#why no one can find Laugh Tale

[howtotrainyouragents]

It is infuriating how absurdly simple the One Piece world design is, yet how it completely holds up to the entire story

[catocappuccino]

He's my son, actually. Don't you DARE talk bad about him! He did nothing wrong in his entire life 😌

[dante-mightdie]

Your au's for Ghost have me absolutely feral, specially now that I found the viking content. I'm a sucker for big cold man with a sweet angel for a wife 🥺

There's just so much angst potential, imagine the wife was this doe eyes lady that dreamt of love and read all the sweet fairy tales just to end up married to a brute that thing romance is dumb. Then she tries to make their relationship work in a more traditional sense but the attempts fail 🥺🥺🥺

It could be very angsty or a beauty and the beast type of situation where he tries his best for wifey.

beauty and the beast yes please and thank you or alternatively: lady and the tramp

c/w: fluff, mentions of smut, i’m bad at writing romance leave me alone i’m heartless

he’s always known you as his wife. from the second price dropped you in his lap like a stray kitten, mumbles of clan alliances and blah blah blah. you didn’t really have an opinion nor say about the whole situation. but you didn’t seem displeased with the arrangement your father made with price

it never really clicked in his brain that before you were his wife, you were once a little girl with a head full of dreams. hopes of growing up and finding a good man. one who will whisper sweet nothings in your ear at night, building a home and family with you, treat you like the darling thing that you are

and now here you are, the other half of this viscous soldier. a man who has never known a gentle touch in his life. his romantic experiences consist of going to the brothel and picking the first woman he sees to relieve the stress of battle. he never planned on taking a wife nor starting a family

you never complained. not once. even when he shut down your attempts at affection. you took it on the chin and moved on. perhaps you understood that you could definitely have it worse. simon is by no means a good man. but he certainly isn’t a cruel one either

he’s never laid a disrespectful hand on you. never allowed anyone to treat you as anything other than his wife. the same can’t be said for a lot of women put into these kinds of arrangements

he started to figure you out in bed one night. after being intimate together, he was sat up in bed, candlelight illuminating his sweaty chest as he pants to catch his breath. a flask of ale in his hand as he gulps it down

your form is splayed out in his lap, your legs tangled with those thick tree trunks he calls thighs. the covers are bunched up around you, barely concealing your naked bodies to anyone who might decide to intrude

it never makes him jump when he feels your nails dig into his back and claw down the muscle when he fucks you. or when your teeth bite down on his shoulder to cover your moans when he hikes up your skirt in the dark alley behind a tavern. but when your fingers gentle dance over the scars and tattoos littering his sweaty skin, he feels the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up

goosebumps prickle up and down his body when your lips graze over the large scar slashed across his burly chest, tongue flicking out ever so slightly to taste the sweat resting there,

"what're you doin'?" he grunts out, taking another sip of the ale. your eyes flick up to him, almost surprised that he's actually talking to you. you shrug your shoulders lightly, cheeks heating up slightly from his blunt acknowledgement of your affections

“appreciating what was gifted to me by the gods. your body is a blessing, husband…” you whisper so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. but he did

you considered him a gift. a blessing, even. from the gods themselves. simon almost wanted to laugh. another part wanted to tell you to stop, stop with these childish fantasies. but it soon made sense why you never gave up your attempts of coaxing approval from a man so afraid to love

somewhere, deep down inside of you. that little girl is pleading with you, begging you to make her dreams of finding true love come to life. telling you that you’re the only one who can do it. without you, she has no hope

perhaps it can’t hurt to indulge you. just this once.

[jyoongim]

Heyyy, it’s me again, the singer anon. Can I request an Alastor x Reader where she is sent by as a spy by Vox after our fav slithery boy failed? She’s really bubbly and friendly, but she eventually grows to care for everyone in the hotel but Vox owns her soul. She torn in between getting herself killed by him and not betraying anyone anymore, or continuing the job. She goes and confesses to Alastor, breaking down and thinking he’ll kill her, which she thinks would be best so she doesn’t have to betray anyone anymore. Just breaking down in tears telling him she doesn’t want to hurt anyone but Vox has her under a contract, begging him to kill her so she doesn’t have to. Just for Alastor to call her a good girl and ughhhh some possessive smut if you don’t mind? Sorry brain rots in my head and I’m in love with him, lol. Thank you! <3 also the three requests story set off the trigger in my head, loved it! Thanks again! <3!

This been in my inbox for weeks and i finally got a plot for it!

⚠️warning: 18+! Smut smut smut! Plot if you look hard enough!

—————————————————————————————

No one suspected a thing.

You were sent to the Hazbin Hotel after Sir Pentious miserable attempt.

Your orders were simple: ”Keep an eye out on that old fossil. I want to know why that fucker is sucking up the Lucifer’s daughter”

And you did just that…you were executing your mission flawlessly.

Until you began to care about those who stayed at the hotel.

Until you began to grow closer to the Radio Demon.

————————————————————————————

You had been staying at the hotel for a few months now and its been great!

Charlie was always finding new ways to help the residents build bonds and encouraging everyone to do their best.

At first, you were arrogant, playing along until you actually saw the the demons there were actually changing even if they didn’t admit it

But now, you thought of the princess as a friend, along with everyone else.

Especially Alastor.

Now that you’ve been around him, you’re not sure why Vox hate the demon so much.

Alastor was funny, kind (in his own twisted way), and truly looked after the hotel.

A soft smile curled on your lips as you thought about the demon, but the ringing of your phone interrupted such thoughts.

Vox.

You took a deep breath and answered “H-Hello?”

”Tonight’s your chance to take out that prick and after that come home” he demanded.

You blinked “what? B-but Vox…” you bit your lips “But it’s actually nice here. The hotel isn’t a scam…a-and everyone is a lot nicer than we thought ” Vox laughed “Oh baby please! Nice? You actually believe in that redemption crap? You think that they’ll let you stay if they knew why you truly were there? Hahaha! Oh my dumb little girl, how naive you are. ” 

You pouted, a frown on your face “I want to stay”

Vox growled through the phone “ah ah baby you don’t make demands remember?” 

Electrical shocks ran through your body from the collar you wore.

You gasped in pain “I OWN you. Did you forget that? You do whatever I say when I say it. Now I expect you home before morning or I will kill you.”

The phone call ended and you were in tears.

You didn’t want to go back. 

You liked being at the hotel and able to be yourself. 

You liked the friends you had made here.

You would do anything for them, even if you had to die to make your wrongs right.

————————————————————————

“Come in” the voice answered after you knocked on the door. You were sweating as you stood outside of Alastor’s door.

You had decided that if you were going to tell anyone why you were at the hotel, it would be Alastor.

You opened the door and walked into his radio studio.

”Hey Al” you said weakly as the demon spun around and smiled at you “Hello darlin! What do I owe the pleasure?”

You fiddled with your hands.

”I want to tell you why I came to the hotel”

Alastor quirked a eyebrow, smile widening as he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch.

”Do entertain me of your tale my dear”

You were in tears by the time you finished telling Alastor everything.

Of Vox and his plan.

The deal between you and Vox.

The reason you came to the hotel.

Everything.

”I-I’m sorry! So so sorry! I-I just didn’t know what to do!

Kill me! I deserve it! J-Just let me say my goodbyes first. I would rather you kill me than Vox! Please!” You cried, hands covering your face as you sobbed.

Alastor had been quiet for the entirety of your confession. He had half a mind to kill you when you told him of your deal with Vox.

The pesky television didn’t know when to mind his business.

His eyes focused on the collar around your neck.

 You were Vox’s and by contract, he wasn’t allowed to kill you.

