little finesse but your ass feels divine in his hands. He had been watching it the whole time during the party, watched you saunter back and forth, hips swaying; teasing him.

He moves against you, and you step backwards, the ship swaying enough to make you forget your route. You land against the wall with a thud, your plush ass making you bounce slightly in Ace's embrace. He laughs against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. “Nice,” he mumbles before he takes your bottom lip for a long and noisy suck. “It's like a safeguard.”

You groan, hands traveling down the wideness of his back, and over his shorts. They settle over his ass, and you return the favor, digging your fingers into the muscle. He groans loudly, pushes his hips immediately against yours and grinds against your lower belly. The smell of wine on your mouth threatens to intoxicate him further. He closes his eyes as he pushes against you, feeling precum starting to soak through his underwear. Your tongue feels perfect in his mouth. He sucks on it time and time again, taken in by the sheer softness of it. How it doesn't feel unfamiliar at all, as if he had kissed you thousands of times before.

He wished he had kissed you that many times already. He wished he could tuck away those memories somewhere no one could take them away from him.

Every time he kisses you, it feels like dying, and it feels like coming back to life. You've died hundreds of times already, hundreds of little deaths by his hands and by every stroke of his tongue. You think you smell smoke in his hair when he holds you close, when he whispers sweet things in your ear before biting down your neck, leaving a trail of bruises in his wake. His hands are weapons he uses to tear your down. Their heat eviscerates all your defenses. It kills you how they feel so hot, even over your clothes. How when he drags his palms over your belly, you want to feel them lower, towards the center of your legs. Your belly is soft, and pliable, he squeezes and kneads until he memorizes it. His hands move to your sides, where he grips the soft flesh, the rolls that are tender in his hold.

Your cheeks color, and your heart flutters. Embarrassed, you swat his hands, and move them away from your waist.

“Don't push my hands away,” he says annoyed, going back to grab your sides. “Before I--”

You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your mouth hotly against his. You wrap your arms around his neck. “Shut up,” you say breaking the kiss. You kiss the corner of his mouth, and up his jawline. “If you say it—I'll leave.” You press your mouth against his pulse, and a soft spot behind his head. “I'll walk out right now. Don't even say it.”

He kisses you, and you crumple under the weight of it. It feels like a last desperate attempt at silencing you, at keeping you here with him. His heart is in tatters. He tries to ignore the debris of it, the way it splinters off into pieces. Ace deepens his kisses, crushes you against his chest, and traps you tightly between him and the wall. He knows the truth. He knows the more he kisses you, the more he'll discover all the things he wondered about you, the more he'll become familiar with your softness—the more he'll miss you. A feeling of unworthiness crawls out of a well. He tries to smother it with another kiss, one you moan into. You bring a leg up and he holds on to it, hooks it around a hip and pushes against you, his cock feeling painfully hard. He thrusts his hips, and he tries to forget every touch of your fingers on his back, how your trail them along his muscles, leaving memories in them he could never forget, memories you shouldn't give him so willingly.

He should be the one to walk out without a further word. If it hurt you, it would mean you'd never look at him again. That was the right thing to do. He should let you go immediately. He should stop craving the heat of your body. He should stop pushing against you, and moaning into the crook of your neck, giving into every desire and fantasy that had filled his body since he met you.

He should. But he couldn't stop himself from being selfish. Just this once. For once, he wants to seize a semblance of happiness by his own hands without needing a reason for it—without needing a reason to simply exist.

Ace brings you to his bed, pushes you down until you're seated on the edge of his mattress. He kneels before you. You blink, mouth surprisingly dry considering all the wet sloppy kisses Ace had been giving you. You lick your swollen lips, and think you taste beer in the corner of your mouth; residual of Ace's conquest. Ace kisses your cheeks—one at a time. He reaches around you to the bow holding your crop top together. He unties it easily, and just as easily pulls it over your head. You don't know where it lands, and it honestly doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is the way Ace's eyes land on your breasts, the way he licks his lips as if he's gearing up for a feast.

