#what's the name of this ship? Because I'm warming up to it

[winxanity-ii]

IT'S ME, MARIO!

ship: itadori x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 1.7k a/n: idc idc idc, yuji would definetly make a fool of himself if he knew you were nervous

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Since living on campus, you'd adjusted to being on your own. It had been… interesting, to say the least.

Moving from the comfort of your hometown, where you knew everyone and everyone knew you, to a sprawling university was like stepping into another world.

But you'd managed. Slowly but surely, you'd found your rhythm.

You'd been pushing yourself to attend those countless events and programs that the campus threw at you, dipping your toes into the waters of socializing at your own pace.

Sometimes, it was easier to just be a face in the crowd, observing from the sidelines, taking mental notes of how people interacted, what made them tick.

You'd practiced small talk like it was an art form—commenting on the weather, complimenting someone’s shirt, asking what their major was—and for the most part, you'd gotten better at it.

It was a slow process, but you were learning to navigate the chaotic dance of college life.

Currently, you were sitting in your honors open communication class, trying to remember how to breathe without making it seem like you were hyperventilating.

The classroom, with its cozy size of about ten people, should have felt intimate, manageable. But instead, it felt like a pressure cooker. Every word, every glance, every single goddamn breath felt magnified.

You were staring blankly at the front of the room as your classmate, Akane, wrapped up her presentation on how to cook a traditional Japanese breakfast: tamagoyaki, miso soup, grilled fish, rice, and even a beautiful spread of pickled vegetables.

It sounded extravagant, yet she made it look so simple.

Probably because she didn't have to wrestle with the invisible, clawing beast of anxiety like you did every time you so much as thought about public speaking.

Your palms were sweaty, knees weak—okay, maybe not that dramatic, but still. You were jittery and nervous, your pulse a steady drum in your ears because you were up next. And Akane, bless her, was finishing up with a flourish, her smile bright and confident.

You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighten. Yuji, sitting right next to you, leaned over slightly, his shoulder brushing yours, and whispered, "Hey, you okay?"

You managed a stiff nod, mumbling out a barely audible, "Yeah." But you didn’t dare look at him, because you knew the concern in his eyes would undo you. Instead, you stared hard at the scratched-up desk in front of you, willing yourself not to freak out.

Yuji knew about your anxiety. You'd confided in him more than once, spilling the mess of thoughts that spiraled in your head before you had to speak in front of people.

How your heart raced, your mouth went dry, your hands shook. How no matter how much you prepared, how many times you practiced, your body still froze up.

It was like your brain and body were in this weird, dysfunctional relationship where neither of them wanted to cooperate.

"L/N-chan?" Your professor, Nitta Akari, said your name with that polite, expectant tone that sent another jolt of panic through you.

You opened your mouth, but before you could make any sound that resembled a response, Yuji spoke up.

"Sorry, teach, but is it alright if I go first? I'm a little shy…" His voice was as smooth and casual as ever, and you turned to look at him, utterly confused.

What the hell?

Nitta-sensei blinked but nodded, clearly caught off guard. "Uh, sure, Itadori-kun. Go ahead."

Yuji stood, giving you a quick wink as he made his way to the front of the room. You were still processing what just happened when he started speaking, but instead of launching into the well-thought-out paper on global warming you helped him prepare, he began with: "Mario, the Idea vs. Mario, the Man."

You blinked. Once. Twice.

What the fuck?

"Everyone knows Mario is cool as fuck. But who knows what he’s thinking? Who knows why he crushes turtles? And why do we think about him as fondly as we think of the mythical (nonexistent?) Dr. Pepper? Perchance…"  

You couldn't even react properly because he was already going off, delivering the opening lines with this bizarre mixture of enthusiasm and conviction, as if he was genuinely pondering the existential meaning of a pixelated plumber's life.

Everyone in the room, including Nitta-sensei, was staring at him with varying degrees of confusion.

There was a couple of snickers, and you saw one of your classmates, Yuki, already recording this on her phone, probably for TikTok.

Yuji, however, was undeterred, fully committing to the bit as he paced slightly, gesturing with his hands like he was giving a TED Talk. "Why does he crush turtles? Is it because he's saving the princess? Or is it because he's trying to save himself from his own internal void? Is it about the princess or the chase?"

You were sitting there, mouth slightly agape, because this was not what you spent hours helping him research. You'd spent countless nights, coffee-fueled and sleep-deprived, going over statistics and climate change projections, not pondering Mario’s deep-seated motivations for stomping on Goombas.

"And those mushrooms. Seriously, who decided that eating weird fungi would make you bigger? What kind of metaphorical bullshit is that? Some kind of growth narrative, maybe? Mario, the eternal underdog—"

"—Itadori-kun," Nitta-sensei interrupted, her voice carrying that unmistakable tone of an adult who's trying very hard to stay patient. Her eyebrow was twitching ever so slightly, and you could almost hear her internal scream as she tried to make sense of whatever the hell Yuji was talking about. "What point are you trying to make with this?"

Yuji blinked, completely unbothered, like he'd only just noticed he'd wandered off into another dimension of thought. "I dunno, but I think…" he trailed off, his eyes flickering around the room like he was looking for the answer somewhere in the air.

It was almost endearing, the way he tilted his head like a confused puppy, his lips pursed as if deep in thought.

There was a pregnant pause, the kind that stretched on just long enough to become uncomfortable. Nitta-sensei exhaled, the sound barely restrained, and she muttered his name again, "Itadori-kun." There was a warning there, a gentle push for him to get back on track, but you could tell her patience was wearing thin.

And in that moment, something in you snapped, like a rubber band stretched too far.

You knew you should let him flounder in his awkwardness, let him take the hit because, well, he put himself in this situation. But instead, you heard yourself saying, "I think Itadori-kun is trying to say that Mario isn't just a game character. He's a symbol of all the pointless shit we chase in life, only to find out the reward wasn't even in the castle—it was in the journey..." The words tumbled out in a rush, your voice wobbling slightly, and you felt the eyes of the entire class on you.

There was a beat of silence, then another, before Yuji broke into a grin, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Yup! That's what I was trying to say!" He clapped his hands together, looking almost proud, and you couldn't help but feel a little heat rise to your cheeks.

How does he make everything sound so simple, so obvious?

Nitta-sensei just sighed, rubbing her forehead like she was trying to ward off a headache. She looked at Yuji, then at you, then back at Yuji, her expression caught between exasperation and something almost like amusement. "Alright, thank you, Itadori-kun," she said finally, her voice dry. "For that… unique interpretation."

She waved a hand, clearly done with the whole ordeal. You could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like she was trying not to laugh, and it made you feel a tiny bit better.

At least she wasn't mad.

Just as she opened her mouth again, probably to call your name, the bell rang, loud and obnoxious and utterly glorious. You nearly sagged in relief, your muscles unwinding all at once.

The class collectively began to shuffle, packing up their things with the sluggish enthusiasm of students who had made it through yet another class.

Nitta-sensei sighed again, louder this time, and you almost felt bad for her. "Those of you who didn't present today will need to submit a recording since we spent too much time on…" She gestured vaguely at Yuji, who grinned sheepishly, "…this."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, relief flooding through you as you started packing up your things, all the tension and worry melting away like snow in the spring sun.

You glanced at Yuji, who was already waiting for you by the door, his bag slung over one shoulder, looking like he'd just casually won the lottery.

As you walked over, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him. "What the hell was that, Yuji? Why didn't you read the presentation we practiced?"

He shrugged, giving you a lopsided grin. "I saw you were nervous, and I figured if I made a fool of myself first, maybe you wouldn't be so worried. You know, like, break the ice or something."

Your heart gave a little flip at that, and you couldn’t help the small, soft smile that tugged at your lips. He'd always been like this since you met him—considerate in his own goofy, unpredictable way. "Thank you, Yuji..." you murmured, feeling your face heat up a bit, the corners of your mouth curling up despite yourself. "Seriously, that was… really sweet."

Yuji beamed at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No problem! I like being there for you, you'd do the same for me."

You giggled, the tension easing out of your shoulders as you nodded. "Alright, how about I buy you lunch at The Den to fully show my appreciation. Deal?"

"Deal!" He practically bounced on his feet, his energy infectious, as he reached out and took your hand, his fingers interlocking with yours in a warm, comfortable grip.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but his touch was gentle and familiar, and you found yourself relaxing, your hand fitting perfectly in his.

"Come on, I'm craving those teriyaki burgers!" he said, already pulling you into the hallway, the two of you blending into the sea of students rushing off to their next classes.

You couldn't help but shake your head, a fond smile playing on your lips as you let him drag you along, your heart feeling a little lighter, your worries a little less daunting.

Maybe public speaking wasn't your thing, but having someone like Yuji by your side, you figured you'll be just fine.

A/N: hahaha i just couldn't help myself after seeing this meme going around online...

[pianokantzart]

F#ck now i ship luigi and DK

I mean...

... You wouldn't be wrong for it.

[hairmetal666]

No one knows who writes the Hawkins High Tattler. It comes out every week, without fail, has for almost two decades. Everyone reads it, even teachers, even parents. It's caused more the one suspension, grounding, and even--famously--a shipping off to boarding school.

Steve's never let the Tattler get to him much. He's in it, of course, practically a new story every week. But it's just silly gossip.

Of course, Steve is also, currently, the titular Tattler, so. It's not like he's surprised when his name shows up.

It's his third year, his last year, and he knows everything that ever goes on at Hawkins High. It's pretty easy, honestly. Everyone thinks he's ditzy and vapid; nothing more than hairspray and polos. People will say anything around him, assuming he's not listening or not interested, and then bam. It's in next week's Tattler. No one even suspects him.

The confessions locker probably helps. Down by the theater, busted and unusable, the perfect place for people to leave tips, to tattle on their friends (or enemies, as the case may be).

That's what he's doing right now, checking the confessions locker. After 9:30 on a Friday night, the place silent as the tomb, perfect time for it. Pretty standard fare this week. The only thing of interest is that Eddie Munson was the person who broke all Ms. Click's pencils and left the stubs on her desk. This one, he laughs at, can't wait to publish it; can't wait to talk to Munson about it.

He gets a lot of stuff about Eddie. Most of it he doesn't publish because it's bullshit about satanic rituals--the nerdy kids he babysits play dnd, and there's no way Karen Wheeler is letting anything satanic happen in her basement--or about his sexuality, and one thing Steve doesn't do is out people.

Gathering up this week's submissions, he closes the locker with a soft clink, and he swears, swears he hears the squeak of a tennis shoe on the polished tile of the floor. He freezes, heart in his throat. Nobody has been here this late before.

Seconds pass but there's only silence. Confident he's only hearing things, he heads out, the parking lot just as empty as when he arrived.

---

He sees Eddie a few days later, when he's picking up the kids from the arcade. They typically exchange casual greetings, but as Steve waits, Eddie stands with him, offers him a cigarette.

"Read that was you who messed with Click's pencils. Good one."

Eddie shrugs, gives a little bow and a smile. "Happy to be of service."

"It was my class, when she found them. Never seen her so mad."

"No way," Eddie laughs. "Not even when Hagan drew dicks on all the textbooks?"

"Not even then, man. She was throwing pencil stubs everywhere."

"Fuck, sad I missed it." Eddie takes a drag, Steve's eyes following the movement, lingering on his mouth. Something warm and tingling builds at the base of his spine and he forces his gaze away.

"How long you in detention for?"

"I'm not. Swore it wasn't me, and Click doesn't want to admit she reads the Tattler, so. Not much they could do. "

"I've seen it sitting on her desk!"

"I know! She reads it when she has detention duty!"

They lean against Steve's car, laughing, and Steve feels good. This is good. He likes Eddie. He's funny and dramatic and smart and kind. He's not deserving of any of the mean things that get submitted to the Tattler.

The kids come streaming into the parking lot then, and Eddie stubs out his cigarette, says "see you around, Harrington," and Steve finds himself flushing for reasons he can't quite explain.

---

He starts seeing Eddie around way more. He's in school most days, smoking in the parking lot after the last bell, chatting with Steve in the hallways.

It shows up in the Tattler; big news that the King and the Freak are hanging out. Most of the submissions are about it, increasingly elaborate rumors about their supposedly deep, close friendship.

He wishes he could tell Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie invites him to smoke at the quarry. He doesn't hesitate to say yes, doesn't even bother to try ignoring the swoop in his stomach, the speed of his heart.

They sprawl out in the back of the van, Eddie's loud, raucous music pounding around them, sharing a joint back and forth.

Steve gets hazy, boneless, can't stop watching Eddie, the way his lips purse around the joint, his long hair glinting gold in the weak light of the camping lanterns, the pleased shine of his eyes every time he makes Steve laughs.

He likes Eddie so much. Everything about him, honestly. Butterflies ping in his stomach, happy and slow, and he thinks how nice Eddie's lips are, wonders how soft they must be. And he thinks--he's read the submissions, right--he knows the things they say about Eddie, and he wishes it was true, he wants--he wants--

He wants

---

Steve's running late to check the locker. Lost track of time at the diner with Eddie, and it's making him panic.

He stuffs the submissions haphazardly into the pocket of his hoodie, dancing with nerves, willing himself to grab them all and get out.

Locker emptied, he sprints towards the exit. He has a second to process someone barreling towards him in the dark, but he's going too fast to stop, can only brace himself as they collide.

It sends him sliding across the floor, Tattler submissions spilling out of his pocket like snow. He hits the ground, scrabbling for the papers, praying that whoever is here with him can't see them in the low light.

Hands grips his biceps. "Stevie, Steve, we have to get out of here" and there's a second where he's comforted by the familiar rasp of Eddie's voice before terror spikes again.

He pulls himself from Eddie's grasp, searching for any dropped submissions in easy reach. "Wha--why--what's--"

"I ran into Jason Carver and his band of idiots at the gas station. They're on their way to here to try to catch the Tattler in action."

Steve freezes. "I don't--that's not--I--"

In the deep silence of the empty school, they both hear the slamming of a door, a bitten off giggle. Eddie grabs his wrist and they run. Into the theater room, through a door Steve didn't know existed, to the backstage area of the auditorium.

"You should be safe here," Eddie says.

Panic spirals through him. "I can explain. I was just--I forgot a--I needed--"

"Harrington! I know, okay? I already know."

Steve can only blink at him, swallows rough in his throat. "What--Eddie, I--"

"I saw you. Weeks ago. Forgot my notebook in the theater room after Hellfire and had to run back for it. You were there, at the locker."

"You can't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to."

"No, Munson, you really can't. Nobody can know. Nobody--"

"Swe--Stevie, I promise. The secret's safe with me." He rocks back on his heels, chewing on his lip for a second before he continues. " I--I couldn't figure you out, you know? I saw you around with those kids and it didn't make any sense. King Steve, babysitting tiny nerds? But I saw you at the locker and..."

"You're giving me too much credit, man."

"I don't think so. You're never--fuck, Harrington--you're never mean. At least, not in the last couple years. You spread gossip, but you don't punch down, and you're funny as hell. Mean as shit too, but only to the people who deserve it."

His ears burn and he looks down. "Just because I have fucking--fucking editorial standards doesn't mean that I'm anything special."

Eddie scoffs. "Remember, Stevie, I was reading it a year before you were here. Cruel, vapid garbage. Always the most vile, pointless stories about people who couldn't defend themselves. And how many submissions have you gotten about me, for instance, that you've never used?"

Steve clenches his fists. "I would never--"

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. That's why I li--You're so fucking good, Stevie."

He laughs, ears burning. "I'm really not, Eddie. I try to write about fun gossip that can't hurt anyone too much, and nobody's found me out because they think I'm too dumb--"

Eddie reaches out then, fingers connecting softly with the edge of Steve's jaw. He can't help but lean into the touch, eyes flickering closed.

"You don't want to hurt people because you're fucking kind. You know how I know for sure? You must get submissions every week about me, and you've never once printed that I'm--" Eddie stops then, swallowing hard.