And he wasn’t. No he had grown accustom to the pretty demon who seemed to light the hotel’s halls.

However…he could override Vox’s ownership of your soul.

You flinched when you felt a large hand pat the top of your head. You looked up through teary eyes ay Alastor, who just sported a soft smile.

”Now now my dear don’t you worry. I appreciate that you came to and confided in me. What a good girl you are.” His smile stretched as you sniffled, looking at him with glossy eyes.

”Y-Youre not g-gonna k-kill me?” You asked looking down.

He chuckled as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, claws finding their way under your chin to make you look at him

He rolled his eyes ”Oooh my dear of course not…” His fingers trailed down your neck, toying with your collar. “But I am in a bit of predicament”

You wiped at your eyes “how so?”

“Under normal circumstances, I would rip you to shreds and broadcast your screams for all of Hell to hear” his pupils turned to dials and his smiled turned wicked. You felt your heart stop a little.

He calmed down slightly “however I have another idea to break your deal with Vox” 

He smiled at you as you tilted your head in confusion.

”I know just the thing hehehe”

————————————————————————————

You whimpered as you tried to hold yourself up against the force of Alastor’s thrusts. “A-Al!” You whined as the demon tugged your hair to pull your body into his. A deep growl vibrated through you as Alastor sunk into your weeping heat, his cock hitting that soft spot inside you.

“Fuuuucckk!” You hissed, eyes rolling into your skull as your body buzzed with pleasure.

Alastor pulled your body til your back was flushed against his chest, his sharp teeth nipped at your skin before latching on and marking you. You winced as his tongue lapped at the blood, he purred as trailed his tongue up your neck.

”To think Vox had such a sweet cunt all to himself. Ooh darlin you’re wasted on him. But you’ll be a good girl for me wont you? You seem to love having a real cock fucking you” he chortled, giving you a harsh thrust. His hips grinded up into your ass, coaxing your cunt to take every inch over and over.

Your gummy walls tightened around him as you whined at his words. You could barely focus on what he was saying, not giving two shits either as he bullied your insides.

”I-I can be a good girl please please oh fuck! Aah! Aah!” You whined. Alastor’s large hands trailed up your body; kneading, pawing, and squeezing at your supple flesh. Pausing at your bouncing tits to tweak your hardened nipples, sending currents to your abandoned clit.

“I know you will baby” 

He nudges his head into yours, to gain your attention and capture your lips with his, swallowing your moans as one of his hands moves down to toy with your puffy clit.

Your body jerked as he rubbed tight circles on the bud; your cunt fluttering as slick dripped down your thighs.

”Ill make a deal with you darlin” he whispered against your lips, lidded eyes staring into yours, as you mewled, wanting his tongue back down your throat. 

“I keep this little mishap under wraps and in return you belong to me. Youre free to do whatever your heart but im no pushover m,a cherie.”

His thrusts sped up as he pinched your clit.

You keened, pushing your hips back into his, trying to follow the motion of his fingers, seeking to reach your orgasm.

”Do we have a deal?” He purred never breaking his pace.

Your collar let out blue sparks, Vox’s way of ‘reinforcing’ his control over you. You whimpered as the shocks edged you, but Alastor let out a deep growl as he wrapped his claws around the collar.

”Do we have a deal?” A snap of his hips pulled a moan from your throat.

”oh! Yes! Yes! F-fuuuc-cckk”

Static ran through your body causing you to jerk as your orgasm washed over you, your collar fizzled out as Alastor’s cock pounded your cunt, riding your orgasm out.

The wet SQUELCH! Of your cunt echoed as high pitched whines left your throat. 

“That’s a good girl. Cummin all over my cock. Feels better than that robot huh? Yeeesss fuck! Take my cum darlin take it”

Your eyes crossed as your mouth opened in a scream. Alastor crashed his lips on yours, tongue pushing through your lips and pulling you into a heated kiss as he pumped you full of his cum.

Alastor let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, cock coated in creamy essence and smiling as he watched your cunt clench around nothing and dripping cum.

In your dazed state, you faintly heard a snap and a cool sensation coated your neck.

Instead of the sapphire jeweled collar, a gold chained ruby hung from your neck.

Alastor hummed as he rubbed your tired body, smiling wickedly as he slotted back into your soppy heat. You moaned softly as he rolled his hips against you.

”now lets send that mediocre podcast a proper video”

[daycourtofficial]

I am ash from your fire

Summary: Eris retires after a long night to find his mate, the princess of the night court, in his chambers upset.

Author’s note: Rhys is a jackass in this one. Honestly this was supposed to be Eris comforting reader but idk how it flipped at some point and sometimes you just gotta go with where the story takes you 🤷🏼‍♀️ also I’m headcannoning that Eris reads anything and everything he can get his hands on

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

Eris feels his shoulders sag ever so slightly, allowing the formalities of his stature to soften slightly as he moves further into his private chambers.

The only place in the Forest House he can at least somewhat relax. The hues of brown coating the walls, the paintings of hounds and forests covering the walls have been a comfort since his youth.

It was one of the few places Beron never entered. The High Lord would never sully himself by entering into his children’s chambers. No, he’d have word sent to them so they can come to him.

Eris walks towards the bookshelves, long fingers softly gliding over the edges of the leather bindings. His personal library was extensive - books of maps, histories, biographies, all subjects expected of a first-born heir. But also books of poetry, fantasy, and intrigue.

Eris was always a voracious reader, that need for escapism a constant in his life. His hands move on their own accord, searching for something to lose himself in when his ears perk up at a noise in his bedchambers. Unsheathing a dagger from his hip, he moves towards the room, seeing a shadow of movement underneath the door.

He reaches the door, slowly moving his hand to the handle. Once it’s in his hand, he turns it quickly, throwing open the door and pouncing on top of the person in his chambers.

His dagger is held at their throat, determined to find out who sent the risk before disposing of them. A laugh bursts out from under him, his dagger so close to their throat it knicks their throat at their laughs.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

His grip on the dagger falters momentarily, the sweet sounds of his mate’s voice causing him to loosen his hold. He pulls the dagger back, sheathing it back into his pants.

He brushes the hair from your face, taking in your amused look, his other hand going to inspect the slight knick on your throat.

“My precious fox.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue, his senses on high alert at your unexpected presence. He can sense something is off with you, and his eyes roam your body for injury.

Coming up short of any injuries sans the knick he just gave you, he sits on his haunches, grabbing your hands, helping you to sit up. You sit on your legs, keeping a tight hold on Eris’s hands, playing with his fingers.

You pull off one of his rings, sliding it on and off your own fingers, the warm metal soothing your cold hands.

He watches you for a moment, watches your fingers play with the rings he wears every day. He’s never understood your fascination with them, a nervous habit perhaps. He watches as you move the gold ring onto your thumb before pulling you into his arms. The feel of you settles him, and he can finally breathe deeply for the first time in weeks.

He holds you, pressing his face into the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair. He pours what love and devotion he can down the bond, enjoying your presence before he can bring himself to ask why you’re here.

The two of you usually meet in his private cabin, miles and miles from the cruelties of the Forest House. He can’t recall if you’ve ever even been in his private chambers.

You pull back from him, shuffling around so you can sit in between his legs, back pressed to his chest. You know you have to tell him why you’re here, but you can’t look at him while you do it.

You’re not sure what you’ll find from him as you recount your tale.

You take in a breath, deciding to tell him what happened instead of letting him wait.

“Rhys found one of your letters,” you say, not able to look at him. “I was called away while I was reading one of them. It was foolish - I always hide them before leaving my room.”