He wasn't expecting you to not a have a bra, but he couldn't complain either way. Once again, he is amazed at his sheer stupidity. How he had never noticed the size of your breasts, how large they were and how beautifully they hanged from your frame. He swallows thickly, wishing he had done this sooner. He presses his mouth against the middle of your chest, hands tentatively taking in the weight of your breasts. He palms them gently, cupping and lifting as he moves his fingers. His intentions are well meant. Ace would love to take his time with you, but you react so deliciously when he flicks his thumbs over your hardened nipples, mewling against the top of his head that he felt like he had no choice.

If his hand felt like furnaces, his mouth is incomparably vicious. The heat of his tongue is paralyzing. When he sucks on a nipple, his free hand twisting the other one between thumb and index finger, your toes curl. Your panties cling to your folds, covered in your slick since earlier. You whimper, embarrassed and aroused as Ace continues his streamlined assault. His teeth leave marks over the swell of your breasts. You respond to every lick and nibble he gives. Your soft moans leave goosebumps on his skin, reminding him that this is him making you moan, him who has you scraping your nails against his scalp.

He shouldn't—but he smiles—thinking Marco can go kick rocks. He bites down on a nipple, a bit too hard, at the thought. He should mark you more, lest anyone get any ideas.

And like that, his heart aches. Ace sighs against the side of your breast, licks over a bruise in apology. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge thoughts that had no business polluting his mind. He wonders what would happen if he leaves you for too long. Would you move on? His fingers stumble to unbutton your jeans so he tries again. Of course, you would. Who wouldn't? Marco seems to like you, and what's not to like about Marco?

Desperate, he finally unhooks the button. You fall back on the mattress with a surprised squeak when he pushes you. Ace tugs your jeans off. You see him standing between your legs, as he unbuckles his belt, and drops his shorts. You hear the thud on the ground, the creak of the mattress as he joins you.

He cages you in, and you immediately reach out. Your fingers splay against his broad chest. His shoulders are wide, and strong, muscles rippling with every movement he makes. The yellow lighting of the sconces compliment the golden tone of his skin. You bite your lip, and rub your legs together, deeply aroused when you brush your fingertips against his muscular abs. Lightning strikes, and bathes him in a flashing white light. You see for a moment, every freckle on his shoulder, and chest. You run your fingers over them, connecting the dots, making up little galaxies on his chest and shoulders and committing them to memory. You'd remember these later, on lonely nights, and hold your hand to the ceiling, pretending that if you trace over the memory of them you could bring Ace back to you like a spell; like a wish.

His kisses scatter your thoughts, little stars clouding your vision. His mouth is on your neck, and on your chest. Heated, and wet. He leaves hot wet trails of saliva wherever he goes, coating you with his smell. He kisses your belly, and nibbles on the soft flesh underneath your belly button. His fingers dancing over your thighs. Ace moves lower as you hum, parts your legs to drop kisses on the inside of your thighs. For a split second, you consider being embarrassed at the state of your arousal but you are past the point of caring. Soaked right through your panties, all you want is for Ace to keep kissing you.

He smells you before he sees it—before he sees the big wet spot in your underwear. Ace chuckles, and you reach out to swat at his head but he is faster than you—as usual. He grabs your wrist and kisses the inside of your palm.

“Don't be like that, Mermaid,” he says in a good mood, smile wide and crooked. He looks up at you through black lashes, a faint flush over his cheeks. “I know how much you love being wet.”

You think about screaming, and beating him senseless for saying something so embarrassing but when he pulls your panties down in one quick move you are left speechless. Just as quickly, his mouth is on your pussy. He gives long, meticulous licks; ones he uses to slurp up every drop of your arousal. He uses his fingers to part your folds, and traces your slit with the flat of his tongue. Your back arches, and you moan loudly, hands flying to tangle in his black curls. He is noisy, but he does not miss a spot. He slurps up a lip, sucks on it gently. He flicks his tongue around your sensitive nub, making you shiver and tremble.