Steve's throat goes tight. He rests his hand over Eddie's, still holding his face. "Me too," he whispers. "Kind of. I like--it's both. For me."

"Oh," Eddie breathes, mouth lifting in a bright, beautiful smile that Steve can't help but return.

He's watching, sees when Eddie's gaze drifts his lips, making his breath hitch. He doesn't really think about closing the distance between them, slotting their mouths together in a tentative, gentle kiss.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you, Steve Harrington? Eddie asks when they part.

Steve blushes. "That's sort of the last of them."

"Sure. Next you'll be telling me you've played dnd."

"I have a character."

"What???"

"Human paladin. Dustin worked on it with me. Ready to get out of here?"

"Human paladin," Eddie gapes. "You know--you said--what's happening?"

Steve twines their fingers together, leading Eddie towards the auditorium exit. "Well, first we're going to walk out to my car and then we're going to my house, and we're going to look through Tattler submissions. Maybe makeout a little bit."

Eddie giggles. "What the fuck? Like. What the fuck, sweetheart?"

He turns to face Eddie, smile big and pure and bright with happiness. "If you're really nice to me, I'll let you help write this week's issue."

"Oh, oh. You're going to wreck me." Eddie mumbles, almost to himself.

"If you're lucky." Steve beams.

[goldfades]

𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "paige x iowa!reader (pre-relationship) on game day where maybe r is mic'd up the whole time so fans hear how they flirt, joke around, etc so they start shipping them? the other uconn/iowa girlies always tease them abt it and one night they all go out to a bar tg and someones on live and accidentally catches p and r against a wall kissing or smthn 🫣" for my lovely disco nonnie!

─ word count | 2.6k

─ warnings | teasing, lots and LOTS of teasing, mention of injuries, so much flirting, teasing, slightly suggestive, kissing.... oh and did i mention teasing????

─ taglist | guys idk why my taglist isn't working pls help me and lmk

─ ev's notes | okay so i want to know if yall like the little comment section i put in some of the posts, because i love doing them and i wanna know what ur thoughts are.

"OKAY, HEY LADIES and gents. It's your favorite, me. Y/N L/N," you tried to whisper into the mic secretively as you looked around. Before you could continue talking, you felt Caitlin grab your shoulders and shake you, eliciting a yelp from you.

You sent her a glare as she giggled and walked away, causing you to roll your eyes. "Anyways, sorry for that stupid interruption. It's game day here at Iowa and we're going against... I don't even remember their names."

You were obviously joking, you had plenty of friends on the UConn basketball team and it was running joke that you didn't like them. You smirked into the camera, knowing full well that your faux ignorance would rile up some competition.

"But hey, who needs names when we've got game, am I right?" You grinned, your enthusiasm showing. "So, while we prepare to show those other guys what real basketball looks like, let's talk strategy."

Leaning in closer to the microphone, you adopted a more serious tone, though the mischievous glint in your eye remained. "First off, we gotta dominate the boards. Rebounds win games, folks. Then, we'll run those fast breaks like there's no tomorrow. Speed kills, baby."

You paused for dramatic effect, pretending to adjust an imaginary headset. "And of course, let's not forget about defense. Lock 'em down, make 'em work for every shot. That's how we do it here at Iowa."

You turned around to see some of your teammates giggling at you, causing you to roll your eyes. "I'm getting bullied again, guys. Remember amazing, hot and very cool players have feelings too, okay?"

"Can you shut the hell up and come stretch with us?" You heard Caitlin shout from the court, causing you to sigh dramatically.

With a playful wink at the camera, you turned away, joining your teammates on the court for the pre-game warm-up. As you stretched and bantered with them, you saw the opponents walk in. You couldn't help but bit your lower lip as you averted your gaze from a particular blonde whom you've gotten close to these last couple of months.

After last year's game, Paige followed you on Instagram and you began talking more. However when you two got injured around the same time, it caused you two to talk more and form a closer bond. Eventually, it turned into Paige texting and calling you every single day and now, it's like you two have known each other your entire lives despite you guys seeing each other face to face three times.

You couldn't help but steal glances at her as you stretched, a small smile playing on your lips whenever your eyes met. The familiar banter and teasing between your teams seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn to her presence.

But amidst the closeness, there lingered an unspoken tension ─ a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach whenever Paige's eyes met yours, or the way your heart raced whenever she flashed you a smile.

Caitlin's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. "Yo, Y/N! Focus up, we've got a game to win!"

"Oh my gosh, look it's serious Caitlin I'm so scared," you spoke into the mic quietly, hoping that she wouldn't hear you. Unfortunately, she did and she got up, holding up her hand as you put your hands over your head. "No, I'm sorry!"

Caitlin laughed at your antics, her laughter infectious as she waved off your dramatic apology. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, Y/N," she teased, giving you a playful shove before turning back to the team. "But seriously, let's focus up. We've got a game to win, and I don't plan on losing to those guys."

"Yeah, me neither." She helped you get up from the floor as you walked to the bench. "Thanks, Cait," you said with a grin, falling into step beside her as you made your way to the bench.

As you settled onto the bench, you took a moment to mentally prepare yourself for the game ahead. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the echoing noise of the crowd, and the anticipation building in the air all served to fuel your determination.

You rose to your feet, eyes fixed on the court ahead. With a quick glance at the UConn's lineup, you immediately spotted Paige among their starting players. Your heart rate quickened slightly as you realized the task at hand — you needed to guard Paige and shut down her scoring opportunities.

In any other situation, it would be easy. Even if the person you were guarding was someone you were friends with, you always made sure to stay professional but this was slightly different. Paige had been the theoretical shoulder you'd been crying on for the last year about your injury that you'd just healed from.

As you stepped onto the court, Caitlin's words from earlier echoed in your mind. You couldn't afford to let Paige get the better of you, not today. You made your way toward Paige and as she met your eyes, she gave you a small smile. You could still talk to her, right? She held out her hand for a quick dap-up and you accepted it gratefully.

"Bro, me and Nika were just talking about how your hair is probably gonna be perfect. You have the best game day hair," Paige spoke finally as you laughed nervously, your gaze momentarily averting to the floor then back to her.

You felt yourself blush under her gaze as you playfully brushed off the compliment. "Oh, you think so, huh?" you smiled, trying to keep the mood light despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Well, what can I say? Gotta look good for the cameras,"

Paige smirked in response. "Oh, trust me, you always do," she teased, her words laced with a playful flirtation that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked into Paige's eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that washed over you. There was something about her presence, her easy smile, that made you feel at ease, even in the midst of a game.

"Says you, with your cute braids. You gotta teach me how to do those one day, you know." You playfully nudged Paige's shoulder, a smile spreading across your face."Now you're just showing off," you teased, your tone light and playful as you admired the braids that framed Paige's face.

Paige chuckled, a soft sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Or I can just do them for you once you actually visit Connecticut, like you promised."

You just realized that you were mic'd up, as you glanced down at the mic. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Alright, alright, you've got yourself a deal," you replied with a playful wink.

You then felt Kate's hand tap on your shoulder, motioning for you to come to the bench with her. Paige gave you a small smile as she did the same, your heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. With one last glance at Paige, filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you followed Kate to the bench.

"Are you gonna lock in, Y/N?" Caitlin's voice rang out as you glanced up at the tall brunette. You saw the slight smirk on her lips as she gazed at you, teasing you without saying anything. She was practically screaming "you're whipped!" as she did.

"Yeah, I'm locked in," you responded as you averted your gaze, laughter echoing in between your teammates as a blush covered your cheeks.

"You know, cus if you're not, I can guard Paige while you go shoot-"

"Oh shut up, Caitlin I hate you." You groaned, causing her to laugh along with the rest of the team. Caitlin's teasing banter was a familiar part of the pre-game ritual, and despite your protest, you couldn't help but smile at her antics.

"Hey, just looking out for you, Y/N," she teased, her tone lighthearted as she flashed you a grin.

As the referee's whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, you shook off any lingering distractions and locked into the moment. This was it the moment you had been waiting for. With a deep breath, you blocked out the noise of the crowd and zeroed in on the game plan.

At one point, as you and Paige push for position under the basket, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Paige jokingly accused you of stealing her post moves. "Hey, imitation is a form of flattery, right?" you quipped, earning a playful shove from Paige in response.

But perhaps the most memorable moment came when you and Paige found yourselves face-to-face during a heated confrontation for the ball. With the game hanging in the balance, you couldn't help but exchange a playful smirk with Paige, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.

Iowa had ultimately won the game but there was no bad blood between the two teams (thankfully), players from both teams exchanged handshakes and congratulatory words, acknowledging the hard-fought battle that had unfolded on the court.

Sure, some of the players were a little hurt but it wasn't like it was the end of the world. However, you knew at some point the two teams would have to play against each other during play-offs but you didn't let yourself get too worried right now. Right now, it was important to savor the moment, to celebrate the hard-fought victory with your teammates and bask in the camaraderie of the game.

──

"You looked good," Paige spoke as she leaned against the wall of the bar. Some of the girls on the team wanted to go out and celebrate and the UConn girls wanted to join. And that was how you found yourself standing next to Paige, a little tipsy as you leaned against the wall beside her, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks at her compliment.

"Thanks, you too," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. You felt yourself shy away from her gaze, a stark contrast to how you usually were ─ teasing and outgoing.

Paige noticed that quickly, a small smirk appearing on her lips as she took a tip of her drink. "Aw, look at you, all flustered," she teased, her tone light and teasing as she nudged your shoulder gently.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you replied, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Gotta stay humble, right?"

Paige laughed, the sound sweet and infectious as she leaned closer to you. "Don't worry, I think you can handle it," she said with a smirk, her words sending a shiver down your spine.

She gazed at you for a little longer as you looked away, only for her to grab your chin and hold it so that you kept looking at her. With a soft chuckle, Paige leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You're cute when you're flustered,"

"I never thought that you could be shy, you know... with all that shit-talking on and off the court." Paige remarked as she let go of your chin, her gaze still heavy on you. "It's kinda giving me an ego boost,"

"Oh shut up," you mumbled as you took a sip from your own drink, Paige's gaze following your lips. There was something about the way she looked at you, the way her eyes seemed to linger on your lips, that made your heart race.

As you lowered your drink, you met Paige's gaze once more, a playful glint in your eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, you know," you replied with a smirk.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I know," she teased, her voice low and teasing as she leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in her eye.

She wasn't usually ever this cocky, sure she's had her moments but never to this extent ─ she didn't know if it was the alcohol or just you. There was something about her self-assured demeanor that was both enticing and captivating, drawing you in with each exchanged word and shared laugh.

"Well, aren't you just full of yourself tonight?" you teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in closer to her.

"Can you blame me?" Paige replied with a grin, her confidence unwavering as she met your gaze. "I mean, if you had a pretty girl getting flustered over every word you say, even after her beat team yours, you'd be feeling pretty confident too," she continued, her playful tone tinged with a hint of desire as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath grazing your skin.

"Well, I guess I can't argue with that," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing as you leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in your eye. "But just remember, I'm not one to stay flustered for long."

With a playful smile, she leaned in closer to you. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to enjoy a challenge."

Her eyes kept flickering down to your lips as she downed her drink, putting it down on the table next to you. She leaned in closer, as if to test the water, grazing her lips against yours as your breath hitched.

She took your reaction as a yes, her hands finding your hips as she pushed you against the wall. She pushed her lips into yours in a hurried kiss, the intensity of her touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

You responded eagerly, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as you pulled her closer, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the moment. With a sense of urgency, Paige deepened the kiss, her hands exploring the contours of your body with hunger.

The taste of her lips was intoxicating, a heady mix of alcohol and longing that left you breathless. You forgot all about your teammates and who might see this and recognize the two of you, because neither of you really cared anymore.

Jada drank her water as she kept skimming through the comments of the live, reading them and chuckling at every remark toward you and Paige. Kate was behind her, momentarily blocking from everyone seeing what you two were currently up to.

Kate heard someone call her name as she quickly got up from her spot, turning to respond to the voice. As she moved away, the brief obstruction she provided from prying eyes was gone, leaving you and Paige momentarily exposed.

As Jada's gaze flickered to the screen, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. "Oh shit- I mean, shoot." She quickly moved her phone as she glanced at the sight, giving the camera a shocked look as she thought about what she should do.

She had basically just outed the two of you but to be completely fair, it was on you two for making out in a very public bar. "Guys, don't worry that wasn't Paige that was just some other blonde. Sorry guys, you know how Y/N has a thing for blondes."

She sighed as she locked eyes with Kate, who gave her a shocked expression as she looked down at her phone. Kate gave her a look before Jada looked down at her phone, laughing as she waved.

"Looks like we are gonna have to end the live, sorry guys. Love you, bye, mwah mwah."

Paige finally broke the kiss, leaving the both of you to catch your breath. She smiled as her finger swiped your bottom lip, tracing the outline of it gently. You couldn't help but catch your breath, the taste of her lingering on your lips like a sweet memory.

"You're fucking beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips again.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 2

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

(Things get a bit angsty here for a bit, but don't worry, it gets back to some of the cracky-goodness!)

After allowing himself to relax for a bit and actually letting his muscles loosen for once, Jason rose from the bath and rinsed himself off under a piping hot and strong shower. He finished the rinse off with a flash of cold water to focus back up and made his way to the vanity where there was basic hotel amenities. He attempted to style his hair and after at least drying it, pulled on the fluffiest robe he has felt since he first moved into the manor all those years ago.

Fuck. The family. The Outlaws...

Jason put his face in both his hands and took a deep breath, then allowed his shoulders to slump as he dragged his hands from his face to his sides. He marched in a lazy manor over to the end of the large bed where he flopped face down. Surprisingly, it wasn't as fluffy as he was expecting and he silently thanked whatever force there was that he wouldn't have to resort to sleeping on the floor or a chair for the familiarity. Though, he turned his head to face the windows, that little reading nook looks like I could easily fall asleep there.

No, stop it. Do I remember the Dimensional Code for home?

Jason contemplated. On one hand, it could be useful, on the other, they could have an entirely different category system here. He spent the next however long trying to remember the dimensional code for his Earth and tracing the swirls of purples and greens out the large windows. A knock startled him.

"Jason? Are you decent?" He stood quickly and pulled the robe tighter together, not quite ready to show his autopsy scars to his soul-owner? A literal goddess? He wasn't quite sure what she was yet.

"Uh, yes, come in, I'm covered." He tried to stand casually next to the bed when he had just been sitting, his hands now in his pockets.

"Hi, so one of my aides figured one thing out about the ritual that is somewhat concerning and also something I probably also should have brought up. Mind if we sit at the window?" She strode in and settled herself with a pillow against the window and waited for him to do the same. Once he was settled, she hesitated for a moment before sighing and looking out the window to the haunting site outside.

"The Infinite Realms has another name, one coined from my Earth." She licked her lips before she spoke again. "It's also known as the Ghost Zone. As the dimension between dimensions, it is also where beings known as ghosts, the Restless Dead, Neverborn, Gods, and all sorts of other beings that thrive off a substance known as ectoplasm reside. As such, I am current Queen Regent of Ghosts." She let him think for a moment before turning to him. "That means I can tell when someone is death-touched." Jason froze. "I didn't mention it before because I know it's super personal, but then my aide figured out that the ritual only worked because of the fact you are and especially since you had spent time here-" She cut herself off as his eyes just bugged out larger with every word that spilled from her lips. "Sorry, I just, I'm death-touched too. I haven't died yet, but I have been around death magic, or radiation, or whatever it is, since before conception. I don't know exactly what you went through, but I know it was deeply traumatic. I can have my healers take a look at your soul and see if it's alright because it kinda radiates a bit how traumatic it was." She bit her lip with one hand raised near her chin.