Something warms in Eris’s chest at the thought of you, courts away from him, pouring over every word in the letters full of love you’d exchange between each other.

Much like he did every night.

“We got into a big fight, and he uh-“

Eris watches the tear slip out, sliding down your face.

“He told me I was no sister of his.”

Eris can’t help the snarl that comes from him, and you gingerly place a hand on his thigh, a motion he knows is grounding the both of you.

“What did his little lackeys have to say?” He spits out, unable to hide his contempt for them as he asks.

His dislike of Cassian and Azriel was no secret, but it took you a long time to coax out of him what about them he disliked.

“Truthfully, I found out how Illyrians treated females and it left a foul taste in my mouth,” he had told you once. It was all you could coax out of him, and perhaps that’s all there was to it.

At his core, Eris defined males by how they treated the females in their lives. Perhaps he assumed that Cassian and Azriel were the same as the other Illyrians and did not want to press further.

“They uh weren’t there,” you reply, “no one else was there. Perhaps he sent them all away so he could throw a fit.”

You laugh a little, thinking of just how red Rhysand’s face had gotten during your fight. You feel Eris’s head lay against your own, his fingers tangling into the strands of your hair.

“He was yelling, screaming about how I was defiling the family name by being with a Vanserra.” You sigh. “Then he began screeching about how you’re awful, you’re terrible, and ‘what about Mor’ and blah blah blah.”

“How’d you respond?” Eris asks, hands idly moving to hold onto yours in a soft grasp.

“I told him to ask Mor about what actually happened that day.”

He hums, allowing you to absentmindedly play with his fingers as you speak.

“He said that Mor would never lie to him. That she would never lie to any of us.” You blow out a breath, “then he said I had been cursed by the Mother to be mated to you.”

Eris knew the words were not your own, but the sound of them on your lips still stung deep in his chest.

“That’s when I told him to fuck off.”

Eris looks down at you as you peer back up at him, adoration, love, and a hint of sadness shines onto you through his gaze.

“We fought back and forth for a while after that. Then, after realizing I wasn’t giving up so easily, he gave me a choice.”

“My family name, my title, my claim to the throne, or you.”

Eris’s grip tightens. You two had spoken about what the worst outcomes would be if you were found out. Neither of you had ever expected Rhys to disown you.

Rhysand, who adored his little sister more than anything. Rhysand, who insisted you were an integral part of his life. Rhysand, who constantly ensured you were safe and happy.

He threw all that away the second he said you would never give up your tiara collection for Eris.

“Oh, my little fox.”

He peers down at you, your eyes wide as you peer up at him, your face upside down.

He knew he’d never get to love you wholly, unabashedly, publicly. He always knew something would come between you. He lets his gaze linger, memorizing the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks. His fingers move and, without his prompting, they start gliding across your face. They move as if he were studying it, preparing himself to have to recognize you in blindness.

To only see you in the darkest hour of the night, when his fingers can retrace these patterns, and pretend you’re next to him again.

He could, he thinks. He’d recognize you anywhere. His breath is shaky, knowing he will have to wait until you two are gone from this world to be together.

He would spend the entirety of his afterlife searching for you, in whatever form you took. If you were nothing more than stardust, a gentle whisper on the wind every Starfall, his flame would burn higher that day, reaching out for you one last time.

He resigns himself to these last few minutes with you, but he doesn’t feel the despair in his heart mirrored in your own.

You feel hopeful. You feel open.

He can’t ask, but you know he needs to hear it.

“I am no longer the Princess of the Night Court.”

Hot tears pour down his face, and he struggles to keep his mouth closed to keep from gasping at your decision. A tear falls onto your face beneath his, splashing across your cheek.

“I am officially without a name, without a home, and with no title,” your voice full of more determination than Eris could imagine, “I humbly ask if you could provide these things for me.”

A strangled sob breaks from him, and you twist in his arms to hold him. Surprise takes over your face, utter shock cascading through the bond before you can stop it.

Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, a master of masks and facades, always playing the sly courtier three steps ahead. Never in all the years have you known him have you ever seen him so emotional.

Eris looks to the ceiling as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. The heat from his hands was clawing at your back, but it didn’t burn.

You shushed him as he continued crying into your hair, the sight of him becoming undone such a shock to your system.

“I apologize, my love, deeply and truly.”

His hands stay on you, every inch of you needing to make that contact with him.

For so long, his life revolved around choices he was not privy to, choices that were not his. He was a pawn in an ever tiring game, one he was trying to make his way out of.

He presses you into him, unable to believe that someone, anyone, especially you, would choose him.

You chose him. You chose him the day the bond had snapped, and you chose him now, when everything was on the line for you.

He knew that he would make the same choice, putting everything on the line for you, preparing to finally take down Beron.

“I choose you too.”

[revasserium]

Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince

opla requests are: open

lips on every cross

opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not

summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.

a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".

01. when love arrives

(“Hey Princess —“)

The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.

The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.

“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.

Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.

“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”

Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.

“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”

Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.

He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.

Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.

Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.

(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)

Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.

Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.

He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.

And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.

02. a study of light and dark

The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.

“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“

Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.

“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.

“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”

Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”

Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.

When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.

You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.

As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.

“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.

The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.

(“Talk to me, Princess.”)

When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.

03. etymology

Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.

It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.

From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.

Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.

He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.

The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.

He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.

04. tip of the iceberg

It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.

Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.

You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.

Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.

“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.

Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.

You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.

“A drink for an answer,” he says.

You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.

“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.

You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.

“No lying.”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”

He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”

This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.

“Got a question in there somewhere?”

Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”

You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”

Zoro hums, “Your turn.”

You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”

You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”

Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”

You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.

Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.

The ‘please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.

And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.

“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”

05. the secret history

It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.

The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.

“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.

Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”

Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.

You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.

Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.

It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.

“Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”

“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.

And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.

Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.

“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.

You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.

If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.

Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”

Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.

“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”

06. eternal day

Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.

“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.

“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.

And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.

07. endless night

By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.

08. torn asunder

Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —

Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.

A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.

A flash of pale pink catches his eye.

Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.

He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.

His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.

And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.

It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.

“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.

Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.

Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.

“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”

At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”

Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

09. the tower and the throne

The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.

“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”

The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.

“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”

The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.

Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.

The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.

Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.

You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.

For the first time, you wince openly at her words.

10. waiting for the rain

The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.

You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.

There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.

“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”

You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.

“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.

“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”

You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.

“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”

At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.

“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”

You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.

Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.

“Insolence!”

“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”

And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.

You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.

“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”

Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.

It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.

11. to reap and to sow

You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.

“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”

Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”

Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.

“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”

You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.

“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.

“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.

His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”

It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —

Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.

“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.

You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.

“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.

“Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.

But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.

“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.

“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”

You bite your lips, “I think you did.”

Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.

“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”

12. lost stars

It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.

You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —

“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.

Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.

“Did he hurt you?”

Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”

Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”

Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.

“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.

Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”

“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”

“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.

“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.

There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.

“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”

You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.

“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”

Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.

“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.

“Oh?”

“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”

And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”

It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.

“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.

“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.

“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”

You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.

Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.

You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For coming after me.”

Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.

“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”

But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”

“Hn.”

Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”

“Hm?”

“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”

You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.

“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”

“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”

Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.

“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.

And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.

But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.

It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.

“Z-Zoro…”

“Yes Princess?”

You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.

“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”

“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.

Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.

“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”

[shooting-love-arrows]

Hi! Can I request more on the Yandere! Barabarian? I dont of anything specif besides that but, maybe about his and darlings' life now after marriage?

Hello to you too @misfortunateleprechaun,

Here it is! Hope to hear from you again and have a nice day (even if it's not a daytime)!