Just when you think you can't take the heat of his mouth any longer, Ace pulls your lips apart again, and slips his tongue inside your aching pussy. He thrusts it in and out, upping the pace the more you moan. He slurps up, wet and noisy to suck on your clit. His fingers tease your entrance before he slips two inside you. He scissors his fingers inside, the squelching so loud and lewd, you're forced to slap a hand to cover your mouth. It is sinful, and you wonder if you should worry when you grow hornier the louder the wet sounds get. He curves his fingers, seeking out that spot that makes your toes curl. His moans against your clit as he sucks vibrates against you, and you cry out as you cum. Your pussy flutters around his fingers as you reach your peak, little tremors running their course throughout your body.

The way you look so disheveled makes him want to stay down there longer. He'd love nothing more than to feast on your pussy all night long, but his throbbing cock is becoming increasingly harder to ignore. He moves to climb over you, but the ship tilts when a particularly large wave comes. Ace sways, but you reach out to grab him by the arm before he rolls off the bed. You pull him towards you, and laugh at Ace's shocked expression. He laughs with you for a moment, before it dies out. Your eyes captivate him—their sparkle too bright to be dimmed by the yellow lighting of the room, or even by the darkness of the storm outside the room. Ace kisses your cheek, and licks your ear. He laughs into your hair when you yelp, and hit his shoulder with a tiny fist, your own laughter overtaking his.

“Your laughs always carries so easily,” he says quietly, a hand brushing hair away from your face. You wrinkle your nose up at him. “You know that? I always hear you wherever I go.”

There's a breath that refuses to come back to you. It stays there behind Ace's smile. You swallow, following the path of his trail of dark hair that starts at his belly button. You grip the tip of his cock gently, and watch his brows knit together, teeth clenching to keep from moaning. You brush a thumb against his slit. His lips part, eyes fluttering close, and as you squeeze your hand down his shaft, he lets go; a moan flying past the front of his teeth. He is thick in your hands. You move them gently at first, taking in the sight of him above you. His dark hair spilled around him like a curtain.

His eyes that he fights so hard to keep open but flutter close every time you squeeze his pink tip just right. He cusses under his breath, upset he can't watch you jerk him off, how he can't keep the sight of your white teeth sinking into your berry colored bottom lip in his vision.

You are mesmerized by the sight of him. You try your best to commit to memory the planes of his face, the sharpness of his jawline. You rub your legs together as you stroke, enjoying the way your slick slides down your thighs. You love how vulnerable he looks, how soft his expressions is as he gives in to you, his dark lashes that flutter open and close, the freckles on the bridge of his nose; everything leaves their residue behind like sticky fingers on glass.

You feel his hand swat yours away from his cock. “Stop,” he whines in a hiss, eyes opening partially. He frowns down at you, cheeks bright red, mouth hanging open. “I don't want to cum like that. I want to cum inside you. With you.” There's no time to think, you feel him shift your legs, and feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. He pushes inside you, slowly, inch by inch. Your mouth drops open, a sound that refuses to leave your body. When he bottoms out, you moan gently, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Your thighs are thick and plush as they tighten around his strong hips. Ace feels as he would be swallowed whole—like a small vessel in a raging sea. If you wanted to drown him, he'd let you, if that's what you really wanted. He grunts with every slow thrust of his hips, wanting to feel you first, let you adjust around him. He's only begun, but he feels you fluttering around his cock, senses the tightening of your grasp around his shoulders.

He picks up the pace, as the storm rages. You're panting against his hear, so loud that even the thunder can't drown you out when you moan. Lightning splits the sky, over and over, bathing your sweaty body underneath him in bright white. He tries to remember the pieces of you, the soft breasts pressed against his chest, the sight of his cock disappearing into your soaking pussy. He tries to remember the sound of the rain, how it compliments your voice when you sigh into his neck. He pushes against you faster, deeper, your moans grow closer and louder. The scent of rain and wet wood floods the room along with the scent of your arousal. Ace can almost taste it on his tongue all over again, as he breathes through his mouth, panting loudly—moaning when you clench around his cock again.