Jason closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw tight and blowing the air harshly out his nose. He fell back against the window, allowing his head to knock against the glass. It was warm, as though the sunlight was gently shining upon it. "Yeah." He croaked. "Yeah, I died." He said softer. "I was dead for roughly six months." He dipped his head forward to block his face with his bangs. "Crawled outta my own grave." He laughed bitterly. "Spent a while wandering, a while more in a coma." He swallowed tickly. "Got picked up by my dad's vindictive ex and trained for a while to be an assassin." He looked up at her, making eye contact. "She dunked me in this pit of magic shit, we call it a Lazarus pit in my dimension. It cures those near death and kills the healthy. Fixed me up the rest of the way, or at least the scars and issues I had pre-death. I got to keep these." He allowed the top of the robe to fall away, showing the tops of the large y-shaped scar that ran the length of his torso. She gasped, both hands coming to cover her mouth, tears began to form in her eyes. She reached out as if to touch them and stopped herself, her face turning determined.

"I, Jazmine Nightingale, High Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms, the Mediator, the Caretaker, and all those other titles." She waved her wrist. "Declare that I will help you however you deem necessary. Whether that be helping your soul, returning you to your dimension, breaking this binding, or whatever. You are currently bound to you, and as such that makes you my responsibilities." She paused in her speech for a moment, thinking. "I mean, you're already technically one of my subjects because I think you qualify as one of the Restless Dead, but we'll figure out your classification when we take you to a healer. For now, it has been a long day. I will have one of my aides come to get your measurements for some clothes, I'm sure we have some around here somewhere that should fit you at least for dinner. The aides can get any style you like and it can be made quickly by the seamstresses we have on staff." At his hesitation she added with a smile, "They work in supernatural means, they will not overwork themselves by making an entire wardrobe in a few hours."

She patted the cushion in front of her and stood. "I will meet you at dinner, it's not formal at all, don't worry about dressing fancy, I'm just still in this getup from 'official queen stuff'" she said with air quotes looking tired. "I'll see you in a bit Jason!"

"Yes, um, your majesty." He stood to bow, the robe making it a bit difficult."

"Just Jazz please, for the love of the Ancients." She said with a pained look on her face.

"Right, sorry," he stammered, straightening, "See you later, Jazz." She smiled softly before leaving him to himself. He smacked his hand to his face groaning at himself before flopping face-first into the bed again. "She's the ruler of the dead and she's so determined and nice, what the actual hell? She's so earnest, it's so cute!" he sat up leaning his elbow on his knee. "Okay, operation Romance Plot is go. She isn't put off by the fact you died, this is good, I can work with this. Okay, so castle, let's go with that aesthetic. I'm thinking let's go with a poet shirt and some black slacks for dinner tonight." He claps his hands in front of him, decision made.

As if summoned by his words, there was another knock at the door. A man with bright sky blue skin and a deep plum butler's uniform opened the door, a measuring tape casually thrown over his shoulders.

"Yes, hello good sir. What aesthetic are we thinking for this evening?" he said in a posh accent.

Jason clasped his hands together. "What should I call you? Would you possibly have a poet's shirt and a pair of black formal slacks for this evening?"

"You may call me Jeeves. Yes that Jeeves. I am the personification of the trope of the helpful butler, and as such my power set includes anything and everything that could help me complete the duties of head butler of the High Family's home. We absolutely do have that attire on hand, it would be but a moment for someone to fetch it for us. Now did you have any ideas about future attire?" Jeeves snapped his fingers and a skeleton manifested in a swirl of dust to obey his silent command to gather the requested clothing.

Jason paused for a moment, considering. "How does the Queen usually dress casually around the castle? I know she said she was from an Earth. I don't know where in the timeline her Earth is from and she mentioned that what she was wearing earlier was mostly for special occasions, so I don't want to look like an idiot." He explained.

"Very good sir, she typically dresses in either a less formal toga if she's to be seen anywhere near the public areas of the castle, her armor whilst sparring with her knights, the High Princes and Princess, and if she is only going between her room and study then her far less formal Earth clothing which is a long sleeved blouse and lightwash jeans, typical of the late 1990's and early 2000's."

Jason thought for a moment. He didn't know how long he would be stuck here, but decided that clothes enough to last a fortnight should work. For all he knew, time flowed differently between here and his home dimension. Decision made, he told the butler what he wanted. Measurements were taken, the skeleton arrived with the requested clothes and Jason was left to change into his clothes for the evening. He still is wearing his combat boots because he forgot to ask for a pair of shoes.

Once changed, he realized that he still probably had a bit before dinner and he walked over to one of the bookshelves browsing the titles. There were several classics that he recognized, his favorite, Pride and Prejudice, was there. There were a few as well with Jane Austen's name, but not titles he recognized. He decided to come back to those later and pulled what looked like a collection of fairy tales from the shelf then settled himself lounging in the window nook to read for the next few hours.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

On Crystal Waters

AKA On Silk Sheets Part Two. (The pirate!au.) Or you don't feel like you belong in your husband's new life, but good luck convincing him of that. No smut in this one, but there is suggestive dialogue. ~2.5k words

It's not that you regret sleeping with your husband, it's more of the fact you didn't quite think it all the way through. Yes, you missed him. Yes, you might even still love him. But, he's built an entire life for himself without you.

You've seen it the past two weeks, the way he seamlessly works with his crew, how maneuvering about his ship is second nature. It makes you feel out of place. Even if you've slowly come to learn the names of the other pirates, it doesn't change the feeling that you're a piece of his past.

You can't help but wonder if you're even more than someone to warm his bed. The restless anxieties draw you to the deck just before dawn, unable to sleep even with him next to you. You're surprised he doesn't wake, but it makes it easier, allowing you a moment to your thoughts. It's nice, to watch the sun start to peak over the horizon, to see land slowly drawing closer. The quiet doesn't last long.

"We'll be docking soon."

You turn, eyes fixating on one of the pirates, Roy, you think, "Which port is this?"

He settles next to you at the railing, "Star Port, unless Jason changes his mind. He's been cautious since the navy ship tried to chase us down."

You sigh softly, the memory of cannons and shouting and swords being drawn flashing in your mind, "What's it like?"

"Star Port?" Roy replies cheerily, "you'll like it. Lively markets, great taverns, and nice views for a port city. Easy to get lost in, though, lots of winding alleys. Best stick close to someone."

"I'll keep that in mind," You murmur, eyes trailing back to the distant port.

"Something botherin' you, Sweetheart?"

"Are you looking to hear my secrets, Harper?" You drawl, idly tapping the wooden railing.

He huffs a laugh, "Have you got someone better to spill them to? I'm the closest thing you have to a friend at the moment, so spill away."

You tut, side eyeing him, "There's no need to rub it in. I'm well aware I'm alone on a pirate ship with complete strangers, an estranged husband, and not one person loyal to me."

He chuckles and shrugs at you, an easy going smile painting his face, "I'm going to take that as a no, and will take my place as the closest person you've got to call your friend. Congratulations, sweetheart, we both should be honored."

You raise a hand to your head and fake a swoon. It's nice, to joke around with someone like this after weeks of uncertainty and walking on eggshells, "my closest friend, here to console me over my husband moving on."

"Is that what's got you so down?" Roy asks curiously, and you curse yourself for letting it out, "The Captain's a right mess when it comes to ya. Lovesick, obsessed, head over feet, whatever you wanna call it."

You sigh and focus back on the city growing larger and larger, "He has other things now."

Roy leans closer and bumps his arm with yours, "Cheer up, sweetheart, you're with us now. You're family too. And you got Jason chasing after you like a dog. That bastard won't let anything happen to ya. He'll move the sun stars for you. So don't worry yourself over anything, the only thing you have to be concerned about is your captain's love sickness. We'll take care of the rest."

You falter over his words, throat tightening, "Why?"

"Why what?" He asks, raising a brow and giving you an incredulous look, "Why are we lookin' out for you? Why do we have your back already? Because that's what we do. Family has each other's backs. That includes you. You're one of us now. Whether you like it or not."

His words are a stark reminder, Jason's crew is nothing like you expected from a pirate lords ship. But Jason hasn't exactly matched up to the tales of 'Red Hood ' either. "A family," you breathe out.

Roy nods, "Don't get me wrong, sweetheart. Jason's as ruthless as he's cold, knows how to take his pound of flesh. I've seen him beat his enemies senseless with just his fists, but he's saved each and every one of us. We're loyal to him, and he's loyal to us."

You take in the information slowly, "It's... good. That he's loved."

"Loved ones way to put," Roy agrees, "crew practically worships the ground he walks on." He eyes you for a moment, "Does it bother you? Knowing that everyone here cares about him?"

You shake your head, "No. I know he made a life for himself without me. It's– I'm glad he wasn't alone."

Roy looks baffled. "That's not what I was expecting, lass."

"I do want what's best for him," You mumble, "even if best doesn't include me. I don't want him to be alone. And he's easy to love. I'm not surprised he built a new life."

"You care for him more than I thought you did," he admits, a bittersweet smile on his face, "I'd hope my wife still loved me too, even if we weren't next to each other anymore."

You wince, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You don't need to bottle it up. You're allowed to feel, allowed to let it out and talk about what you're going through. I'm glad to listen," Roy tells you steadily, patting your shoulder.

You offer him a small smile, "It's nice to have someone listen."

"You know the captain would listen, too. I know it's hard to talk to him about him, but he'd give you anything you asked. Hell, you could ask him to go swim in shark and jellyfish infested waters butt naked and he'd do it. No questions."

You laugh, "What a silly thing to ask for. I think I'll just stick to asking to visit the market."

"I'm serious, sweetheart, you could say you wanted him to jump off the side of the ship and he'd ask what side. You have no idea how much he adores you. Just wait and see. The only answer you'll get from him is, 'Yes, love.' Probably clear out the whole treasury on whatever you set your sights on," Roy drawls, grin widening with each word.

You hum thoughtfully, "I suppose that sounds like him."

He laughs, "Don't get me wrong, Captain's a tough guy. Smart, clever, strong as an ox and meaner than a crocodile with a toothache, but it all goes away 'round you. Turns right into a pup with no brains at all when you're near."

You can't help but laugh with him, "Sounds like a bit of an exaggeration."

He grins brightly at you, "Hardly, sweetheart. Why, he'll probably cause a whole scene when he wakes you and you're not there. You know, storm around the ship, calling your name, shoutin' at the top of his lungs and scaring half the crew into thinking there's a monster on board. It'll be quite the show."

You shoot a look towards the captains quarters, "He wouldn't, right? There's nowhere for me to go but his ship."

"Ah, he's the dramatic type. Wouldn't put it past him to go into a frenzy over not finding you in his bed," Roy teases, crossing his arms lazily over his chest.

"Maybe I should go back," You murmur, worry crossing your face.

Roy pats your shoulder, "No need. Captains not an idiot, after all. He'll come out here lookin' for you soon enough."

You sigh, slumping against the railing as the ship draws closer to port, "If you say so."

He laughs, "Speak of the devil. Look who's coming to join us."

You don't bother to turn and look as Roy offers a cheeky 'morning' to your husband on his way off to prepare for docking. You hear a sleepy grunt in response before two strong arms wrap around your waist, tugging you back from the railing into a broad chest.

You make a noise of protest, but Jason only holds you tighter, nuzzling his face to your shoulder, "Coulda woke me up, darlin', if you wanted to go on deck."

"You were sleeping. And I was making friends with your crew," You answer, shifting his grip, "You should be happy about that, you know"

"I am happy you're making friends. But Harper? Out of my whole crew, you pick Harper? You just had to choose the one crew member who's most likely to encourage you to do something stupid," Jason grumbles into your neck.

You tilt your head slightly, letting his lips ghost over your skin, "He didn't offer any particularly encouraging ideas, Jason."

"Really?" He asks, disbelieving, "No cunning escape plans?"

"He's too loyal to you to help me with that, I think," you answer mindlessly. Escape plans. It's not like you have anything concrete. You only threatened to jump off the ship a few times. And you don't even know if you want to leave. But the thought persists that it might be better. Better for him. That both of you have changed too much to work. That you don't fit as a pirate's spouse.

Jason hums in approval, "Good."

"Oh, Jason?" You start, turning in his arms to face him, "I'd like to go to the market today. I don't– I didn't get to grab anything when we– uh– left."

"Of course, darlin'," Jason agrees easily, pressing a kiss to your hair, "whatever you need."

"I don't have any money," You continue, hesitant, "But I could–"

"You don't need it," Jason cuts you off firmly, "Anything I have is yours. The finest silk, the purest gold, the most sparkling jewels, all of it. We're married, pretty. You're my partner. I want to take care of you. Okay?"

"Okay," You echo, too stunned to argue. But that's exactly like him, the man who risked the sea again and again to bring home finer and better things to you.

He grins, bright eyes leaving you to focus on the growing number of crew members on deck, “Looks like my crew’s finally waking up. About time to dock, it looks like. Get excited, love. You’re in for a treat. This port’s a party. We’ll have no problem finding some fun and whatever you want to buy here." He lets go of your waist to grab your hand, pulling it up for a kiss, "Perhaps you'll let me buy you a new ring while we're on land."

"A new ring?" You question, somewhat distracted but the shouts and noises from the crew as they prepare to dock, "Shouldn't you be helping them?"

Jason's shrugs, amused, "The crew can run themselves. They've docked enough times that it's like clockwork to them. And yes, love, a new ring. One fitting of a pirate lord's partner."

You study him, "They do call you that, don't they?"

He practically beams, voice going light and teasing, "You've heard? The crew of The Outlaw are somewhat of a legend. They tell tales of my skill with a sword. My prowess in battle. My strength and power. My sheer terror. They shiver at the mention of my name."

You laugh, tone skeptical, despite knowing the truth. He has his reputation for a reason, "Is that so?"

"Do you doubt me, my love?" Jason drawls, shifting closer to you, "Do you doubt your husband's skill? His prowess? Do I not impress you enough, darling?"

You tut, "Forgive me if I'm more interested in a new port than I am my husband's tall tales."

He flashes a faux hurt look, his hand pressed dramatically to his chest as he replies with a mock-offended tone, "Oh, I see how it is. You prefer the port to my tales. You'd prefer to explore a new port than hear about my latest adventure. I know how it is. My own spouse prefers a new port to my tales of triumph."

You can't help but grin at him, he looks so much like the person you married in this moment, "I'm sure you can regale me with stories once we're back out at sea."

"Oh, I plan to, treasure," he reaches up to trace your face, "I plan to share everything with you."

You open your mouth to answer, though you're not sure with what, when you're cut off by Roy, "Captain, should we drop the gang plank?"

Jason grins, and takes your hand, pulling you towards the plank, "Aye, Harper. We're going to buy out the entire market for my love today. Make sure our favorite tavern is prepared with enough ale for tonight. We're going to celebrate."

"Those are orders I'll be happy to follow, captain," Roy chirps back, motioning to the crew to drop the plank.

"What would you like to get first, love," Jason questions, tilting his head towards you.

"Books. Clothes that are easier to move in. A cloak. Hair pins," You list off, eager to get off the ship after so many days at sea.

"Practical," Jason mumbles, nodding to his crew as he guides you to shore, "I offer to buy you the world and you desire leathers."

"I can't wear silks, lace and ribbons around your ship," You protest, eyes darting excitedly around the docks.

"Perhaps not, love, but you can wear them in our bed," Jason answers, his hand leaving yours so he can grab your waist, pulling you to his side as he walks.

You go to swat lightly at him, to tease him for being vulgar, but you falter when you look up at him. His face is set, eyes trailing over the crowd of rugged sailors on the dock. He looks hard. Threatening. Like the pirate lord he is. "I- yes. Maybe I will," You stumble out instead, unable to get the thought out of your head that you don't quite match him now. That you look wrong by his side.

"Are you alright, love?" Jason asks, and when you look up at him, his eyes are on you, softer. Something you recognize.

"Yes, just overwhelmed, I suppose," it's only half of a lie.

"We'll stop at one of the tailors I know first. She's dressed my crew more times than I can count," he says, reassuring, "if it gets too much, we'll go rest at the tavern."