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 and marriage headcanons

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) Tw. kidnapping, implied murder, blood, possessive tendencies, raids, marking, (at the end) horny yandere, grinding, mention of sex but nothing specific. A/N: There's a mention of a random name and celebration so don't fret that you don't know about something. Everything here is made up!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

When you are officially married to 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, you not only become his lifelong partner and a soul connected to his own for all of eternity but you also become one of his people. This means everything related to your past should end up just like your village – turned to ashes. Forgotten and left behind. The only good things your parents did were creating you. The village? Don’t make him laugh! He never saw a more pathetic excuse of one before in his life. So stop wasting your tears on them and embrace your new family and him!

“Shh…my treasure…shhh…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 tried to console you. Even when you continue to trash in his hold, hit him in the chest repeatedly or scratch at him, he only brought you closer and tightened his hold on you. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t understand why you were acting like that, hysterically sobbing and pushing him away. Nor ever was he forced to comfort the person who was acting like that. “Why are you shedding tears for them? Shhh... Let’s celebrate Night Of Miracles (made up celebration) with your new husband and family, hm?”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 teaches you about his culture and language. In those quiet moments shared between you, sitting by fire, he tries his best to be a teacher (and he fails miserably). Although he’s a scholar by no means, he truly wants to make you feel like you belong. To make you understand that what he did and was doing was good. And he finds it amusing when he has to point things out to you like to a toddler. What he can’t teach you about, he requests for someone in his tribe to take his place (of course not without marking you beforehand just to be sure everyone will know who you belong to).

“...and that’s why Trinus I (made up character) brought his beloved the head of his first wife.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 finished the old tale and sighed in content. The story leaves you more traumatized than you already are. There were a few seconds of silence, before he smirked cheekily. “Now, let me tell you about their wedding night.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 marks you a lot and daily. Either by leaving big and deep hickeys in the most visible places or by braiding your hair in a similar way, making you wear his family crest/sigli, offering his clothes to wear and so on. One thing for certain, everyone must know (if they don’t already) that you’re his.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 could only admire you when you walked out of your shared tent, wearing his shirt, hair braided with similar braids to his and hickeys displayed on your neck. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t know whether to be more aroused or start trotting like a peacock. 

Just like any good husband, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 brings you all sorts of gifts from his raids. It doesn’t matter if you want something or not. Either way, he’s going to bring all sorts of objects to choose from. 

“W-what is it?” Your voice cracked after 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 pulled away from a searing ‘welcome back’ kiss. He was still covered in blood, sweaty, smelling like smoke and panting heavily. But what caught your attention was a big woolen bag thrown over his shoulder, material stretched to the max.  𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 only smirked and you watched, horrified, as he carelessly let the items from the bag spill on the floor. You saw clothes, silver dinnerware, money, jewelry (is that a finger with a ring still on?) and many other knick knacks. You gulped thickly. “For you!” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 proudly announced and puffed out his chest.

(NSFW-ish) A lot of sex. This man has high libido and – just like all barbarians – are led by their carnal desires. It’s guaranteed he’s going to bed you on a daily basis. It doesn’t matter where or when. If he wants to have sex with you, then he’s going to do so. It’s especially rough when he returns from raids or hunting trips, covered in sweat and oozing with adrenaline and need of you. Those are wild nights ~

“I need you…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 growled in your ear and aggressively nuzzled his nose in your neck. Since the moment his body touched yours, he started grinding into you. He just loved your scent. It was working on him like an aphrodisiac, turning him into an untamable beast ready to devour you. His chapped lips continue to aggressively leave a trail of wet kisses from your earlobe, down your neck and – after tearing open your loose shirt – your shoulder. “I fucking want you. Now.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader are married. he refers to readers breasts and makes a lewd joke. divider by cafekitsune my most beloved | wc 822

“That one looks like you.”

Squeezing Satoru’s bicep where your hand rests against it, arm looped through his, you giggle and shake your head. The statue in front of you is flesh made marble, a woman with thighs that maybe on a really good day resemble yours so painstakingly crafted that crowds gather to see her. She’s beautiful, a depiction of a goddess from fables you are both vaguely familiar with.

Is this really how he sees you? It makes those same butterflies he always manages to create stir in your belly and you wrinkle your nose, taking a peek up at him but looking away to admire the beauty depicted in front of you.

“You’ve already charmed me, Satoru. You don’t have to tell tall tales.” His gaze shifts from the sculpture to you, something you can feel rather than witness. He scoffs and tilts his head, shifting from standing beside you to in front of you, arms still linked together.

 “You always say that when I compliment you. Why?”

Laughing, you reach to pinch his side with your freehand and he dodges just in the nick of time. It’s preventative, he always giggles and causes a scene when you touch the tender ticklish spot right at his hip bone, and a museum in another country on a trip the two of you had to bend your schedules to go on is not the place to have a tickle fight. He traps your hand in his and deposits it at your side with a smug half smile.

“Let’s not get into it right now. I’ll just say thank you for the compliment and we can move on.”

Never one to take being put off gracefully, he crowds against you until there is zero space between your bodies. You worry about the PDA being seen as offensive or too much and glance around the mostly empty on a weekday museum where everyone else is fairly ignorant of your existence. It’s just the two of you, as always and not just in your head this time. Smiling, you let him embrace you and rest his balled hands against the small of your back, your entire body leaning into his side.

“You know, I’d have a house full of sculptures and paintings of you just like that if you’d let me,” he mumbles under his breath to bait you. You laugh aloud, pressing your cheek to his arm. “What, nude?” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and raises his eyebrows over the tops of his sunglasses. “Obviously. Or clothed or in a gown or in water or tangled in our bed sheets.” 

Pausing to take a breath, he’s surprised to see you already looking up at him when he gazes down at you. He wishes he could capture this with more than just his eyes, his phone and heart. He has painted you before and would create a thousand more odes to his beauty if he had more time on his hands and you’d let him. You’re so eager to disbelieve your own beauty, you haven’t sat to be painted by him in years. 

Satoru makes a mental note to rectify that as soon as the two of you get home but continues to speak now that he has your undivided attention, smirking, all dimples and mischief and the things you love the most about him, the tenderness in your glance a reflection of how you feel.

“I’m just saying. I’m sure I could find some sculptor to carve my pretty wife and would do those,” he glances down at your chest and you roll your eyes half-heartedly, still wearing the smile he put on your face with his casual comparison of your likeness to that of a goddess. “The artistic justice they deserve.”

Despite the tongue in cheek joking, he can be such a romantic when he wants to be. You kind of feel he’s laying it on a little thick because you’re on vacation but what’s the harm in having fun when it is luxuriously just the two of you, the rarity that it is?

Smiling up at him, you offer a better solution.

“Maybe they can sculpt both of us. We can see if they’ll do that,” you subtly reach down and pat just below his belt buckle before he can swat at your hand or turn on his Infinity to keep you away, pulling your hand away as quickly as you can. “Some justice too.”

Now that’s an idea he appears to like, his smirk sliding into a full smile. You pat his arm and separate yourself from him, only to be met with a whine. You reach behind you and grab his hand, fingers intertwining as naturally as they always do, pulling him along with you.

“Now let me show you which one reminds me of you,” you tease him, smiling over your shoulder. 

[lovebugism]

u said 2 do ur worst for shy!r so…. steve and reader go to the hawkins snowball dance and a slow song comes on and its a uber romantic song (i’m talking taylor swift type romance) and steve ofc asks r to dance… she’s super shy so she keeps looking at the floor but then steve does the thing where you lift the other persons chin up so they’re looking into ur eyes… if u wanna elaborate on this :)

i changed this up a wee bit, but i hope u like it! — when steve is finally crowned prom king, all he can think about is getting a dance with his (sorta) secret girlfriend (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.2k)

Steve abandons his crown and scepter somewhere between the bleachers and the snack table. The thought of finding you is far more important than the chunks of plastic they give him. 