His cologne makes you delirious—mahogany, and sweet blossoms, or it's the thickness of his cock or both. You bite his neck, scream into the crook of his neck when he picks you up slightly by the hips, when he angles his thrusts and slaps his hips against yours viciously enough to bruise. His cock pushes against your gummy walls, stretching you out until it's almost painful. He is so hot and warm inside you, you feel like you're melting, as if your body is built by nothing but pleasure and pleasure alone. You bite his shoulders, leaving marks behind. Your attack is as relentless as his thrusts. You continue to sink your teeth into his shoulders, and his neck, you nibble at his jawline.

He loves it. He loves the pain you leave behind. Ace digs his fingers into your hair, and he tilts his neck to give you more access—anything to keep you going. He groans with every thrust into your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your thick and plush ass so noisily he worries for a second someone might hear.

“Go ahead,” he whispers to you when you nibble on his neck once more, groaning right after. “Make it hurt.” It is a fitting punishment, he thinks. Pain always left the deepest scars. If it was you, he'd take the scars with him.

The wind picks up more, the shrill tinny scream rises, banging against the round window on his door. It pounds at the glass, demanding tribute. Ace cries out when your pussy clenches around his cock, his body tensing before it relaxes at his climax. He releases, spilling into you, hot cum that oozes slightly out of your cunt. You stay tangled with him in his bed sheets, lightning coloring your bodies in bright white every now and then. Heat envelops the room, a humidity so thick it feels suffocating; muggy. Your bodies covered in sweat, are slippery, almost uncomfortable but you don't care.

You don't care about the incessant heat beaming off his body, you don't care how his hair sticks to your skin when he nuzzles in your neck, you don't care bout the storm outside the door, the angry sea. You bring your hand to Ace's chest, feel his heart thumping against your palm. What you care about is there, under skin and bone, just out of reach.

You shut your eyes when he kisses your lips, when he holds your face in his hands.

Your mother's words cut through the screams of the hurricane outside. Don't head straight into storms. They forgive no one.

But who was the storm? Was it him? Was it you? Who's to forgive if there's no one left in the wake of the storm?

[sanctuary-kingdomhearts]

(Y/n)/Sora: I have never done anything wrong in my life.

(Y/n)/Sora: I know this, and I love you.

(Because this goes both ways. We support supportive siblings).

[nobodies-png]

How about "the thing is, suddenly when i picture my future, all i can see is you." With Sora? Or maybe Ventus? You can choose either.

Theres a shitload of Ventus requests, so i’ll go with Sora for this one ! here’s to hoping tumblr doesnt fuck up the format like it always does when i put shit under the cut

for context, reader is native to the destiny islands and a childhood friend of the destiny island trio! they receive a little letter from sora and meet up with him at the island hehehoho

Dear, Y/N …

…I know we all have gummiphones now and I could’ve given you a call or something, but a letter felt more appropiate, you know? It also would’ve been super embarrassing to say all of this in person…

You get out of the boat and onto the pier, the letter clutched tightly in your hands. It has been a long time since you came here by yourself, especially this late at night, but the waters are calm and the sky is clear - moonlight guides your steps as you discard your shoes and make your way to the beach, feeling the sand under your feet. 

The waves crash against your legs, you pause for a moment, taking it all in.

…But don’t worry! It’s nothing bad, I promise! The worlds are still safe, I’m not going anywhere and everyone is finally home, safe and sound. I’ve just been thinking. A lot. About you and me and stuff, I guess…?

In this light, or a lack thereof, you notice that the island isn’t as scary or massive as you remember it to be. The trees aren’t as tall, the waters aren’t as deep, the darkness isn’t as threatening. Travelling around the many worlds, those sparkling stars above, has certainly helped you and your friends grow, it has given you perspective. 