"We're not staying on the ship?" You question, curious.

"Mm. Not tonight, love. I'd like to have you in a bed that isn't rocking," Jason drawls, shooting you a sly grin.

"You're insatiable," You breathe out, eyes darting to see if anyone's heard.

"Only for you, darling," he replies cheekily, arm steady around your waist as he guides you towards the shop.

You follow him, there's nothing else you could dream of doing in the moment. But the whispers of the crowd plague your every step. And the question that's haunted you every day since he stole you from that ball resurfaces, 'should you be at his side?'

Part Three | More Headcannons

[forusomimiya]

@coyloves ship & prompt: “Look how messy you are” w/ Osamu Miya ˚₊˚✧🍙✧˖°🍂

"I've been thinking about bending you over this table and just having my way with you" His knuckles caressed your chin before he gripped your jaw and made your head tilt to the opposite side of his face, to have easier access to your neck and kiss it. He smiled when he felt you straighten up, product of shivering. "You like the idea?" you thought you nodded, but it was so subtle your movement that it was enough for Osamu to understand that when you were speechless, it was because you found his proposal more than decent.

It wasn't the first time you had sex in the store. The routine would end up being the same as all the other times before: Osamu wooing you until he had you right where he wanted you, clumsy hands caressing each other's body, quick and warm kisses, and discretion in moaning so he could pay attention to the door bell in case Kita came carrying bags of rice. The last time was fun, despite the fact that you almost got caught red-handed.

"We should be quick."

"Yeah" Osamu said in a sarcastic tone. "I can see you're in a hurry" He pointed his gaze at the wetness in your panties, licking his lips, holding back from touching you still. "Look how messy you are".

"Samu! are you even listening to me?"

"I'm trying to pay attention, but you're just too sexy. Not gonna lie."

"Then, tell me what you want me to do" His grayish eyes bore into yours, able to read what they expressed.

Then Osamu lifted you up and sat you on the cold marble table of the warehouse, taking a quick glance at your body, stunned by the beauty of your curves, savoring them in his mind, decanting and amusing himself with his favorite parts.

"Let me hear your beautiful moans a second time today, darling" His thumbs played with the inside of your thighs, spreading them open, allowing a glimpse beneath them of your chubby pussy. "Hah… shit" He exhaled excitedly. His hips rocked forward instinctively, needing to have you lying there on your back for him, legs spread wide.

The throbbing in his chest began to ache as you lay back on the table and circled his hips drawing him to you, pulling your shirt up and exposing your large breasts squeezed into your bra.

"You're going to fuck me?"

"Fuck… Of course I do" In a quick set of hands, Osamu unclasped your bra as he worked his way under your boxers, reaching for his cock and pumping it a couple of times while his mouth was distracted with your breasts. He didn't skimp on making as much noise as possible as he savored and kneaded them at the same time, sucking your nipples and pinching them on his lips before releasing them. "They are so perfect… just mine" He kneaded relentlessly, and when he noticed that his cock was about to burst through his underwear, he released it as best he could, —caused by nervousness and quickness by the impatience of being inside you—, and pushing aside your panties, he entered you ever so slowly without losing sight of the expression on your face as he filled you.

"Atta girl, fucking your boss in his own warehouse, huh?"

He settled into a steady rhythm, and cursed himself for not having taken you earlier at that table. The movements of your body in response to his thrusts were something Osamu had yet to deal with. The bouncing of your tits followed by pithy gasps flooded his mind so quickly and directly, that in order to speed up the command his brain sent to his cock, he had to take possession of your hips and lighten the pace. His mind clouded as your insides tightened and his ears filled with his cursed name, thus ignoring —though not willingly—, your warning you were cumming. Osamu forgot the discretion agreed upon at the beginning and made sure to fuck you in the roughest way, letting anyone planning to enter the store know that he was busy to attend to any customers or receive any packages.

Maybe that day, the "closed" sign would remain hanging on the door for another hour.

[moonstruckme]

Hey! I know you wanted more requests for people besides the marauders so you can do this for anyone you like but maybe reader who is just soooo in love with them that anytime they do something nice for her she starts crying? Like happy tears because she's just so in love and she doesn't know how to express that. If you don't want to that's fine!

Hi, thank you! I decided to go with Sirius anyway because I felt like he'd be the most fun. (This is gonna be me btw, the first time I experience romantic love there's no way I'm gonna be able to handle it)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to show off my tattoos on the first day?”

“Mm, maybe,” you muse, looking longingly at the way Sirius’ inked-up forearms pair with his black dress shirt. “I feel like after the interview it won’t matter, but today you probably want to present your straightest-laced self.” 

“Gross,” he grunts, but starts rolling down his sleeves. 

It’s a rare sight, Sirius up before noon, but his job interview is scheduled for ten and he doesn’t feel in a position to negotiate. The frail morning light bounces off the full length mirror he’s standing in front of and illuminates the room as he purses his lips and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You’re lying on the bed watching him get ready, trying your very best not to look enthralled and wanton (it is a constant effort). 

“My most gorgeous, radiant angel, could I ask you for a favor?” 

You grin, warmth flooding your chest. “You don’t have to butter me up. What is it?” 

“Grab the bigger version of this shirt? I think I may want a baggier tuck.” 

You hum and get up, padding into the closet. Sirius’ clothes are all strewn over the floor and dresser, but miraculously the shirt you’re looking for is on a hanger. As you reach for it, you nearly trip over a small box on the floor. It looks like the shell of something Sirius was sent in the mail, plain cardboard with the shipping label torn off. You bring it back out with you. 

“Thanks, lovely,” Sirius says as he takes the hanger from you. 

“No problem,” you reply. “Want me to recycle this for you?” 

He turns to look, blinks, then looks harder. “No. Where’d you find that?” 

“On the floor.” 

“Must have fallen off its shelf.” He discards the smaller shirt on the bed and starts doing up the buttons of this new one, smirking when your eyes track the deft movements of his fingers. “Don’t throw it out, it’s got important stuff in it.” 

You weigh the box in your hand. “It feels empty.” 

“It’s got important, lightweight stuff in it.” 

You eye the barely-open flap of the box, intrigued. “Can I look inside?” 

You think you catch a flicker of hesitation across Sirius’ features, but it’s quickly schooled into insouciance. A vine of nervousness winds around your gut. “Sure,” he says, “go ahead.” 

You look at him a bit longer before slowly peeling back the cardboard flap. Inside is a mishmash of things. Paper, mostly, but you recognize one item immediately. It’s a flimsy, neon orange paper wristband, a venue’s name stamped haphazardly onto one side. At the first concert you’d gone to together, Sirius had griped endlessly about how the orange contrasted with his outfit horribly and brought out all the ugliest hues of his skin (there aren’t any, but you were too timid to tell him that at the time). He’d seemed desperate to be rid of it. But here it is, carefully clipped off instead of torn and preserved like something special. Something warm and weighty blooms in your chest. 

You take out one of the pieces of paper, unfolding it. It’s your handwriting, thoughtless scribbling you’d left for him to find on the fridge one day after you’d left for work. Have a great day, love you. 

Another is a bar napkin, containing a whole back-and-forth exchange between you and Sirius from the first time you’d met his friends. You’d kept passing it to him under the table, asking Do they like me? Are they just being nice? Is Remus always so frowny? and he’d passed it back saying Yes. Yes, they love you. James is this nice to everyone, but I can tell he likes you. Remus is being a sourpuss because he hasn’t eaten yet. You’re perfect. 

By the time you come upon a polaroid you’d forgotten he’d taken of you in his kitchen, you’re pressing your lips together to keep them from wobbling and your entire being feels warmed by incandescent, aching fondness. Your heart feels so big you can’t breathe around it. You’re not sure you have room for this much love, but you’ll happily carry it around like a weight in your chest for the rest of your life. 

You’re all too aware that Sirius is watching you now, so you try to keep it together for his sake, but when you blink a tear slides down the side of your nose. 

“Hey,” he chides lightly, amusement inlaid with a bit of panic. “Don’t.” 

You sniffle, then laugh wetly. “Can I hug you?” 

Normally he might make a joke (Not if you’re going to get snot all over my interview shirt) but something in your expression must sway him, because Sirius’ eyes go soft. “Yeah, baby. Of course.” 

He doesn’t make you get up, crossing the distance to the bed and wrapping you up in his arms. You let out a little sob at the contact. 

“I’m gonna clean off your shirt once we’re done,” you promise, gripping his shoulders. 

“Okay.” He sounds amused. 

“I just—I didn’t know you kept this stuff.” 

“It’s cheesy.” 

“It’s not,” you insist, hugging him tighter. It makes you happy beyond words, to know you’re bringing this out in him. To see, with your own eyes, how much he loves you back. You can check in with yourself at any time and know you’re happy in your relationship with Sirius, but you never could have imagined how spectacular it would feel to know that you make him this happy in return. “It’s special, Sirius. You’re special.” 

“James’ mum used to tell me the same thing.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You smack his arm, pulling back with a huff. You’re smiling, though, and he sees, taking your wet, blotchy face between his palms and grinning at you. Honestly, if he weren’t Sirius Black, he’d be such a dork. 

“I love you,” he says, a significance in his tone that contradicts the playfulness in his expression. “Do I let you forget it?” 

“No,” you tell him. “You don’t, it’s just…I just really love you too, you know?” 

His smile spreads, flashing canines the second before he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s firm and spirited, and Sirius holds you there until you’re laughing into his mouth. 

“I know,” he says, pecking you once more on the lips before letting you go with a swipe of his thumbs across your cheeks. “Alright, gorgeous, clean me up, would you? I’ve got other people to go impress.”

[taigarrryen]

In the hallway of Sheriff-2, about twenty minutes after the landing, Skizz is shakily making his way from his cabin back to the main deck, bag on each shoulder. He looks like he was fighting for his life just minutes ago, tired and pale. He really doesn't like having to deal with zero-gravity.

Norman, on the other hand, looks completely unbothered by the mayhem they've been through for the past hour.

From the command room, Jimmy's guiltily smiling face pokes out into the corridor.

JIMMY: There he isss! Look at that confident walk! What a champ. And all packed up already?

SKIZZ: Dude, at this point I'm ready to make a run for it. I swear, if I'll not see land in the next ten minutes...

JIMMY: Alright, alright! Geez. C'mon then, they're already waiting for us anyway. And their stuff. Mainly their stuff.

SKIZZ: Well, hey. I don't know about you, but I'd consider myself anticipated.

JIMMY (looking somewhat pained) : I'd consider you lucky you've never dealt with guys named Grian or Docm not getting their equipment.

Jimmy dissapears in the command room, pushes some buttons, blurts something into his mic and quickly reappears in the hallway.

They go to the main hatch, occasionally throwing one-liners at eachother, and on the way there, from the passing narrow portholes, Skizz sees Minecrea upclose for the first time. Huge, seemingly endless landing pad, pale-green skies and hills, hills, hills with far away mountains... He stops for a moment, mesmerized. There, in the flat field of dark concrete, he notices several unloader bots, parked ELYTRa and a human figure approaching their ship.

Moments later, Jimmy opens a hatch to the entrance compartment. Door unlocks and locks again with a low thump. Entrance compartment fills with greetings. Skizz walks in and smiles.

Smiling back at him is clean-shaved Impulse in an oxygen-filter mask.

IMPULSE: Welcome to Minecrea, man!

Skizz gives him a bear-hug.

SKIZZ: It's so good to see you!

IMPULSE: Yeah, I know! It's been a minute, hasn't it? How was your flight?

SKIZZ: Pfft, fantastic. Easy. When's the next one?

JIMMY: Nah, he did good for the first time!

IMPULSE (with a smirk) : Really? Jimmy, did-

Communicator on Impulse's belt makes a beeping sound.

[???]: Impulse, I'm sorry, but we really need you back here for a moment. It's blinking again...

Impulse shoots a slightly irritated look at it and sighs.

IMPULSE (to communicator) : Got it, we're on our way. Tell X I've turned on unloaders.

IMPULSE: Argh, sorry. You guys arrived in a very... Well, we are kind of in the middle of something here. There's this comet flying by very soon, and all of our scientists are going crazy about it. We're helping them out as best as we can, but... Yeah, a bit of a hassle, anyway.

JIMMY: Oh, that comet? I nearly forgot! Now, excuse me, gentlemen, I was promised a first-class view on this thing three months ago, so let's move.

IMPULSE: Where, at Tango's?

JIMMY: Yes, sir! But I'll come say hi to Grian and Scar anyway.

Impulse reaches and grabs one of Skizz's bags from him. A couple of minutes later, all three of them, equipped with oxygen-filter masks, are making their way to Impulse's ELYTRa, chatting as they go. The concrete under their feet is still warm after contact with nozzles of spacecraft.

Part 1 | AU Intro post

Audio for this post (in a form of a stinky youtube link because tumblr hates fun. Please check it out for full expirience)

[thefreakandthehair]

a little fluff for @starrystevie's birthday! hope it's the absolute best day! ✨

Eddie misses Steve.

It's equal parts cute, and maybe a little pitiful because it's only three days in Chicago for his friend's Bachelor Party, but it's already been two days and he misses Steve. Bandit digs his claws into Eddie's thigh as he makes biscuits and begs for pets, curling up comfortably next to Eddie's lap and leaving Steve's side of the couch overwhelmingly cold and empty.

"I know, kid. I know," Eddie coos, scratching their cat behind the left ear as he purrs.

He's glad that Steve had been able to get the time off from work to go, and he's glad that Steve's made friends on his recreational basketball league, and he's not jealous. At all. Not even a little bit.

... Okay, maybe he is a little bit jealous that Brandon gets to see him sweaty and gross in the June heat, running around doing whatever jock-activity they've planned in the backyard of their rented house all weekend, but who can blame him? Steve never gives him a reason to feel insecure so he knows this isn't about Steve. It's not rooted in anything even remotely related to him or their relationship— it's all about Eddie and the nasty voice in the back of his head that pulls out a bullhorn and screams not good enough on a loop.

Condensation from the beer in his free hand drips down his wrist as he rests his elbow on the arm of the couch. It's not the first time he's felt this way, and Steve himself has admitted to feeling the same way from time to time, so he knows that it'll pass. He just needs to focus on something else: DND campaign planning, sketching, writing, cracking out the ol' guitar. He could rewatch Howard the Duck for the hundredth time, or maybe even Labyrinth—

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Eddie's phone buzzes on the coffee table and he fully expects it to be Gareth or Jeff, or maybe Robin. They have plans later that night, both of them missing Steve and all. What he doesn't expect is a series of text messages and 19 photos from Steve.

How funny. It's been five years since they'd become EddieandSteve but seeing Steve's name and smiling photo on his phone sets his little hummingbird heart aflutter even still.

steve 👑: it's so goddamn hot here steve 👑: we're playing cornhole now and just threw a football around steve 👑: sweating all the beer and vodka out as a I go, that's healthy, right? don't worry, I'm drinking a shit ton of water.

Steve includes a selfie of himself, smiling closed-lipped with a baseball cap on backwards and the neck of his tee-shirt drenched in sweat. Eddie wants to lick him dry and that's a thought he'll never tell a living soul, probably not even Steve. No, no definitely not Steve. He'll never live that one down.

steve 👑: oh, and fishing was good! we made some bets on who could catch the most and then who could catch the biggest. I tied for first place for the biggest and I caught 17. brandon got 20 so he won that bet. I'm only letting it go because it's his bachelor party lmao

Eddie swipes to the next photo, one of Steve and Brandon holding their two biggest catches. Steve's sunglasses are sliding down his nose, no doubt from the sun warming his glistening skin, and he's smiling wide against the railing of a boat. As much as he misses him, Eddie can't help but mirror his smile. Call him lovesick or 'down bad', as Robin says, but seeing Steve happy makes him happy.