The cold breeze of the early evening cools his warm cheeks, flushed red from the adrenaline and the alcohol. He finds you sitting on the wooden bench outside the gymnasium, pretty and all alone. The skirt of your fairy-tale dress billows around your calves. Elbows digging into your thighs, you prop your chin on your fists and pout softly beneath the pale moonlight. 

You’re the prettiest thing Steve’s ever seen. The saddest, too, maybe.

“Been looking for you,” he says to announce his presence. The lopsided smile on his face is audible. You know it’s dancing on his pink mouth before you ever turn around to face him. 

He’s a pretty thing in a sleek tux. Boyishly handsome. Sort of like he’s playing dress-up. The thought almost makes you smile.

“Sorry,” you apologize in a mousy voice, blinking up at him with sparkly, made-up eyes when he looms over you. “It got… really loud in there…”

“Well, Tommy spiked the punch, so… It was kinda inevitable,” Steve jokes with a lazy shrug, even though he isn’t really joking. 

He watched the idiot steal his dad’s best liquor from the high-up cabinet two hours ago. The Hawkins High class of ’85 got drunk on it in record time. The school pulses with life accordingly. The brick behind you threatens to shake with it.

Your nose scrunches. “Is that why it tasted like gasoline?”

“Probably,” Steve grins.

He huffs and sits at the spare spot next to you. The old bench creaks in protest. He takes his first good breath all night when he’s finally alone with you. The fresh air and your perfume fill his lungs, smoother than silk. There’s a subtle euphoria and a distant nostalgia between it all. 

He’s spent years chasing this feeling. He thought maybe being crowned prom king would solve all his problems. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. ‘Cause you did.

“You coming back inside?”

Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you ponder the question. “I don’t know… Probably not.”

Steve’s freshly shaven face swirls with visible confusion. He loves a party — especially when he’s the life of it — so it’s hard for him to comprehend how other people don’t. Even though he knows, more than anyone else, that you’re made of something much more delicate than that.

“Why not?”

“Prom’s not really my scene, Steve,” you answer with a scoffed-out laugh.

He flashes you a crooked smile in return, painted silver in the moonlight. His cologne swaddles you in its musk when he leans over to nudge your shoulder. “You promised me a dance, remember?”

Your soft features harden into a frown. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, c’mon! You know you wanna dance with me,” he protests through a poorly bitten-back laugh.

“Why?” you press, meeting his beam with a lighthearted scowl. “So all your friends can laugh at me?”

“Screw ‘em! They’re assholes— who cares?”

“I care. ‘Cause you’re not the one they’re laughing at, King Steve.”

You spit the stupid nickname with playful venom in your tone, but Steve can’t help but smile at it, anyway. He’s a week away from graduating, halfway employed, and Hawkins High’s reigning prom king. It’s all slightly maddening — especially now that he’s got you.

He wonders if you applauded when he won that stupid crown. If you laughed at him about it, or if you were strangely proud. He’ll ask you about it later. After he gets that dance.

“Let ‘em laugh,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, averting your gaze with a sad smile. You wish it were that easy. 

“You don’t know what it’s like,” you tell him as the heavy bass inside the school starts to slow. Through the high-up frosted windows, you hear Girls on Film fade into Never Tear Us Apart. 

“Sorry for wanting to dance with my girlfriend,” he teases to ease the tension. It comes out more serious than he intended, though, ‘cause he is sort of sorry. Nothing about your two worlds exactly meshes — yet here he is, still hopelessly trying to tangle them together.

You know this, so you sigh. “Sorry for not being prom queen,” you joke back, only partly serious. You blink at him with a pair of twinkling eyes — slightly smudged with mascara. The sparkles of your eyeshadow glint when they catch the moonlight. 

“Don’t want you to be prom queen,” Steve confesses softly, smiling at you somehow softer. “I like you the way you are right now.”

You get a warm, tingly feeling in your stomach. It wells up your chest and into your throat until you feel like you might cry. 

You roll your eyes at him when they start to burn, laughing softly to distract from the overwhelming feeling. Your gaze flits to the velvet night sky, speckled with twinkling stars, until you get the courage to look back at the boy beside you. His face glitters with something hopeful. 

You swallow hard and ask, “You still want that dance or what?”

Steve glows with a boyish excitement. “Yeah! Are you kidding? Of course, I do.”

“Out here, though,” you tell him when he rises from the bench.

He smiles at the stern look in your delicate eyes. “Why? You ashamed of me or somthin’?” he jokes, as if he wasn’t named just prom king.

You stand before him with your arms crossed over the pretty corset of your dress. You bite back a smile. “I just wanna spend time with my boyfriend without it being on the cover of The Weekly Streak tomorrow,” you confess.

“Fair enough,” Steve nods, smoothing his wide hands over your sides. 

Yours are much less confident. They tremble with a misplaced worry as they spread over his shoulders. Your fingers fidget on the satin lapels of his expensive suit. His longer ones guide you back and forth, swaying you gently to the slow beat of the muffled song.

—Don’t ask me, what you know is true…

Don’t have to tell you, I love your precious heart—

You get lost in it all before you mean to. The warmth of having him so close, swaddled in his big hands and deep cologne. 

His honeyed gaze hasn’t yet wavered from you, but you don’t have the heart to meet it. He’s looking at you like he loves you. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re the fucking prom queen. 

You don’t feel particularly deserving of any of it.

“Are you still having fun?” you ask with a scrunched nose, visibly riddled with feelings of inadequacy. You still haven’t quite figured out why he’d rather be out here with you than inside with everyone else — with Vicki Carmichael, the actual prom queen.

“Loads,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His hands squeeze reassuringly at your hips as he flashes you a crooked grin. “It’s not even a question, honestly. I’d choose you over those schmucks in there any day of the week.”

He nods his slicked-back hair to the pulsing brick a few feet away. A few gelled chestnut strands drape over his forehead. You fight the urge to push them back.

“Really?” you squeak with your pretty face, all dolled up, twisted with an innocent look of confusion.

You have no idea how beautiful you are, Steve thinks to himself.

“Yeah,” he nods, grinning wide and wearing all his adoration on his chiseled, golden face. He could hide it if he tried. “Tommy Hagan isn’t nearly as pretty to look at.”

[faesdreaming]

Yandere Deity - Altar

tw: yandere behaviour, possessive/obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, diety uses he/him pronouns, gaslighting, yandere using his abilities to mess with reader’s perception of reality

“Haven’t you come to worship at my altar?”

•A lone Deity part of a forgotten pantheon, lost to the sands of time. What once was a bountiful temple; filled with offerings and gifts of fruits, meats, candles, with sounds of prayers and hymns of worship ringing through the halls, people streaming in to sing his praise, is now nothing but an empty ruin.

•He’s so very lonely. Nary a person has come to visit him in centuries. Years pass by and he has nothing, no one. Until you. A fateful eve when you happen upon the temple. Hidden away in the heart of a lush jungle, you, an archaeologist, find your El Dorado, your city of gold. You’d long since heard tales of a lost civilization, an Atlantis on land. Yet, here the remnants lay in front of your eyes.