Still, the magic and nostalgia remain, this place holds so many cherished memories of your childhood, all the years you spent playing around with all your friends. It was a sanctuary for all the children of Destiny Islands, a paradise where nothing could ever go wrong. Home, it was home.

You wonder if that’s why Sora asked to meet you here tonight. 

Just thinking about the letter makes your face feel warm again, it’s so like Sora to pour his heart out without stopping to think about it and render you speechless with just clumsy yet heartfelt words.

…Riku and Kairi have always told me that I need to think about what I want to do, the things that make me happy - unrelated to saving the universe, Kairi insisted on that. “You can’t be a hero forever, Sora. Trying to make everyone happy isn’t stable job!”. Blah, blah, blah! Just being with them, with you, with all the people I cherish seemed more than enough for me, but…

You’re all alone for now, but you’ve seen the other boat anchored by the pier - Sora will come to you when he’s ready.

A smile crosses your face when you remember the day he broke one of Kairi’s good luck charms - the one she gave to you. It took him a day to build up the courage, but he eventually confessed and apologized through tears, showing you all of his failed attempts at fixing your poor charm. Back when you all were children and the worst thing that could ever happen was missing dessert or being scolded by your parents.

Then, once you two were older, it took Sora a couple months to realize his crush was reciprocated, along with some help and guidance from your other two best friends. And even so, it took him an extra few days to properly confess and ask you out.

But he always came through for you, didn’t he? Your reliable, impulsive and still super predictable idiot. 

The rustle of shoes dragging across sand pulls you out of your reverie and when you turn around, you immediately get lost in the depth of his eyes. Sora’s gaze when he looks at you is something you never dared to describe, fearing it’ll ruin the magic - it’s overwhelming in the most beautiful of ways.

And now, he looks at you with unwavering determination, the same expression he wore when he promised to bring everyone back home. It’s in moments like this you fully understand why he was chosen to bear the weight of the world. Only Sora could do it, carry the entire world so lovingly on his back and expect nothing in return. 

He smiles, and you swear he could outshine the fucking sun if he wanted to. Hell, Sora could ask you to follow him to the end of the world and you wouldn’t even hesitate. 

…The thing is, suddenly when I picture my future, all I can see is you…

“You made it!”  Sora shifts his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. “Guess you read my letter, huh.”

“Your handwriting is still pretty hard to decypher, so it took me awhile. Especially that bit at the end. But yeah, I miraculously made it home!” You make a show out folding said letter and putting it somewhere safe in one of your many pockets.

“Yeah, well. At least it’s a little better than Riku’s…” Sora pouts and huffs, pretending to be offended, but in the end, he’s laughing along with you.

A comfortable silence settles down, both of you content with smiling at each other like absolute fools in love. You could simply just leap at him and smother him with kisses, knowing very well that he’d catch you. But when you take a step towards him, Sora steps back, glancing back and forth between you and somewhere behind him. That’s when you realize he’s hiding something.

Of course, you step forward again, hoping to take a quick peek. And, again, Sora moves to keep you out of reach and the mysterious object out of view.There is a tense pause and then, almost in perfect synchronicity, you two make a run for it.

“Y/N, STOP. REALLY, I HAVE NOTHING TO HIDE.” 

“I NEVER SAID YOU DID.”

“THEN WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE YOU’RE TRYING TO HUNT ME FOR SPORT!?”

“COME ON SORA, ALL COUPLES CHASE EACH OTHER AT THE BEACH AT SOME POINT!”

The gift - you assume that’s what it must be - is now pressed tightly against Sora’s chest, preventing you from seeing anything. But he’s so close, almost within your reach, so you do the sensible thing and tackle Sora to the ground, pinning him down. Sure, some sand might’ve gotten into your mouth during the process, but it’s a small price you were willing to pay. 

“Fineeeeeeeeee…Y/N 1, Sora 0… But just so you know, I had this very awesome and romantic speech prepared and everything!” Sora whines, not even bothering to struggle and the gift is revealed when he raises his hands, using them to cover his face.