He continues swiping and reading the little blurb attached to each photo, some of which don't even include Steve but Eddie appreciates them all the same. They don't include Steve, but it feels a lot like Steve trying include Eddie in the weekend. The last picture is one of the entire group, all dozen or so guys lined up on the ship. Brandon stands in the center surrounded by the rest of the group with Steve shuffled in no meaningful spot but to Eddie, Steve is the center of every photo, every moment, everything.

Eddie starts to type a response when his phone dings again. This time, Steve sends a voice message and Eddie presses play so quickly, he nearly knocks poor Bandit off his lap.

Hey, takin' a break from cornhole. I won, by the way, had to make up for losing to Brandon in the fishing bet.

Steve laughs and Eddie's stomach flips. Robin's right. He's down very, very bad for this man.

But I just uh, I miss you, and I know maybe that's sorta lame but I do. The party's great and all, but I can't wait to get back home tomorrow. Tell the kid I said hi. I love you, Ed.

He replays it a few times and shamelessly taps Keep so it doesn't disappear before sending his own voice message.

It's no more lame than me sitting here with Bandit sharing how much we miss you, so you get a pass. I mean, you get a pass on everything all the time, but don't let that go to your pretty head, okay? I'm so fucking glad you're having fun and sowing your jocky oats, but selfishly, I can't wait for you to get home. I'll make it worth your while.

He huffs air through his nose and laughs low in his throat.

Oh, and Robin's coming by in a little bit so I'm gonna grab a bottle of wine. Don't be surprised if you get a FaceTime call later. I love you too, Stevie. So goddamn much.

Eddie sure does miss Steve, but it stings a little less knowing that Steve misses him, too.

[jolapeno]

isn't it

din djarin x f!reader

summary: at first, it had been you who had found a problem with each one he’d landed at. but, at some point between your clothing being around your ankles, you’re sure he’d begun to find problems with you leaving too.

warnings: mentions of smut/alludes to smut. bad star wars writing (probs, i'm new forgive me). no use of y/n. brief mention/allusion of hand necklace (thanks @rhoorl for the term), m!oral, p in v. loosely season one/two, although likely au. wordcount: 1.7k an: a huge massive thank you to @saradika for firstly convincing me i could do this, and then letting me show her this so i could be assured i didn't butcher him. ily so much 🤍

It’s beautiful.

The sound of wind rustling through it, how it waves in spots up and down the hill—moving side to side like a cosmic wave.

You thought you’d known green until now; thought you had known silver too, assumed you understood the way reflections worked and how quick movements could be. But that was before him.

Before you’d known the feel of his solid body lay on top of yours.

Then, you discovered a lot of things. Like how easy it was to spread your thighs on either side of him. For your fingers to seek in the dark—how they effortlessly hunt and find the parts he’ll expose to the night, but never to the light.

You even found you don’t hate the sound of your name when he says it. Somehow makes it longer, more impactful—like it has meaning when it comes from his mouth.

All of which were things you’d never known before you convinced him to bring you.

A promise, a barter—an exchange. Your hand clutching his blaster slugs, tears clutching to your lashes, flowing from your eyes—aware of what you look like, aware of the desperation you reek of.

Just take me to a different planet. A suitable one. Please.

At first, it had been you who had found a problem with each one he’d landed at.

A bogus reason, a ploy—all stemmed from a rising infatuation with the man under beskar. But, at some point between your cheek against the wall of his ship and your clothing being around your ankles, you’re sure he’d begun to find problems with you leaving too.

But, this place is a gift—it’s a slice of heaven.

It had been a stop gap you’d almost pleaded at him not to make, a pause in the travel plan. Now you’re not sure you want to leave it.

Because here is a sea of greens, a variety, a never-ending display of every shade between the letters which make up the name. Some are more saturated, some are deeper; some are tinged with yellows and others are blotted with dark spots that aim to discolour, but just make them more unique.

There’s no bounty here—no collection to be made.

Just a sight for your eyes and a moment for him. And, you think you could sit here for hours and bask in it. Take it in. Allow the air of this planet to fill your lungs and carve a space inside of you that no one will ever be able to rip from you.

Stroking your fingers through the ground, you feel how your tunic presses to your spine—how it’s held there by the perspiration on your spine. The fabric desperate to blow, to whip around your ribs and the sleeves to float around your arms.

You don’t care that it’s warm—don’t mind that you can feel your skin prickling under it.

Because you’re lost in it, the limitlessness of this place. How surreal it is that each blade points north to the sky, all upright, anchored pleasingly to the ground it came from.

Things had been beautiful earlier too, you remind yourself.

When you had been enveloped by darkness, not a slither of light—not that there’d be the space for it in the small cot. His hands, forever a staple, an anchor, to your hips, determined to pin you there.

He’s a man who chases after those who run, and you suppose it’s ingrained in him. This belief that everyone, at some point, will leave—will go. You think it’s why he holds you tightly when you’re nothing but bare; you suppose it’s why after, when he unsheathes himself, he always traces his thumb over the places his fingers have been, reminding your skin he’s kind, just in case you need another reminder not to leave.

“We should go.”

You hum because you should. Yet, your mind rationalises that the baby is still asleep and there are more minutes to sit in the silence, to not dwell—you suppose it’s why your hand reaches up, and brushes over the gloved fingers instead.

Action is easier than words when it comes to him.

A game the two of you play, one of silence and strategy—wondering who’d be the first to crack and speak more words than necessary. You suspect it’ll be you in time, likely soon enough.

It’s why you clutch, cling. Weaving and working until you’re holding his fingers at an odd angle, a silent plea there, a wishful hope spoken without using syllables or your lips and mouth.

“One more minute.”

“Okay,” you respond.

Watching the strands move again, swaying, dancing.

A content sigh rolls from you, and briefly—in the back of your mind, you wonder if you’re really awake. Whether this is some form of peace your brain has concocted after the sight of him stained in crimson; his palms flat in the air, modulator expelling he’s fine, it isn’t his, he’s okay, it’s okay—

For a while, you’d believed him, until you felt the bruises—all pulsing and colouring in shades you can’t imagine. An image being drawn, shaded in—forever in black and white, just outlines and half-concocted feelings you have on what lives under his armour.

He sighs next to you, it rattling out through his helmet.

And you wait to hear it, the confirmation he normally hands you. Deep, even through his modulator that this “isn’t it” either.

It’s been a routine ever since the two of you began this dalliance. Ever since you’d smuggled yourself aboard his ship with the promise that you’d never ask him for anything else.

Neither realising how false that would be.

You beg for a lot. For more, for his lips, his fingers and his cock. You wait for the darkness, count down to it—thrum with excitement for it when he steps down the ladder and his helmet is aimed in your direction.

Somehow, no words are said, just mutual acknowledgement, acceptance. Or that's what you call it. It being seemingly better than admitting that you crave it—him. That you care, that the sight of him smeared in ruby still haunts you—lingers there, bleeds into good days and casts shadows while you wait in the hull. The child in your arms, soothing him—telling yourself you’re giving him comfort, when you suppose you gain more from the small being than you could ever provide.

“This isn’t it,” he eventually says from above.

His helmet turned, and you imagine the eyes that live under it. Question if they’re almond-shaped or hooded, whether they’re brown, green or blue. You also wonder if he looks at you with curiosity or want, whether it’s with a thousand thoughts running or none at all.

“No?”

“No. Not this one.”

That’s when you close your eyes. Let your ears do the seeing.

Allow your other senses to kick in, to swallow the lack of sight and make do. You end up lingering on the gloved hand in yours—the one which sometimes slides around your neck, lightly pinches either side as you moan at the feel of him. The same hand which slides down your spine to aid your motion, or lingers there when the terrain isn't trouble-free.

It's the remembering which makes you let go of it, of him.

Quickly managing to pretend your hand doesn’t feel cold when you do. Stuff down the emptiness that begins to drown you in the space you put between you, as you stand up. A part of you admitting defeat, silently saying goodbye to tall stands of green and the rolling hills adorned with shades.

“Thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

It rumbles from you. All heavy, laced in its own metal—ready to slam into him and take him down.

It doesn’t. You’re not sure any words ever could.

You suppose it’s why he says nothing, silently following, not too far so that you’re alone, but not close enough that you can feel the ghost of his touch. The distance measured, all purposeful. It remains so until you’re back aboard, until the door closes behind you and you’re once again surrounded by metal.

A part of you knows you shouldn’t grow used to him, shouldn’t be waiting for him to flood your spine with his chest. But you do—you really fucking do.

It’s why you don’t move, don’t take a step closer to check on the baby or even unclench your hand from around the strands of green you’d stolen. The ones you’d ripped up from the ground, roots tickling your wrist—the rest remaining tucked closely between curled fingers and a sweaty palm.

Yours. The smallest piece of a place you’ll likely never see.

“You should sleep.”

It’s an order. Direct—practically thrown at you. Followed by a tight grip on your waist, fingers finding the same place they always do. His place. The one not needing a mark, but he leaves them all the same, ownership, a possession.

Sometimes in the throes of it, you hear him hiss mine, jus’ mine—your head nodding in the dark, because you are, you know you are, the same as you suspect he knows he’s yours. It’s another thing which festers behind your teeth, keeping lips clamped shut, knowing it requires no confirmation, no words in exchange for the momentary slip-up he lets escape. But then, you offer nothing when you trace mine against him with your tongue, when you muffle the words around his shaft as your mouth widens to take more of him.

It’s just pleasure, an easy-to-choose solution to another body being in proximity—a lie you tell yourself.

One you bargain with when he sleeps and you’re coated in the dark, convincing yourself until sleep carries you away and you wake to find yourself either alone or the very opposite.

Because it’s easier, simpler. Far better than admitting your heart does a double take when he returns, that you yearn for him in the days that pass when he leaves you on the ship.

It’s less complicated than asking him if you’ll ever be worthy of seeing him.

And you’re not the type of person to question. So you don’t.

And so the routine continues.

an: you don't know how long this has been burning in my head.

[halfvalid]

the blade daughter, pt. 3

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 7.3k this part

description: you finally soothe the uncertainty you've had surrounding going out and making a life of your own. somewhere inside, you find the bravery to finally tell zoro how you'd feel about him.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, kissing, confessions, a lil suggestive at the end

author’s note: ANDDDD SHE'S DONE!!! this was a wild 8 day long ride of writing, i'm a bit uncertain about the ending so please tell me what you thought of it!! hopefully you liked the fic, thank u so so much for reading.

The two of you emerged from the room a little while later. You’d finished cleaning up, and Zoro had kept you company as you cleaned both his swords and Hiru. The both of you walked together afterwards, wandering into the kitchen where Sanji had whipped up a meal. 

“We’re close to the Grand Line,” Nami reported, having apparently steered the ship far enough away from the other pirates to leave the helm alone. “Should reach the mountain by early morning.” She glanced over at you. “Kuraigana Island first, right?” 

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “The Grand Line is… screwed, though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Luffy said brightly. You just shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Zoro! Did you get everything cleaned up?” Zoro had changed into a fresh shirt, one not so bloodstained, and he gave a curt nod. “Good. Come and eat so we can get ready for tomorrow?” 

Sanji passed you a bowl, and you let out a thin breath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how and when this had become your norm—it’d been a week with the Straw Hats, now, and— 

You dropped your chopsticks in your hand. It’d been a week. “Fuck,” you said, the word dropping out from between your lips before you could stop them. Your entire body had gone rigid, pink flushing up your arms and face as something burned deep inside of you. 

Everyone’s heads had snapped up to look at you, matching concerned expressions on all of their faces. “I, um—” you said, scrambling up from your seat, words too big in your mouth. You opted not to finish them, dropping your sentence as you yanked your shell phone out of your jacket pocket. “Sorry, I—” 

You shook your head, hurrying out of the kitchen. The cold gust of the ocean breeze hit heavy on your face, and you let out a breath, the gust of air exhaling out of your chest in a rush. You heard footsteps behind you, but the panic hadn’t bled out of your veins entirely, and your hands shook as you tried to open your phone. 

Zoro’s hand was pressed over yours before you could snap the case open. You stared down at it, and your gaze lifted, the tremble of your hands subsiding as his warm grasp sunk deep into your skin. “What’s up?” he asked, low and steady. 

“I, um—” you swallowed hard, hitching breath soothing at his touch. “Um. It’s—I have to call my dad.” 

Zoro was serene, tone even and still. His words from before echoed around in your head, the proclamation of not having patience. It’d been untrue after all. “Did something happen?” 

“I’m supposed to have dinner with him,” you blurted. “Tonight. I’ve never missed it before. Because I’ve always been on the island, in our—I’ve never missed it before. I’ve been with you all for too long.” 

“I’m sure he’d understand,” Zoro said, though his hand didn’t fall from yours. He paused, lips parted as his eyes ran along your face. “Or is it something you’re upset about?” 

“I don’t have friends,” you whispered, words fierce. “I don’t go places. I stay at home. This life isn’t mine. It’s—” 

“I don’t think you should dictate what you do based on what your father does,” Zoro interrupted. His tone wasn’t harsh, exactly—but it was strong, tone firm, jaw set as he spoke. “So you miss one dinner. So you’re out and about for longer than a week. Does it matter?” 

Does it matter? Your heart pounded in your chest, and you took in a steady breath, trying to soothe the adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins even now. “I don’t… I’m not used to this,” you admitted, somehow managing to keep the contact of your eyes even as your brain screamed at you to look away. “I’m not used to being away from home.” 

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Zoro said. 

You hesitated. His hand moved carefully away from yours, nudging your fingers to open the phone. Your gaze dropped, staring at the little snail waiting for you inside, nestled in his little bed of velvet. You picked it up, tucking it into your ear as your shaking hands dialed Mihawk’s number. 

He answered on the first ring. “Hello there, darling,” he said, and you closed your eyes, a soft exhale leaving your lungs at his voice. “Are you calling me about dinner? I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise. Just finishing up over here.” 

“No, actually, um—” you cut yourself off, teeth coming down to halt your tongue. You opened your eyes, turning to glance tentatively over at Zoro. Does it matter? he had asked. Which… it did, right? You weren’t a part of the Straw Hats. You hadn’t joined their crew; you’d been insistent on that, pushing away any idea of a life out at sea in exchange for the comfort and familiarity of your home lifestyle. But you’d been making bonds with them despite, and helping them out with their ship, and fighting alongside them in battle. And you’d just patched up Zoro’s wounds a mere hour earlier. You didn’t make friends.

But you were making them. 

“I’m not going to dinner this week,” you said, the words all slurred as they spilled from your mouth. There was a pause of surprise on Mihawk’s line before he spoke again. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling Zoro’s gaze on you. 

“Finally departed from the nest, have you, darling?” Mihawk said. His voice was soft—tender, almost. “Very well, then. Any idea when you’ll be on the island next, or shall we keep it a suspended date?” 

“I should be home in a few days,” you said, voice hitching in your breath. “I’ll—I’ll call you! I don’t know what I’m going to do afterwards, but I’ll—I’m not going to just disappear.” 

“Well, of course,” Mihawk said simply. You tightened the squeeze of your eyes, trying to suppress the tingling prickles at your waterline. “I’m glad you’re making friends, dear.” 

You made a face, letting out a breathy scoff. A defense mechanism, really. “Don’t get mushy on me, old man.” 

“Me? Mushy?” There was a staticky scoff crackling over from Mihawk’s side of the line. It was such a simple conversation, so—why was it driving you to tears? “I could never, darling, do you even know me? I’ve got to fly, anyway—there’s some pesky pirates around here I’ve got to deal with.” 

“Bye, dad,” you said, the words choking up your throat, all raggedy at the edges, too big as you shoved them up and through your mouth. They grazed your tongue, but the points weren’t edges; they didn’t draw blood. “I—um.” 

The Dracules did not say I love you. Your father was doting, certainly, but he expressed his affection in far more unspoken ways. Presents from all four Blues. A weapon of the highest caliber quality when you were thirteen. Personal lessons in sword fighting. The murder of anyone who dared send an off look in your direction. 

“Me too, little hawk,” Mihawk said simply. “Now go have fun.” 