•At the heart of the ruins lays a temple, grand and golden. Although time has chipped away at its’ grandeur, it’s still glorious, in your opinion. It’s a testament to humanity’s evolution. You don’t notice him though, no one does. But he’s noticed you. Nosy little thing, aren’t you? Impudent, little mortal wretch. He ought to kill you for your audacity. Daring to defile his sacred temple, you deserve nothing but the most painful end,

•But, you’re not actually defiling it, are you? You’re so respectful, treating every artifact as though it were the Holy Grail. You revere his temple, it’s a wonder, a marvel to you. It, you treatment, you reverence— you make him feel something new, something foreign. The attention you give him is intoxicating. He’s been forgotten, left behind. Yet, you’re here now. And he isn’t going to let you go.

•So, when a series of natural disasters occurs and suddenly your team is halved, some leaving after the first incident, others meeting fates you don’t want to recall. The others are slowly losing hope, they’ve lost friends, money, time to your passion project. This is your life’s work, you can’t just give up, can you? You don’t want to. You really don’t. But you’re smart enough to know when to cut your losses.

•Then, another freak accident hits. This time is more devastating. Nobody escaped unscathed, nobody escapes at all. Nobody is except for you. You slip in and out of consciousness. One moment, you’re in the rubble amongst your dead coworkers and friends, and suddenly you’re in a bed, soft and warm. You’re delirious, unable to actually make out anything. But you’re certain there’s someone taking care of you. A man. A beautiful man, something, someone, divine. His touch is soft and gentle. Caring even. He placates you with sweet platitudes you can’t quite comprehend in this state, but the smooth baritone of his voice makes your heart soar.

•When you fully regain consciousness, you’re able to see your surroundings. You’re in a room filled with luxury. Ornate decor, golden furniture, the whole nine yards. It’s impressive, if not a little, a lot, off-putting. How did you get here? Who was the man taking care of you? Thousands of questions and thoughts flood your mind. It’s interrupted by him, the man.

“You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

•You blink in confusion. It’s—he’s— everything is too much. Too overwhelming. He chuckles, it’s a rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. He reassures you, slowly and gently placing a strong hand of on your shoulder. There’s something commanding in his soft tone, something compelling you to swallow the lump in your throat and obey. He laughs again and you blush.

•He introduces himself as the one who’s been taking care of you. Doesn’t offer you any explanation as to why, but you ought to be grateful. After all, you could have been left out to die. He offers you food and water. You eat like a man starved and drink the water as though it were the sweetest ambrosia. He offers to let you stay here— where is here?— with him.

“You may leave whenever you decide to leave.”

•He promises, even escorts you out of the room, down halls that moves and shift, and spin around. You’re dizzy, delirious, unable to care for yourself. He carries you back to the room. How embarrassing. Your apologies when you regain your composure are shrugged off. It’s fine, he insists. You’re sick, vulnerable. He reiterates his offer, stay until you get better— you could’ve sworn he said stay forever— and are able to fend for yourself. You nod your head in agreement. It’s the logical choice, really. You’d probably die on your own.

•He smiles a brilliant smile at you, swears he’ll care for you diligently. And he has been, hasn’t he? You’re beginning to trust him, have faith— why?— in him. He stays true to his word. Working tirelessly to care for not only your body but your mind as well. Sleepless nights are spent with him by your side, telling you folktales and myths, singing soft lullabies to lull you to sleep, or even merely conversing with you. Days are spent improving your health. He feeds you by hand sometimes when you are too weak to do it yourself. When your health shows signs of improvement, you both go on walks, exploring the extensive gardens and many palace— temple, building, you’re not sure where you are— halls.

•He gifts you with many things too. Soft silk robes, shining jewels, ancient tomes and books, everything you desire you’re given. It’s not your fault, really, that you start to love him— do you?— especially not when’s he’s so kind. So handsome, beautiful really. He looks inhuman, like something divine. He’s attentive and nurturing. Your own prince charming. Your feelings grow as time progresses— how long has it been, you need to leave— until you can’t contain it.

•One day, as he presses a warm cloth to your forehead, you notice just how close he is. How he’s just out of touch. You greedily drink it in, unconsciously inching closer until your lips are pressed against his. The kiss is soft, chaste and you immediately pull away. Your stammering and feeble apologies are interrupted by his hand cupping your cheek. He leans in, your heart thumping in your chest, and kisses you again. This time, you don’t pull away.

•He, your lover, your heart loves you too. It’s surreal— too surreal— and your days spent together become all the more special. You’re utterly content with him, he’s become the air you breathe, the light of your life, you’re everything. It’s only natural for you to become consumed by him. By your life with your beloved— to forget you ever had a life before— spending eternity forever in his arms.

“We only have until forever, love.”

[luveline]

i love the kbd universe so so much! could you please do one where sweet little bethie (☹️) has been getting a hard time from other kids at school/nursery for being ‘weird’/‘different’ and how steve and reader would handle it?? sorry if that’s too specific my lovely! hope you’re having a good day!! 🫶

thank you!! kbd au —steve employs your help when your daughter needs a pep talk. 1.5k

“Why’s my girl so sad?” 

“I’m not sad.” 

Steve raises his brows at Beth. She looks especially like you when she’s down. It’s sort of sad, thinking about it, how her lips turn like yours would, how she won’t meet his gaze or hold his hand when he tries to intertwine their fingers. 

“Aw, honey, don’t tell me tall tales,” he says, no actual scolding in his tone. He sees the shimmer of tears aligned on her bottom lashes and can’t abide her fibs anymore, scooping her off of the couch and into his arms. “Bethieeeee,” he whines, “tell me what’s wrong! You know I hate not knowing everything about you.” 

“Dad,” she says, letting her head loll in the curve of his neck, “nothing is wrong.” 

Liar, he thinks. From the kitchen he can hear you and Dove and baby Wren singing. Avery potters around in the downstairs bathroom, humming. Steve knows Beth is sad, because Beth is quiet, but she still has as much energy as the rest of her sisters when she’s home. She isn’t introverted when she’s with him, or her mother, and especially not the best big sister in the world. 

“Okay,” he says. He should poke and prod. Instead, he lifts her up as high as he can, which, not to brag, is quite high. “Hi up there. How’s the weather?” 

She jabs him in the chest with her foot. “It’s windy.” 

Steve laughs like an idiot and brings her down for some adoring kisses. “Super windy. Babe, you get funnier and funnier everyday.”

She wraps her arms behind his head. “Thank you.” 

“Ooh, you’re welcome. Should we go and sing some songs with mommy?” 

Beth shakes her head. “No.” 

“No?” 

“No.” She sounds like a baby. 

Steve sits down with an arm behind her back. He’d quite like a bit of peace and quiet. He doesn’t mind if she needs some too. “Then let’s stay right here, bub, jus’ me and you.” 

Dustin once said that Steve was about as much use as a paper cup in a hurricane when it came to comforting people, but that was nearly a decade ago, and it was before he met you. You rushed into Steve’s life (by accident on both sides) and showed him how it felt to be properly looked after for the first time ever. He can’t forget how that felt. Robin loves him but she couldn’t love him like that, couldn’t kiss a bruise and fix it whole, couldn’t ease a migraine with her fingers in his hair. You touch Steve’s arm and he can lift a ten tonner. 

He’s more equipped than ever to comfort someone now. He had a good teacher. 

“You have a long day today, huh?” he asks. 

“Not much.” 

He smiles. “Not much long?” he asks. 

“Dad,” she grumbles. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do… so you didn’t find it too long?” 

“I guess.” Beth touches under his chin. “You have sharpies.” 

“My stubble? Should I shave tonight?” 

“Yes,” she says emphatically. “Don’t like scratchy kisses.” 

“Oh, so you wanted more kisses?” he asks. “Would that help you feel better? How about we meet in the middle and get mom to kiss you? She’s not so sharp.” 

She sighs, her nose shoved into his collar. “Dad, can you rub my back?” 