A Paopu fruit.

…Is that weird? I keep dreaming about waking up next to you, sleeping in together, making breakfast and chores together, getting groceries, hanging out with all of our friends, never worrying about darkness this, darkness that…

It shouldn’t even surprise you in the slightest - of course Sora would do something like this in such an earnest way. Of course he would take a silly myth and turn it into a grand gesture of love. When you look down at your mess of a boyfriend, he’s turned impossibly red, peeking at you from between his fingers in silence, waiting for a reaction. So you grab the fruit and straighten up.

“It’s a Paopu fruit.” you point out very eloquently, cringing at the way your voice breaks at the last part. 

Sora has the audacity to snort and giggle at this, sitting up with you secured on his lap. You reach out and brush the sand off his hair, playfully rolling your eyes when Sora manages to sneak a kiss to your wrist, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine. His face is still red, but at least he’s not hiding anymore.

“It’s not as fancy as a ring, but… I really meant all those things I wrote. I want a future with you,” this time, Sora doesn’t shy away from your eyes. But this confidence doesn’t last long, he stammers and trips over his words immediately, “Not that I’m asking you to marry me, pfft. It’s like, waaaay too soon, right? B-but I’d love to! Marry you, that is. In the…near…future? If you… Uh, want to…Maybe? I just thought a Paopu would be nice to share, and uh yeah…! So we can be part of each other’s lives forever!”

“Is that your ‘super awesome and romantic speech’?” You joke, mostly to distract yourself from the butterflies and all sorts of fuzzy, warm feelings blooming and fluttering about, all over your body. Is he doing this on purpose? He has to be, your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

With an exaggerated sigh, Sora slumps forward, nuzzling your neck and wrapping his arms around your waist, swaying with you from side to side. He’s warm, so very warm.

“I thought I had it…! Can I get a do-over, pretty please?”

“Nuh-uh, I like it better this way. It was good, really, stop giving me that look!”

By now, you’re immune to his puppy eyes - at least you like to think you are - so you begin to split the Paopu fruit in two, watching Sora’s eyes light up like stars, following your every move. His hand lingers on yours when he wordlessly accepts one of the halves.

There’s so much you want to say to him and, judging by Sora’s lovestruck expression, there’s so much he wants to say to you. But neither of you are in a rush, there’ll be plenty of time to talk about what the future holds.

For now, you both take a bite.

…Maybe it’s a bit selfish, or even childish. But I want that future for us andCRAP. I’MRUNNINGOUTOFSPACE.MEETMEATTHEISLAND.I’LLTELLYOUTEVERYTHINGTHERE.LOVEYOU!!!! -SORA

[elvenxwarrior]

Kingdom Hearts - Sora - SFW Headcanons

Masterlist

You can also find these posted on my AO3!

👑 Sora is the ultimate sunshine boy, all he wants to do is make you smile.

👑 Sitting at home playing video games? Going out for a nice dinner date? Carnival date? Anything to make you happy!

👑 Calls you "Sweetheart" most of the time, "Baby" when he's trying to be extra sweet but other than that, he'll call you by your name.

👑 If Sora had to pick favourite date/s, he loves taking you to the carnival or a theme park. He loves roller coasters and the evening atmosphere with all the pretty coloured lights.

👑 Sora really likes Pokémon, so if you take him to build-a-bear he is absolutely making a Pokémon stuffie. I'm not sure which he'd choose for definite, but I like to imagine he'd either get Vulpix or Bulbasaur. His favourite Pokémon however is Growlithe / Arcanine!

👑 That being said, Sora probably plays Pokémon GO, mainly in Twilight Town. The Bell Tower is a gym, which he often has a team member in and has friendly rivalry with Hayner about it as they're on separate teams.

👑 Sora loves lending you his clothes. You remember his old big red shorts? Yeah you own those now.

👑 He also borrows your clothes too; he just likes having something to snuggle with. Your hoodie will replace any stuffed teddy in an instant, especially if you're going to be away from each other for a long time.