The den den mushi let out a soft little croak, signaling that Mihawk had hung up. You let your hand fall, the fingers holding the case of your phone going slack. Air punctured your lungs as you inhaled, the salty, crisp breeze loosening your muscles with every breath. 

“Are you alright?” Zoro asked. The words were gruff, awkward. Like he wasn’t used to saying them. You tightened your grip on your case, and then tugged the snail out of your ear, setting it carefully back where it belonged. You met Zoro’s gaze, heart thudding a bit faster as you saw flickers of concern in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I am.” 

The sun shone bright on your face, the weather of the Grand Line being more forgiving today as the ship sailed carefully through the ocean. Your route was still towards Kuraigana Island, although you were growing more split about it by the second. You’d just had a conversation with Mihawk a day or so ago about you not being at the house—and the fact that you’d have to choose whether to go home and potentially never see the Straw Hats again was a decision that gripped heavy at your heart. 

“Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” You glanced up to see Zoro at your side, forearms propping at the Going Merry’s railing as he gazed out at the ocean. You shrugged, eyes flickering down his side profile before falling back to your hands. 

“I don’t know,” you said. “Just thinking about what to do, I guess.” 

Zoro fixed you with a look. “You should try not doing that.” 

A startled laugh escaped your throat. “What? Thinking?” 

“It gets old,” Zoro said with a firm nod, brow slightly creased to shield his eyes from the sun. “I’d recommend dropping it for at least a few hours. You’re getting wrinkles.” One of his hands moved upwards to nudge against your forehead, and you ducked, another laugh gracing the edges of your lips. 

“Right,” you said, dubious. “How are your wounds?” 

“I’ve taken worse,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Though I guess I’ve still got that one, huh.” He grimaced, lips tugging back to bare his teeth into a scowl. It took him a while to speak again, and you turned your gaze back towards the ocean, waiting for the unspoken words to leave his lips. Minutes ticked by, but you just basked in the sun, trying to air your mind of any thoughts. Maybe Zoro had a point, there—sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to think at all. 

When Zoro finally spoke, his words were quiet; muttered under his breath. You had to strain to hear them, as the thin ocean breeze swallowed them up almost immediately. “I really thought I could beat him.” 

You huffed out a breath, unsure of what to say. Unsure if Zoro even wanted you to say anything. Your grip on the boat’s railing tightening, palm running across the soft wood. You found words falling out of your mouth anyway, though, although you yourself were surprised by them—“You can.” 

Zoro glanced up at you, surprised. “Maybe not now,” you hastened to say, not wanting to add to his clearly already-inflated ego. “But you’re good. You’re good enough to beat him, eventually. In a few years, given the proper time and training. I think…” You swallowed down the phlegm in your throat, alarmed by how wet your voice was starting to sound. You took in a breath, steadying your tone, making certain your voice wasn’t quite so thin or reedy. “I think that’s what scares me about you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said, all low and hushed. You just shrugged. 

“I don’t mind,” you answered. You felt his eyes on you, burning like a sun on fire, like the stars dotting his skin were crisping over your skin, charred and burnt and broken. Or maybe it wasn’t quite so destructive. Maybe it was a tender fire, crowning a pile of wood and cared for with iron stakes, embers glowing deep in the night to keep warmth fueling a pot of soup, or healing ragged hands after a long battle. 

“Let me get you a drink.”

Zoro disappeared. He returned with a flask, handing it over to you after unscrewing its cap. You knocked it back—it was rich but bland, all dry and earthy. Sake. You’d pegged him more as a beer guy. “Thanks.” 

Zoro’s gaze didn’t move from your figure. It was warm, you decided then. The swordsman was vicious at times, relentless in his fight, sinewy figure slashing cuts into flesh as he sparred with his enemies. But there was a distinction behind the hot, heavy iron of those glares at the look at which he placed upon you now. You couldn’t go as far to say his eyes were tender, or soft. But they were warm. Fire was a calamitous thing, but it had its blessings. 

“Let me take you out,” Zoro said suddenly. Your entire body froze, murmurs of warmth and tingling buzzes pricking up and down your spine. Something inside you lurched—no, it didn’t lurch, didn’t have the unpleasant sensation associated with it. It was softer, burning, guttural. Like a sharp knife cutting straight through your abdomen, sliding into your stomach, prying apart the bones like they were putty. Your chest squeezed inwards, heart pulsating with soft pangs of something. Hunger; desire, maybe. Yearning. 

“Why?” you asked. Zoro just shrugged, effortlessly casual in his movements. You saw a hitch in his throat, a flicker of something in his eyes, a strain in his jaw. Not so effortless after all. “Actually, more importantly���where?” 

“I’ll figure something out,” Zoro answered. “Is that a yes?” 

You turned, glancing up at him tentatively. “I’m not used to this sort of thing,” you said carefully. Zoro just shrugged. He still looked effortless, all guarded, but you could see the tremors and quivers underneath. 

“Neither am I.” 

You pursed your lips, raising your face to let the sun glow down onto your skin. “I have a rule, though,” you said, voice lifting up, more of a tease now. There was a ghost of a smile at the edge of your words, although your mouth wasn’t shaped in one. It was hesitant, careful not to scare you, really; creeping on you inch by inch. “I can’t go out with men who haven’t beaten me in combat.” 

Zoro snorted. “I have beaten you,” he said. “But if you want a rematch—” 

“Let’s not strain your injuries too much.” Zoro let out a scoff, but it was light-hearted, laced with amusement. You just shook your head, the dawning smile at the edges of your lips now, tugging them softly upwards. “I accept a loss when I get served one. You beat me, fair and square.”

“So I get to take you out now,” Zoro murmured, words careful, hovering in the air just barely out of his lips. He turned towards you, the sun outlining his face with a soft glow of gold and orange. He didn’t smile, but there was that soft, burning look again, lips slightly parted, taking in air. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.” 

“Tonight, then,” Zoro said. “Ten. Aftercastle.” 

You spent some time contemplating what to wear. You hadn’t brought a very expansive wardrobe along with you, only the essentials, so there wasn’t much to choose from—just some shirts and pants, no dresses or skirts in the bare bones of your luggage. You eventually picked out your favorite of the grouping, sliding your signature jacket on like usual, Hiru fastened securely in its scabbard at the back. 

Zoro was waiting at the afterdeck when you arrived, dressed in a dark wrap shirt and his usual green obi. The cloth was nicer, though: his pants were missing their usual wear and tear, and his shirt looked to be made of finer cotton. “Hi,” you said, slipping up next to him. The tangerine tree’s leaves brushed at your ear, and you glanced up at it. The fruit was ripe, round and as bright orange as Nami’s hair. 

“Hey,” Zoro replied. One of his forearms was propped against the afterdeck railing, and the other wrapped around the side. You put your hand beside his, pinky just inches away from his. “Do you know any constellations?” 

“Some,” you said, squinting up at the sky. You could point a few of them out, but not many—the sky was cloudy tonight, most of the stars blocked out by dull puffs of gray and blue. “You?” 

“No,” Zoro answered. “Was never really interested in that kind of thing.” He glanced over at you. You’d turned your attention on the trees, again, plucking one of the tangerines off the branches. The tree trembled, its leaves quivering with soft swaying motions. You dug your nails into the flesh, peeling it carefully. “Why’d you just stay home?” 

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “My dad used to not let me leave. He stayed with me until I was maybe twelve, for the most part. Then he started going out more, but he didn’t want me to come. Something about it being dangerous. He dropped the ban when I was sixteen, but…” you hesitated, tucking the shredded pieces of tangerine peels in your pocket. “I just kind of stuck with it, I guess.” 

“Weren’t you lonely?” 

“Kind of.” You broke the orange in half, moving on to pick at the pith with your fingernails. You gathered that up, too, little white lines piling up in the crease of your palm. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“He always wanted me to leave, I think,” you said. “To find my own life. I was always happy staying there with him, though. Or waiting for him.” 

“You wouldn’t be abandoning him by leaving,” Zoro said. 

“Logically, I know that.” You peeled a piece of orange off from a half, offering it to Zoro. He took it, carefully pushing it between his teeth. He broke skin, a burst of piquant citrus juice dripping on his lower lip. Your eyes lingered there a moment too long, but you looked away a second later, speaking again. “I think it’s just a habit, really. I worry.” 

“I mean, he’s a Warlord of the Sea. I think he can take care of himself.” 

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” you said with a sigh. You popped a slice of orange in your mouth, sucking at the tart juice. “I don’t want him to get lonely.” 

“That’s not really your responsibility,” Zoro answered. His pinky crept closer to your hand, from where you’d returned your grip on the railing. His touch was feather-light, a soft breath of skin against skin that was there and gone again within a moment. “Did you think any more about it?” 

“I didn’t,” you said. “Took a page out of your book.” 

“It’ll come to you eventually,” Zoro said. “Like that one Shanks guy said—actually, I don’t remember the quote. Ask Luffy about it in the morning. He’ll probably go on for a few hours.” 

You snorted. “You’re kind of bad at giving advice, Zoro.” The name came easily, and you stopped, feeling the syllables on your teeth. It was comforting. Natural. 

Zoro seemed a tad bit offended by that. “At least I’m trying,” he muttered, voice defensive but not hostile. “Onto lighter topics?” 

You popped another tangerine slice in your mouth. “Like what?” 

“Nothing light about my life, so I’ve got no idea.” You snorted, choking on the orange that’d made its way halfway down the passage of your throat. You coughed, shaky laughs escaping your lips as you cleared your airways. An amused smile had perched on Zoro’s face, eyes glimmering with warmth as he watched you.

“That was unnecessarily edgy,” you protested. You finished with your tangerine, letting the pith flutter out of your palm, some of the white floss sticking. You didn’t mind it. 

“Got a laugh out of you, didn’t it?” Zoro nudged you, the skin of his finger pressing fully against your pinky. This time, he didn’t move away, letting the warmth of his skin bleed into yours. 

“You never answered my question.” You raised your pinky, lifting it to brush against Zoro’s knuckle. Carefully, you slipped it into the gap of his interdigit, looping your fingers together so they were intertwined. Zoro exhaled shakily—you glimpsed his other arm moving away from the railing, lowering to his side. “Why you wanted me out here, I mean.” 

Zoro pulled up a flask, unscrewing the cap with one hand. He didn’t drink, though, just held the bottle suspended in his hand. He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the soft rush of water from below and the tranquil rocking of the boat fill the silence. For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. To your surprise, though, he raised the flask to his lips, taking a short sip before letting his hand fall again. “You feel different.” 

“Care to be a little less vague?” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Zoro said carefully. His guard was up, that much was sure. You didn’t exactly blame him. “Things have changed since I joined Luffy. Sometimes I can’t describe it.” 

“The crew,” you said. “It makes sense.” 

“It does,” Zoro agreed. There was something magnetic about it, about him—something that drew you in. But you weren’t afraid of it, really. The Straw Hats weren’t scary. Their bared teeth weren’t fangs; their canines remained unsharpened at their maw. Their lure was more peaceful than that. “We like you. You fit in.” He paused, mouth slightly ajar, a tremor of something on his lower lip. “I like you.” 

Your lungs were empty, devoid of air. Something in your chest clawed at you, trying to climb up your throat, compressing your organs. Zoro’s touch burned into you, interlocked fingers searching an imprint in your skin. You were certain you’d feel it for hours; days; months; years after. “I think I like you too,” you said. 

“Well, you like my earrings,” Zoro said easily. “That’s a start.” 

You turned towards him, at his open stance, tucking yourself in the space between his figure at the side of the ship. The motion forced Zoro to raise your hands away from the railing, but he slid with the action easily, fingers fully interlacing with yours. His other arm remained propped along the ship, flask in his fingers, the skin of his forearm brushing against your side. Your free hand raised up to skim along his earrings, dull clinks of the metal sounding out at the emotion. “I do like your earrings.” 

“Enough to let me kiss you?” 

You tugged gently at Zoro’s earlobe, angling your face up to meet his. “Yeah.” 

Zoro kissed you square on the mouth, mouth full and open, hand slipping around your back. The edge of his sake flask dug into your spine, but it wasn’t a sharp pain, and you didn’t mind it. Your fingers tightened against Zoro’s, chasing his lips with yours, letting him swallow you whole. He was patient with it, smooth and languid; tongue licking into the crevices of your mouth, firm as he mouthed kisses at the lines of your lips. 

You breathed in from his lungs, chest getting tight as he sucked the air clean out of you. Still, you were addicted, utterly devoted as his fingers nudged against your hand and his tongue skimmed along your mouth. He was a good kisser, effortless and smooth, nearly elegant with his motions. He tasted like sake; earthy, woodsy, reminiscent of some sort of mushroom, maybe. It suited him well. 

You let out a little whimper as Zoro’s tongue pressed deep to your throat, and he swallowed it up, flicking lazily along the roof of your mouth. You were getting short of breath, though, so you placed a gentle litany of faint kisses along his mouth before tilting your head back and letting the night air puncture your lungs. Zoro’s pupils had gone wide, deep black swallowing the walnut of his irises. His hand pulsed against yours, steady as ever, but he didn’t speak.

“I like more than your jewelry,” you said, staring down at where your fingers tangled with his. They looked like two pieces of a puzzle, extremities manipulated to slot along each other, palms molded together. “I like the way you move, and the way you fight. I like your face.” You hesitated, playing with Zoro’s fingertips to distract you from your words. 

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro said. 

“No, I think I do.” A ghost of a smile flickered up your mouth; a corpse, really, one that had forgotten it wasn’t really dead after all. “I like you, Roronoa Zoro.” 

Zoro’s fingers squeezed tighter against yours. There was no click, no noise of finality, no settlement of a suspended thread. You supposed it didn’t work like that. Life didn’t stop and end. You went on. You’d see Zoro in the morning, again, after you’d gone to sleep, and things would continue like normal. “Okay,” he said. “Late enough for you to go to bed, yet?” 

“I could go either way,” you answered. “Staying out here wouldn’t be so bad either.” 

“Fine by me,” Zoro said, not moving from where he stood. “So, Lady Dracule. Where to next?” 

“Wherever the breeze takes me,” you answered, but there was a decision settling down in your chest. One you weren’t so afraid to look at anymore. 

Kuraigana Island was just as you’d left it, sky dark as night even in the middle of the day, rotted ground crunching dust and rocks underneath your feet. The Going Merry had docked in one of the number of homemade boat berths Mihawk had made sometime in your youth. 

Usopp let out a low whistle as the Straw Hats stepped onto the island, head practically turning around in a 180 degree spin as he craned his neck to look around. “You live here?” 

“It’s quaint,” you said defensively. 

Nami gave you a sympathetic look. “It really isn’t.”

“Why is the sky black?” Luffy murmured in amazement, casting his gaze upwards to the overhang of rumbling clouds that existed perpetually over the island. “Have you never seen sun in your life?” 

You rolled your eyes, leading them through the gravelly path up to your house. Their reactions were, well, nothing short of the expected—Sanji’s eyebrows lifted, and Zoro let out a low whistle as he took in the sight. 

“It’s like Kaya’s house,” Usopp breathed. “But… bigger. And more spiky!” 

“It needs a paint job,” Nami deadpanned. You snorted. 

“I’ve been trying to get him to renovate for forever. Good luck.” You cleared your throat, suddenly awkward as the group walked closer and closer to the house. Your footsteps slowed, until you came to a full stop a few meters off the front door. The Straw Hats grouped around you, curious. “Just… don’t be weird, please. Nami, don’t steal anything unless it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. I only bother to polish the important stuff.” 

“Is that an open invitation to rob your house?” Nami asked with a snort.

“Do you have any food?” Luffy asked. 

“Probably not. My dad can’t cook for shit. Sanji can make something,” you said. “Our kitchen’s kinda nice.” 