Steve rubs her back immediately. She makes no other request, lips firmly shut and secret upset sealed away, feeling at his stubble with gentle fingers. She loves foreign sensations like this. It’s why she likes having her back rubbed, Steve theories; the pressure of his hand on her spine is dragging, and grounding. 

He shifts against the grain of a cushion behind his back. 

“I want to tell you,” Bethie says finally. 

“I always want to listen,” he promises. 

She doesn’t sound teary, more uncomfortable as she finally forces it out, “Nobody at school likes me.” 

“Babe, that’s not true at all.” 

“It is true. They all think I’m weird.” 

“I bet they don’t, babe.” 

“Dad, they all say it.” 

Steve bites his cheek as his mouth snaps shut. “Well,” he says quietly, cupping the side of her face, encouraging her head back to meet her eyes. They’re big in her little face, pupils like pearls, “that’s not very nice.” 

“It’s true.” 

“Not true.” 

“It is true,” she says angrily. 

“It’s not true, Beth, you’re not weird, and if you are weird then I’m weird, and that’s not a bad thing after all. Is it?” 

Internally, it breaks his heart. Beth has been different than the other kids for a long time and in lots of ways. She’s picky, peculiar. She eats things in her own fashion, and has interests outside of her peers. Steve didn’t know she was ‘abnormal’ until people started telling him —she’s his second baby. He didn’t think they were all the same, and so didn’t question her differences, and still doesn’t care to beyond wondering what he can do to make her happy. Who cares if Beth eats two bites of sandwich for every celery stick? 

The other kids. Some parents. 

“I don’t want to be weird,” she says, hanging her head. 

You arrive like a well-timed miracle, shimmying past the half open door with a smile. “Hi, guys. I want you to come and do karaoke, what do you think? I’m making everybody mocktails! We’re having pineapple juice and–” You lean back, hand on your hip, a slip of your stomach peaking out of your tank top, total picture of a cool mom as you cross your naked arms over your stomach. “Oh, no. What’s wrong?” you ask teasingly. 

Steve squeezes Beth to his neck. “Hey, none of your business!” 

“No, tell me,” you say, crossing the room to sit beside them on the couch. 

“You wanna tell her?” Steve asks. 

Beth shakes her head. “Didn’t want to tell you, dad.” 

“You did, lovely,” he says, all sympathy as you cuddle up to Steve’s side and wrap an arm around them both. “You said you wanted to tell me. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell us again, though. Mommy just wants to make you feel better, right?” 

“Right,” you say. When you smile at her, it’s with all the love in the world. 

She’s quicker to cry in her mother’s lap. She wiggles closer to your shoulder, her voice fraught as she confesses, “Everybody at school says I’m weird,” and erupts into breathless sobbing, like she’s terrified of the idea. 

Your eyes wrinkle as you close them tight, frowning into the top of her head. “Oh, my poor girl. My baby. Please don’t cry, because that’s not true. You’re not weird.” 

“Everybody says I am!” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, pushing Steve away accidentally as you wrap her into a proper hug. “Who says that?” 

“Mom, it’s everyone. Even my friends.” 

Kids can be so mean, when they aren’t trying and when they are. You mumble sweet placatives, fingers running up and down the length of Beth’s shuddering back. She cries like she’s hurting. Steve’s reminded of the time she fell down the stairs and hit her face on the baby gate, she was shocked but more urgently in pain, and she couldn’t work out why she’d fallen. 

“That’s not nice, Beth,” you’re saying, “I’m so sorry they’re saying mean things about you, but you’re not weird, I don’t know why they’d say something like that. They’re just not as nice as my girl.” 

“I’m different,“ she says. 

“That’s not a bad thing, Beth. You’re perfect. I wouldn’t want you any other way, and neither would your dad.”

Steve jumps in. “Right! We like you like this, babe. I don’t want you to change, I don’t care what all the meanies at school say, me and mom think you’re awesome. Avery and Dove and Wren all think you’re the best sister and best friend ever. Avery’s your best friend. Has she ever called you weird?” 

The baby talk is sinking in. If you used your bubbly voices on Avery it might not work anymore, but Beth is just about young enough for it to take. “No… You really think I’m not weird?” Beth asks sadly. 

No kid wants to think they’re weird, even if they are, and even if that’s okay. 

You sink down into your seat, taking Beth with you. Steve has to fight to cuddle you both. “I know you’re not,” you say. 

For a good five minutes, you just hug her. Steve ends up laying his cheek against your temple, hand on Beth’s back so she knows he’s there. When the baby starts babbling loudly for you to come back, Steve takes the short straw and leaves you both for cuddling. 

“What’s up, dad?” Avery asks, standing on a chair by the baby’s high chair, feeding her youngest sister cut up strawberries on a spoon. Dove eats her own strawberries with sliced bananas and peanut butter, the evidence of the latter staining her blue t-shirt.

Steve pats the top of Avery’s head. “Nothing much, baby. I’ve come to make you your mocktail.” 

“Oh, yes! With sugar? Bethie loves the sugar.” 

She doesn’t know how glad he is that she’s Beth’s big sister. “With the sugar.” 

[bilolli]

Just Dance Care AU!

Ok ok so I thought of a story for this Au but it’s nothing really impactful or full of drama and angst like my other au’s, I wanted to leave this au easy and fun to play around, because, let’s say it. Just Dance and drama in the same sentence makes me laugh. 

story and PNG version under the cut!

(I gave up on Y/n design because I couldn't figure out a general look for them. This is you we are talking about! Draw your own JD fit, I'll draw mine soon XD)

Anyway here’s the story so far: 

Year 2029, videogames industry made a huge step forward and classic consoles and devices were substituted by the new and upgraded VR headsets with full body tracking. It’s something like the NerveGear in Sword Art Online without the kill switch. Some games still require you to actually move your body (like fitness games or sports because yeah, they don’t have a purpose otherwise). 

Y/n wanted to buy the newest VR headset but, while searching for the best offer, they found out FazCo entertainment was hosting a giveaway, the prize? One of their prototypes, a VR meant to be released the next year coinciding with the opening of their first mega pizza plex.

(so the plex doesn’t exist right now). You decide to sign up for the giveaway and after a while you receive an email telling you you won the VR headset and that, to claim it, you need to read and sign a series of NDA policies (understandable, it’s a prototype headset that’s not even in commerce). Some clauses are a little bit concerning but nothing you hadn’t read on other electronics booklets, so you decide to sign. After, like, a day, you have the VR in your hands. 

The box let you know with super saturated and colorful writing, that the VR came with a game pre-installed inside. Uh, that’s why they were giving one away, they wanted a free game tester…but you know what, it’s worth it.

You always liked Just Dance games, they make you think about happy memories of your childhood. This pre-installed game called “Five Dances at Freddy’s” is a close copy of your childhood game with original FazCo songs, characters, environments and also some collaborations with other famous artists. It probably will be the cause of a big copyright infringement report.

There are various ways to play it: story mode, Casual dance, Five Dances, and Just Dance Care.

The first one is similar to the casual dance mode but with little cutscenes between a dance and another to tell a tale, Casual dance is how you can play the collab songs, Five Dances is the multiplayer mode and Just Dance Care is a more uhhhh “hard” way to play the game with all the other modes mixed in it. You stare at the description of the last mode smirking and decide to try it first just to see how far you can get before losing (yes you can lose in hard mode in this Just Dance, but you don’t die, you just have to restart from the beginning). Turns out the FazCo wasn’t kidding when they advertised the new headset as a breakthrough in the world of virtual reality headsets, the thing TRANSPORTED you inside the game itself. 