“Working in a Warlord’s kitchen? I’d be honored,” Sanji said, with a little flourish of his hand. You rolled your eyes, but Luffy at least seemed satisfied. You glanced over at Zoro, who was the only one of the group who hadn’t said anything up to now—his lips were set into a thin line, but he met your gaze, and they flickered upwards just a quarter of an inch. The action was reassuring, almost, and you were soothed enough to start walking again.

The door flung open before you reached it, although the sudden motion didn’t startle you like it did to your compatriots. Dracule Mihawk stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual hat and jacket, Yoru heavy off his shoulders like usual. “I thought I heard footsteps,” your father trilled, voice wonderfully monotone as he bent in front of you, taking your hand to press a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. “Have you brought your friends along, darling?” 

“Clearly,” you said with a soft laugh. It was like all the tension evaporated from your body as soon as your father got near, and you found his hand, giving it a tight squeeze before turning to your friends. “Do you need introductions, or do you know them all already?” 

“I only remember the future pirate king and the swordsman,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Oh, and Yasopp’s child. It’s no matter, really. Well, come on in, you’re letting in the cold air.” 

Usopp stuttered something incomprehensible about his father, but Mihawk had already disappeared. You glanced over your shoulder at the rest of the Straw Hats. “He’s like that,” you said apologetically. “Just… come in.”

They followed you into the house, glancing around the lobby to take in the decor. You had to admit, a lot of it was rather gaudy, but it wasn’t like Mihawk cared much about what adorned the walls, and you had little resources to work with. Sanji made quick work moving to the kitchen after you made sure that Mihawk hadn’t prepared dinner. 

“So,” Nami said, the words mulling around in her mouth as she lounged by the kitchen island. “Nice place.” 

“It’s kinda scary-looking,” Luffy said honestly. “Interesting choice of decoration. I guess if you like it, though.” 

“Are you okay on your own for a moment?” you asked, getting up from your seat. “I’m going to go talk to my dad.” Luffy nodded, and the others all hummed their assent. Zoro caught your gaze—soft, curious. You just gave him a reassuring smile and slipped out of the room. 

Mihawk was waiting in the living room, long body stretched supine along the couch, booted feet thrown up on the arm. You narrowed your gaze at it. “Don’t put your feet on the furniture,” you grumbled. 

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, though he made no move to alter his position. “Did you end up getting that jacket for me?” 

“I did,” you said, glancing through the satchel that hung at your hip. You pulled it out, folding it with a solid shake and holding it up for Mihawk to see. His golden eyes flickered up and down the garment, taking in the material. Black cotton twill, with red paisley silk as the lining, delicate red lace at the hem and sleeves. The lapels were wide, buttons shiny and black, and it used red stitching rather than black, giving a sort of exoskeleton look to it. Mihawk sat up, pushing his hat back. 

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it.” 

You folded the jacket in half, slinging it across the back of the sofa before moving around to face Mihawk fully. “About the crew.” 

Mihawk glanced up to meet your eyes. “Yes?” 

“I…” you took in a breath, the inhale shaky in your lungs, bones and muscles rattling in your chest. “I think I’m going to stay with them for a little while, if you’re okay with it.” 

“The Straw Hat crew,” Mihawk said carefully, shaping the words on his mouth, tasting them on his tongue. “My daughter, part of the Straw Hat crew. Well, it’s not the most terrible-sounding thing to say, I suppose.” He paused. “No idea why you’d think I wouldn’t be okay with it, though, sweetheart. I’m not horrendous.” 

“Well, I figured—” you started, voice trailing out into a protesting whine. “You’d be against them? Garp sent you after them. One of them tried to kill you.” 

“Oh, you know I don’t hold grudges over such trifling matters,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Roronoa Zoro, right? He was watching you the entire time you entered. Wouldn’t take his eyes off you, darling.” There was a particular glint in his eyes, hunted, like he was searching for a quarry. “Something to tell me?” 

“No,” you said, too fast. Mihawk lifted both brows, and you broke almost easily. “Maybe. No. He’s—no.”

Mihawk clucked his tongue, sounding amused. “I suppose your rebel streak was bound to come out eventually. And from what you told me, he did beat you, so I can’t exactly complain.” You flushed, warmth heating up your skin, bringing a rosy blush to your cheeks. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed before I can fight him again, will you, little hawk? I’ve got my eye on that one.” 

“Okay, dad,” you muttered, but the tension of your shoulders had gone slack, and your muscles were loose. 

“Will you be leaving after dinner, or will you stay until the morning?” Mihawk asked, standing up to his full height. He stretched, sinewy limbs long and supple. He looked nearly odd without Yoru perched along his back. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Morning,” you answered. “I’ve missed you too, dad.” 

Mihawk smiled at you. “Go make sure our guests aren’t burning down the kitchen.” 

Dinner was less of an awkward affair than you’d expected. Usopp spoke the most through it, and Mihawk was fine to goad him on, occasionally switching topics to inquire about the rest of the crew. 

Sanji had made a fine meal; a grilled steak and onions with a side of asparagus to some kind of white sauce pasta you didn’t recognize. It felt… nice, really, having them all around you. Mihawk certainly knew how to socialize, and Luffy didn’t seem to mind his acerbic tendency. 

“And after I defeated all the enemy pirates,” Usopp was rambling on, “We hit a cannon straight into their mast, and it came crashing down! Oh, you should’ve seen it, man. It was me—well, Luffy—I guess he was the one that chucked the guy into the ship, or whatever. It wasn’t actually a cannon, but the details aren’t that important—”

“What about my little hawk?” Mihawk interrupted, and you had the vague sense to start whining. “I don’t suppose she just sat there throughout the whole fight.” 

“Oh, nah, she got some guys too I guess,” Usopp said, lazily waving an arm in the air. “She’s the one who stationed me at the cannon, she knew how great I was at it. She almost died to this one big dude—”

“I did not almost die!” you snapped. Usopp cackled out a hearty laugh. 

“No, she totally did. Thankfully for her, the great Captain Usopp came to her rescue—”

“Me,” Zoro muttered, words barely audible as he spoke them into his cup. You cracked a smile, and he glanced up, catching your eye. A tender look crossed his face. 

“Okay, yeah, it was Zoro who saved her,” Usopp admitted. “Cut the guy’s head straight off his body. But that’s just because I was busy fighting off the other pirates!” He motioned with his hands, mock-punching the air in front of him. 

Mihawk just raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now? I hope you thanked him properly for that, sweetheart.” 

You shot Mihawk a warning look. “Dad.” 

Mihawk didn’t let that faze him, raising his glass of wine to his lips. “You might want to take him around the island. There are some fairly romantic spots here, ones I brought your mother to while she was pregnant,” he said, mouth around the rim of his glass. You flushed, resisting the urge to lunge over the table at your father—clearly, he could see your vexation, mirth dancing in his eyes. 

Zoro didn’t say anything, eyes tilted downwards like there was something particularly interesting in his cup. Nami and Sanji were murmuring things to each other, and Sanji raised his voice to speak. 

“I knew there was something between the two of you! Come on, Lady Dracule, you could do so much better than the mosshead here—”  

“Shut it—” Zoro started. 

“You most certainly did not know, and you owe me fifteen hundred berry for that!” Nami said, offended. She elbowed Sanji firmly in the ribs, and he let out a low cough. Her head spun towards the head of the table, where Luffy was sitting across from your father. “Luffy, tell your cook to honor his bets.” 

“You bet on us?” you demanded, a squeak of embarrassment entering your voice as you protested. Nami gave you a look. 

“Please. You were obvious.” 

“Well,” Sanji jumped in, “Personally I thought you had better taste than—”

“I said shut it, waiter,” Zoro said, finally looking up to fix Sanji with a glare. He tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow raised, and you stifled a laugh. “And if I were you, I’d give Nami her money as soon as possible.” 

“This is so unfair,” Sanji muttered, but he fished a wallet out of his pocket and slapped a few bills onto the table. “There you are, madam. I hope you’re happy.” 

You groaned. “At the dinner table, really?” 

“Money waits for no one,” Nami said with a little wink, tucking her winnings carefully into a pocket of her skirt. 

“Sanji, did you make dessert?” Luffy wondered. Sanji rolled his eyes, but the sigh he let out was kind and good-natured. 

“Well, lucky for you, I did have the mind to bake some cookies while here.” He got up from his seat. You just gave him a dubious look; everyone had more or less finished with their food, though, so you got up, collecting the dishes to wash. 

You did chores, Nami hanging around you and lending her aid while the other Straw Hats got comfortable in guest rooms or whatever else. Zoro hadn’t budged from the dining room, apparently not interested in exploring the different parts of your house—you could just barely see him out of the kitchen doorway, nursing his drink as he stared thoughtfully into the distance. 

The familiar shape of your father’s jacket joined his side, and you narrowed your eyes, straining to hear. Mihawk had bent over the table, a pleasant smile on his face as he spoke. He didn’t bother to speak quietly, so everyone in the near vicinity heard his words— “If you hurt her, I won’t show the mercy I did the first time. My little hawk’s more important than finding a worthy opponent.”

“Dad!” you snapped, dropping the plate you were in the middle of washing. Mihawk didn’t even look in your direction, even as you stormed out of the kitchen to stand protestingly by the mouth. “Don’t—” 

“Oh, hush, dear,” Mihawk said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m off to bed, then. I’ve got business in the morning.” He came over to you to brush another kiss along your knuckles. “I’ll be gone before you wake up. Safe travels.” 

“Good night,” you said with a sigh. Mihawk left, then, disappearing around the bend of the corner to head off to his room. 

“...I still don’t really forgive him for almost killing Zoro,” Nami said warily. Zoro got up from his seat, moving over to where the two of you had gathered in the kitchen. “But your dad’s fine, I guess. Not terrible, as far as fathers go.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, then glanced apologetically towards Zoro. “I’m sorry about him.” 

“It’s fine,” Zoro said with a careless shrug. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your room.” You nodded, drying your hands on a nearby kitchen towel and prompting Zoro to follow you up the steps. The house was large, a castle, really; all dark and winding, with long corridors and tall ceilings. Your bedroom was grand, on the second floor, with a sweeping balcony and wide windows that bore a full view of the island’s perpetual darkness. 

“What’d you say?” Zoro asked, stepping into the room. He glanced around, but didn’t remark in his surroundings, turning instead to look over at you. 

“I told him I’d be joining the Straw Hat pirates,” you said. Zoro smiled at that, the edges of his lips curling up. 

“Good,” he said simply. You moved towards him, forcing him to back up until he reached the plush of your bed. He sat down, eyes not flickering away from yours, soft brown that held an entire universe in them. Planets lined his cheeks, spatters of galaxies that you thought you might revolve inside. “Living here for years alone doesn’t seem like the most interesting life.” 

“It was fine while it lasted,” you said, bending your head down, lips hovering over his. Zoro’s hand came up to press firmly along your waist. “I think I like the ship a bit better, though.” 

“Hm,” Zoro murmured, eyes on your mouth. He tugged you down, but the kiss he pressed against your lips was chaste, and he was leaning back again before you knew it. “I decided, by the way. On whether I wanted your dad to like me or not.” 

You arched a brow, thinking back to that night so long ago when you’d first heard the words on Zoro’s lips. I’m not sure if I want him to like me. “Well?” 

“I do,” Zoro said, nudging against your chest, chin bumping along your shoulder. “It makes sense, with you.” 

A comfortable silence filled the space. His thumb ran a tender circle along the skin of your torso. “I should probably pack,” you murmured. 

“Eh, you’ll have time for that later,” Zoro said dismissively. You laughed, the sound full, straight out your throat. 

“Do I, now?” Zoro’s lip quirked, eyes grazing over your figure. You prattled on as if you didn't even notice. “Did you have something else in mind? You realize after this we have all the time in the world to be together—”

“I told you I was impatient,” Zoro interrupted, and then he was tugging you down, pressing a full kiss to your mouth again. You parted your lips to argue, but Zoro just took that as an opportunity to side his tongue in, and, well—this wasn’t so bad, either. One of your hands came to tangle in his hair, nudging his head just the slightest bit upwards to allow you better access. Zoro’s thumb didn’t stop making lazy revolutions into your skin. “Doesn’t seem like you mind.” 

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his lips. You leaned forward, pushing him back onto the bed, before pausing to lean down and unfasten the straps of his shoes. 

“You’re a real charmer.” Zoro didn’t complain, though, seeming more than pleased when you returned to kiss him, allowing him to fall back onto your bed now that you’d shed him of his footwear. “Little hawk, huh?” 

You huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s cute,” Zoro said casually, one arm coming to prop behind his head. He drank you in properly, this time, from where you were on your knees on the mattress, unstrapping your own shoes before joining him up on the bed. “You are.”

You met his eyes, and a flicker of warmth crossed over your heart. For a soft, silent moment, you let it breathe. Let it exist there. Let the realization that you may one day love this man fill your soul. 

“Come here,” you said, climbing over to Zoro even as you spoke. “I’m going to kiss you again.” 

Zoro just grinned.  

The Going Merry was just as you’d left it, although Mihawk had provided you with any extra provisions the crew might’ve wanted for the rest of your journey. You’d packed up and brought along your stuff, too, managing to finally decorate your cabin in the ship more to your likeness. Everything was ready, and you stood at the edge of the aftercastle, Zoro to your side as you stared down at the island you’d called home for all the years of your life. 

But Kuraigana Island wasn’t your only home anymore, and neither was the hawk eyed man who resided in it whenever he was not busy doing something else. Mihawk had left in the early morning, but the ghost of his presence still warmed you. This way, it was easier to let go, you thought. This way, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

“Casting off!” Luffy yelled, his voice puncturing the stillness of the island air from his usual spot on the goat at the ship’s bow. You turned away from the island, jacket lapping around your legs as the wind whipped against it. 

“Ready to go?” Zoro asked carefully. 

“Yeah,” you answered, turning away from the island. Zoro stood to your left, one hand perched on the hilt of his sword, the other relaxed at his side. His brows were creased, strong against the shimmer of the glinting sun just barely peeking through the darkness of the island. 

The fog washed his features in blue, all blurry around the edges, but you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful man you’d seen anyway. 

“I’m ready.”

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

taglist: @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ellisaworld @yeonieesss @sarcastic-sourwolf @rouzuchan @dashcrashbash @blossomedfloweroflove @ fangeekkk @winuvs @katiemrty @asexualimmortal @fayetheenthusiast @freedom-kitty @ren-ni @je4nc4tb0y @dwcode @albedosfiance @13-09-01 @dimplewonie @cellgore @ shabzy1644 @applepie972 @mayo0ma @smoochesfromlevi @ csmbrainrot @intoanothermind @junieloonie @yourlocalgoose @swthrxrry @lovefooi @dailybrekker @taeriffic @xxemmarldxx @alastorswife63 @butterfliesinthenightsky @mukeovernetflix @wonuskie @mysingularitybts @sorasolarium @chaitea-69 @wishyouwere-sober @mchlist @bibi-bieber-winchester @prowkarma @loveyluv7 @hhighkey @jesssssmaybankk @threadofdestiny @hinata7346 @thevampiricprincess @wreckmyimage @prettyinsatiable @fairygirl18 @idcalol @bangtannie7 @carav4l @kookie-doughs @bluesiebirdie @endeaz @q8852p @addisonwilkins1 @louweasleymalfoy @alelovesmitski @fnlyroe @swthxrry @jamieeboulos @scarletrosesposts @jesssssmaybankk @vonpeachy @sincerely-aaronette @tsubaki3192

author's note: i also wanted to pop in and say that i'm not opposed to writing more fics/oneshots of this character and in this universe (hereafter referred to as md!reader) with zoro <3 if you guys have any requests pop them in my box when my requests are open, plus i may write some on my own time too!

© halfvalid 2023

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - I'm Muddled, there is SO MUCH on, but also I have FEELS

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

July 2024 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 11 of 12 - Yak is such a demanding babygirl princess type. It’s kinda hilarious in a fierce boxer dude. I do adore the core brother friendship in this show. It’s so sweet. Also I guess Yak is out OUT now, on TV and everything. 

YES PLEASE GMMTV!!! This ship! Sail it!!!!

The Rebound (Weds Gaga) eps 4-6 of 12? - So it started out as a relatively simple sports romance: first love, separation, reunion. But then just went entirely off the rails: gay mafia orgies, kidnapping, druggie ex teammates with knives, I am Spartacus. All erratic Thai pulp mumbo-jumbo aside? MeenPing are doing great in these roles. Zen's hurt confusion, Ryu’s struggle with internalized homophobia that keeps hurting Zen as much as him. 

Am I wrong to ship FrankPing Just a little bit? I only wanna see them kiss. It’s not asking too much, is it? 

Not sure what’s going on with Gaga and their "ep 6 of 6" thing. Or why they bundle-aired them. Did they just get the rights for the first half? Where is the rest?  

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 5 of 12 - I always end my Saturday with these 2 simply because I love this pair. I also enjoy the show. It’s sweet and I giggle a lot. I like that they’re dressing (and letting) Lin be a bit femmey - with his pussycat bows, coco bag, and little heels. I’m not sure about the pet names but I’ll accept them if I must.

My Stand-In (iQIYI) ep 12 fin - I would like to watch an entire show about the older brother boss and his hot secretary. Bit of a bully romance? Please & thank you?

This was a good solid ending, less predictable than I expected, which I appreciat. I liked that they had a full conversation about forgiveness. But overall, I am left in a muddle.

The show itself? A summation? Oof, here we go...

Adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KinnPorsche. Stuntman Joe dies on the job and wakes up in the body of another Joe with an entirely different life. But Joe just starts repeating the mistakes of his previous self - love, work, play. I enjoyed the experience of watching this show, I looked forward to it every week. I thought everybody did a great job with it and in it, and I liked that is was something substantially *different* for Thai BL. But I’m not sure I'll rewatch it or if it's bingeable. It left me feeling more sanguine than happy. Is there, objectively, anything wrong with it? No. But am I in love with it? No. I think that rests on the central characters, Ming in particular. I never liked him or warmed to them as a couple. I spent most of this show just very very sorry for poor Joe. Thus I was never rooting for their romance. I would recommend it, if you enjoy your BL more cerebral, with complicated unlikable love interests, and a downtrodden sympathetic lead. Is it, perhaps, more JBL that ThBL? Am I biased because it's a Thai production and I had expectations? What magical carnage could Japan have done with this IP? I'm left with questions, but I'm ultimately glad I watched this.

All this means that this show should, by all my own standards, get at 9/ 10. But I'm giving it an 8/10. So there.

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 15 of 16 - It really is the antidote to Friend Zone. Like GMMTV just set out to make a nice little show about nice boys being very nice and kissing each other nicely. And it makes me very happy.

Century of Love (Weds Gaga) eps 1-2 of 10 - DaouOffroad are back, this time as fated mates in a quasi historical paranormal moment. Very much Director Who Buys Me Dinner meets First Love Again, hopefully better than both. I love this pair and think they can handle the premise, it's whether the storytelling is up to the challenge.

So far? I like it a lot. I love it when Thailand gets all up in its own historical business and reincarnation and bullshit like that. I’ve always liked this pair too (it’s not their fault I didn’t enjoy most of their first series.) Daou’s wushu is pretty snazzy. We got a fun meet cute. (Erm... Remeet cute? Meet cute 2.0?) And this is a very PRETTY show. With more comedy than I was expecting.

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (Fri iQIYI) ep 2 of 8 - I like the friendships, but so far I’m not sold on the personalities of the main couple. Of course I love the pair, and I know they can handle it, but I hope the story justifies their chemistry.

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 6 of 12 - They are so damn teen dramatic and over-the-top. To have really played into the impact of the counselor character's original casting, they should’ve had Krist play the role! (GET IT?) That’d be ridiculously ironic. Not that I object to GMMTVs #1 Daddy Papang. Never that. 

The Trainee (Sun YouTube) ep 2 of 12 - Ah ha, I figured it out. This reminds me of The Devil Wears Prada. I’m finding most of the rest of the interns too caricature and thus annoying. But I’m still liking this more than I expected. 

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - The bullying GL subplot is just bad. And I’m getting an overall squick from the fact that the two rich privileged characters are essentially taking advantage of the two lower class poor characters. Trash watch here.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - I’m coming around to Almond + Latte, but I’m not super sold on any of the other plot lines.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - It’s still good and it’s still sticking relatively closely to the mango. So I’m still enjoying it.

Takara's Treasure AKA Takara No Vidro (Japan Mon Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I just don’t really like the dynamic of the younger, poor, country kid desperately chasing the older hot boy. It’s a bit too desperate or something. It’d be different if Takara were a nicer person, but he doesn’t have much going for him but a pretty face.

It's airing but...

Meet You at the Blossom

In case you missed it

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ???) 10 eps - It's ended. Should I watch it? right now 1 vote for and 1 vote against.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution. I demand you tell me the moment you find it!

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT) - Got bumped to Aug 2. Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

July Releases to Come

7/24 I Saw You in My Dream (Thai Weds WeTV) - Dee Hup is behind this one so I have high hopes. Younger boy chronically teased his whole life by the older boy next door suddenly starts having horrific prophetic dreams about his bully and must save hime.

7/26 4 Minutes (Thai Netflix or iQIYI?) - Great is a university student from Faculty of Business and the son of a wealthy business owner. Out of the blue, he gains the supernatural power to see four minutes into the future.

7/29 Battle of the Writers (Thai ????) - trailer here, TutorYim return and while I adore them, I really hope this is better than Middleman's Love. Won't be hard. However: that premise! Ugh. Something something authors fighting - save me. Why don't writers understand that nothing is more boring than writers?

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Such a Best Boy, not leaving his drink behind!

YES please.

Follow me here... these 2 in the Thai BL version of Tein Bromance X, which is to say: Mean assassin meets and falls HARD for snarky school teacher, they adopt a kid together. YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO WATCH IT.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[sabo-torao]

Small disclaimer before you head in: this whole post will be referencing the TCB translation. I know VIZ handled the exchange I'm discussing differently, but I couldn't find anyone who talked about the original version and as a result I don't really know who is closer to the original meaning. In any case, the "analysis" should still stand. Whether Dragon was commenting Sabo's firmness or admiring his resolution, Sabo's still putting on a mask, and that's the point I'm trying to break down. Enjoy!

This very specific interaction between Dragon and Sabo in chapter 1083 has always stuck out to me.

"My, you really are unshakeable."

which is an appropriate response to what Sabo said, of course. What kind of sensitive person reacts that way to the death of an innocent, right?

Even so, I can't help but compare the thing Sabo said to his actual, genuine reaction to King Kobra's death.

He's devastated.

Sabo brokenly screams Kobra's name, and his expression is one of full despair; he never thought about killing Kobra, let alone letting him die. On the contrary, he actively tried to save him.

Kobra told him to just let him go, that he was dead weight and he shouldn't be concerned about him, but Sabo straight up refused. In fact, Kobra's actions read way more as a sacrifice than an inevitable death; the king let himself die, knowing that this way Sabo could flee and reach Vivi and Luffy safely.

On the Lulusian ship, we see Sabo think about Kobra's last words to him and actively trying not to cry (and failing).

That's not an unshakable man. He's suffering, he's grieving. He realizes he failed his very own mission of saving the king and lets the meaning behind Kobra's actions and words sink in.

It really puts his former reaction into perspective.

Sabo's firmness, seriousness and coldness in front of Dragon and Ivankov are nothing but a façade. He acknowledges that what he's about to say might come off as harsh, and that, even if he does feel sorry for Kobra, the tragedy doesn't weigh him down thanks to the results it brought, but it all sounds like he's reassuring himself more than actually showing his indifference.

Hell, he even drinks his glass of wine right after having said that "he doesn't really care". How can anyone take his words seriously?

And we've been knowing Sabo is inclined to do this sort of thing since Dressrosa; he acted all cool and composed in front of Luffy but the second Koala called him on the Den Den Mushi he was weeping, having a hard time believing that his little brother didn't punch him or hate him for being alive all along. He even denied he was crying!

All because Sabo hates being seen as vulnerable, especially in front of the people he thinks he has to be strong for (Luffy, Dragon, etc). It's something I think goes back to how his parents treated him, since they scolded him for, y'know, having emotions and being a normal kid in need of love, but i digress.

I once saw someone describing Sabo as a very cold person in comparison to his brothers, even going as far as to say that Sabo doesn't care if people die if it means achieving the Revolutionary Army's goals (using this very interaction as proof), which couldn't be further away from the truth.

Bonney even says outright that it's weird seeing a "radical revolutionary" act so friendly when Sabo helps her out. Why would he do this if all he ever did was for "The Cause"?

Yes, Sabo is ruthless, rude, violent at times, and his friendly demeanor could be seen as a little more volatile than that of his brothers', but he's not heartless. He's not a "meanings to an end" guy, he proves it time and time and time again, and it's disheartening seeing people label him as such.

Sabo is kind. He may not be as warm as Ace and Luffy, but he is fundamentally a good person. A generous, kind, caring, sensitive person.

No matter how hard he tries to hide it.

[citruslullabies]

Catnap X introverted ! Fox smiling critter! Reader

Though unlike catnap they take it to another means of extreme, it's not by any means that they're shy it's just they go by any means to isolate themselves because they're not used to such an outgoing environment.

I guess since both of them are introverted and won't make any means of initiation, let's say that both of them find themselves going to the same spot they use to hide from people not knowing the other uses it time by time.

They get used to each other (involuntarily) because it's the only hiding spot that none of the other critters are aware of, so they have to tolerate each others presence and what if catnap gets interested in reader because of how enigmatic they are and maybe even get a lil crush on them :3

Awh, cute!

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic: a lil bit of both

Requested by: anonymous :3

Category: fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): Catnap x introverted!fox!reader

Word count: 440

Hiding From You, Only to Hide With You

Foxes were normally very outgoing, much like dogs or pet birds. But you were a bit different, being considered the ‘hidden smiling critter’ from your shyness. The others never saw you, maybe a glimpse but if they somehow remembered your name despite never seeing you and then try to talk to you, you'll run and hide.

You were laying down in your little hidey hole, it was small but big enough for at least three of you. It was cozy and warm, and isolated. It was your refuge from the world.. or, well was until you opened your eyes and saw a certain feline staring at you with confusion as he had one foot in as if he was going to get in with you. “What are you doing here? Uh..” he thought for a moment, trying to remember your name.

“I'm just hiding.” You mumbled, the words having lost all meaning through your barely parting lips while almost too quiet for him to hear. You noticed how he forgot your name and after some thought, you answered with the same amount of timidness if not more. “(Y/n)..”

He nodded and hummed, before getting in the hidey hole. “Well, scoot over.” He said before kneading the ground beneath him, purring as he loafed and prepared for a nap. You awkwardly stared at him and thought about if you should stay or if you should go, but ultimately decided to stay due to no other hiding spot being oblivious to the others.

And it just kept happening time and time again after that. After maybe the fifth repeat, you two finally started talking. With catnap initiating of course because he didn't like basically sleeping next to some person he didn't know. So he asked the basic questions and answered for himself, but he found it strange how shy you were.

On the seventh time, he was almost excited to see if you were there. Which you were. He crawled inside and happily snuggled up, purring and even nuzzling his head against the crook of your neck and head. His ears twitched and his tail gently swayed about. “Do you just like..

Live here?” He asked with curiosity, slightly joking but at the same time not.

You shook your head, speaking up softly. Your speech was still quiet but it felt like with every interaction it slowly grew louder. “Well, no.. but I like to lay here.. it's nice and cozy, and away from everybody..” you murmured, just slightly above a whisper but loud enough for him to hear. He thought about that and nodded with a smile.

“Well, not everybody.”

Thanks for requesting!

[bedoballoons]

I wanna request smthng simple,,,

Any character with user that naturally have a really hot body temperature plz (on my knees)

This is actually right up my alley, I always run warmer compared to everyone else! I love it, thank you so much for your request and I hope you enjoy <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂

{༻~To hawt~༺}

CW: Suggestive fluff! MDNI! Mentions of being in the shower together and multiple other scenarios! (Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour, Diluc: My dear, Albedo: My love,

(Includes: Lyney, Diluc, Albedo,and Wriothesley!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney:

You tossed and turned in bed, feeling like you were melting under the hot covers...when had the cold night air turn into muggy warmth. You lifted the blanket off of yourself, almost gasping at the relief the cooler air brought to your body, now if only Lyney could take the rest of the blankets so they weren't touching you at all, then you might just be able to-

"M...mmon amour?"

"Oh no did I wake you Lyney?"

"No, its just really cold out and I could feel the blankets moving. Why are you in uncovered? You're going to freeze to death. Here let me tuck you in."

"No no, that's okay! Ha, I was actually feeling warm!"

"..." He paused for a second, contemplating wether you'd actually meant your body temperature was running higher than a normal person's would...or if this was actually due to some suggestive dreams. The second answer left a bit of room for flirting, even if it was the middle of the night he'd never miss the opportunity. "Mon amour, if you are ever feeling overheated...you can always ask me for help~"

𑁍༄Diluc:

Diluc pulled back from the water the second it hit his skin, feeling like he'd just been hit with a bucket of ice water,...when he said he wanted to take a shower with you...he hadn't expected that to mean a cold one. "Ahem...could we turn up the heat of the water? I can't imagine what use we have for a cold shower at this moment in time."

"It's not cold though, this is my normal shower temperature. Actually it's a little warm for me." You smiled at him brightly, rubbing shampoo into your hair while he stared back at you in shock...how could water that felt like it had been shipped right from the dragon spine streams...be what you shower in everyday? "Diluc...?"

"...is it because you're to hot?"

Your eyes widened at his question, soap suds running down your soft skin as his face turned red, he hadn't meant it the way it sounded, but now of course he couldn't take it back, especially since the both of you were currently naked in front of eachother...trying to unsay something like that wasn't going to work in this situation.

"...."

"....."

"Just to hot to handle I guess."

"Yes, yes you are my dear."

𑁍༄Albedo:

"Here you go my love, please keep warm with it." Albedo draped his coat onto your shoulders, hoping to heat you up while the two of you watched the subtle snowfall of dragonspine. He wasn't sure how you hadn't started shivering already, usually humans would be freezing about now, but you actually didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

"Awe you don't have to. I'm actually not cold at all if you'd like to keep it." You snuggled up closer to him, emphasizing your body heat as your warm hand slid into his delicate cold one...you really didn't seem affected by the snow. How very interesting. "We've been together for awhile now and I've noticed you always tend to run warmer than others. Is there a reason behind this? Perhaps somewhere in your family lineup your relatives bonded with that of a pyro slime..."

"What in teyvat are you talking about? I highly doubt any of my relatives had relationships with pyro slimes, I just have a high body heat and being near you doesn't help." Your heart instantly picked up pace as your words slipped out before you could stop them...when had you gotten flirty?

"I suppose it would be a slimy situation either way then hm?"

"A-a-albedo!"

𑁍༄Wriothesley:

"How would you like your tea?" His grace set out a cup of sugar, excited to hear what kind of ways you liked to mix up the delicious drink. In truth this was a incredibly important question to him, after all it's his favourite beverage and he makes it often, knowing your order will tell him more about you and allows him to make it just the way you like from then on. He only hoped you wouldn't get tired of it soon after he started serving it to you..

"Hmm a couple spoonfuls of sugar and lots of ice!"

"...ice?" His ears perked up, attention fully trained on you...he simply couldn't imagine why someone would want to put ice into their hot tea. To cool it down? But wouldn't it loose it's flavour, leaving it more like a tea flavoured water instead?

"Mhm! Iced tea is so yummy and it makes it harder for my body to overheat!"

"...iced tea. Do you normally use ice as a means to cool yourself off?"

"...yes."

"Interesting, I'll have to remember that~"

"Remember that for what???"

"Nothing."

"Wrio??"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