You almost have a heart attack when you can’t find your VR on your head, but before you can try something you are blocked by two tall individuals who you think are the “tutorial” characters. 

Yadda yadda, tutorial, you can pause the game and exit whenever you need just by opening an hidden menu, you find out your tutorial characters are called Sun and Moon and that you are way worse than you remembered at dancing (damn full body tracking, there is no way you are going to do a cartwheel in the middle of a dance, you still don’t know if your body is inside your home and if you’ll physically feel pain if you fall and you don’t want to find out).

You pass an embarrassingly long time trying to win your first dance battle just to discover it was still the tutorial. 

You try to go on with the story but you fail at the first real battle with a bear character named Freddy. 

And guess what? You have to start again from the tutorial! Y/n is gonna spend A LOT of time with Sun and Moon if this goes on.

[rishiguro]

VERDICT - NEUVILLETTE

warnings: mentions of murder. mentions of minor character death. reader has a brother. 3k+ words

a/n: happy angstober people

angstober event

you’ve heard a lot of stories about the fortress of meropide growing up in fontaine.

a prison, not just underground, but underwater, hidden from everybody. a place to lock away the criminals, with barely anybody ever returning after they served their time. personally, you’ve never encountered anybody that actually went there, only a couple of imposters, posing for the media with some wild stories. and while most of these stories sounded like they were trying too hard to get people’s attention with some wild preposterous claims and grotesque details, no one could ever really disprove whatever was said.

an aura of mystery surrounded the fortress and its so-called ‘duke’, like a thick fog, and everybody who dared to enter it to find out what was on the other side would never come back to tell the tale. 

who knows, you probably wouldn’t either.

because there was nothing left for you on the surface anymore. just like it was the case for so many people that you had briefly seen when you were given a small part of the fortress – your new home.

refusing to look at the man who was arguably the sole reason why you were in here in the first place, you kept looking up at the dirty ceiling above you. 

could you really spend the rest of your life here? the label ‘criminal’ forever stamped on your forehead for a crime you didn’t commit? 

tears welled up in your eyes as you remembered why you were in here, your chest tightening.

brother.

he seemed to notice your distress while sitting next to you, leaning his body slightly forward. “i’m afraid there’s nothing i can do,” neuvillette said, his voice sounding as apathetic as it did when he had sentenced you. 

blinking rapidly to clear your vision, you shook your head. “there must be,” you answered, turning your head a little. he couldn’t just leave you here, there had to be something he can do, anything, even if it was using his position of power as a literal ‘get-out-of-jail-card’. he couldn’t just turn his back on you, could he? “i swear, i didn’t do it. i’m innocent”

the man sighed, you don’t know if it was in defeat or annoyance. “you were proclaimed guilty”

proclaimed guilty by him. 

you clenched your jaw, pulling yourself up to sit upright on the bed, directly facing neuvillette now. “i thought you said you believed me”

for a long time, his belief in you was the only thing that kept you going. frankly, it was the only thing that helped you stay sane during your trial, the thing that kept you from bursting in tears as the prosecutor told some dramatic story to frame you for the heinous crime you were in for now.

crossing his arms in front of his chest, he looked down for a second, as if to gather his thoughts, carefully weighing his words in his mind. “this isn’t about what i believe in” 

you had to stop your jaw from falling slack, replaying his words over and over again in your mind. not about what he believed in? was this supposed to be a bad joke? a shocked laugh escaped you. he couldn’t be serious. “you’re the chief of justice! of course it’s about what you believe in!” you tried you best to keep your voice calm, but couldn’t help but get a little heated.

“it’s about what’s factual,” he replied immediately, his tone clearly not allowing any kind of protests. his eyes narrowed as he looked at you coldly, clenching his jaw for a second. he took a breath before continuing, his voice back to a regular volume. “and all the evidence is stacked against you” 

as he was talking you already shook your head in disbelief. “i’m innocent! why would i do such a horrible thing?” you reached out to him, grabbing his arm as he turned away, seemingly not wanting to see your outburst. was ist shame that was written all over his face? regret?

“tell me!” you demanded loudly, digging your fingers a little deeper into his arm in desperation. you had to stop yourself from shaking him as your voice grew unsteady and your breather grew a little flatter. “why would i kill my own family, my brother, when he’s the only person i had left?!”

it seemed like he didn‘t have an answer to that, not facing you while you looked at him, waiting for any kind of explanation.

he promised you that he believed you when you came to him with shaky knees and teary eyes, recounting the horrible accusations thrown your way.

he comforted you when you broke down crying, embracing you in one of his rare hugs unprompted while he muttered soft words into your ear, reminding you to breathe regularly.

he held you when you lashed out, angry at your brother for leaving you alone in this scary world and he held you when you fell apart later, feeling guilty for being the only one left and guilty for being angry at your brother in the first place. it wasn‘t his fault — and he certainly never wanted to leave you, you knew that.

the world was cruel and unjust.

but until now you believed that there was some sort of justice and fairness and neuvillette was the only reason you believed that.

even before you had met him you knew about him. his reputation was practically flawless — the people of fontaine spoke about him in a highly manner, a few maybe even more highly than they spoke of their archon: neuvillette was moral, just, fair, his verdicts always being the same ones that the oratrice mecanique d‘analyse cardinale would give, which made him seem infallible. 

and you believed it too. until he became the reason why you believed that the kind of justice served in fontaine wasn’t true, proper justice.

until you lost hope in the only thing that helped you stay sane after you came across the cold body of your own brother.

a shiver ran over neuvillette‘s back when he heard you laugh after his long silence. quickly you let go of his arm, dropping it like it was replaced by hot coals. “i can’t believe it,” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief again. this had to be a joke. would he really lie to you like that when you were the most vulnerable? “you never believed me when i said i didn’t do it, did you?”

much to your dismay, he stayed quiet, only pursing his lips slightly before pressing them together into a thin line. would he really betray you like that? was he ever on your side? “answer me!”

only when hearing your desperate pleas did he look at you again with his determined eyes. “i did. i thought you had no motive” he cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat before crossing his legs like he always did. “as you said, i didn’t think you’d gain anything from murdering your brother”

you recognized this neutral look on his face — the very same look he always took on whenever he was in court, listening to the defender and the prosecutor and finally also delivering his verdict.

“what changed?” you clenched your jaw, anxious about his answer. 

what would it be? did he let himself be swayed by the public opinion, listening to the voices booing your story out? did he trust the prosecutor's fabricated and seemingly flawless story? or were you simply not convincing enough?

“the facts changed,” he calmly stated, making you huff in disagreement.

“bullshit,” you spat, “you just found another story to believe in”

not waiting a second to retort, he leaned back slightly. “i told you, it's not about what i want to believe in, delusions aren’t what makes our justice. it’s fairness, facts,” he sighed. you don‘t know if it was in defeat or in a disappointed manner. his voice became sharper again its him putting his chin higher. “and that is what i represent”

“you‘ve convicted an innocent person,” you declared, mirroring his expression and posture. 

he would leave you here to rot, by now you were sure of it. and yet to you it seemed like he didn‘t really grasp the gravity of this.

neuvillette convicted you of murder. and if this wasn‘t bad enough, he truly believed that you had it in yourself to kill your own brother, your flesh and blood.

the only person you had left.

“i don’t give the final verdict. that is out of my hands,” he claimed, clearly referring to the oratrice — the huge scale behind himself in the court‘s opera epiclese.

was he really pinning the blame on a machine, denying any kind of involvement in your current situation? like he had nothing to do with this?

wasn‘t he supposed to be independent and just? wasn‘t this why he prided himself in his position and why the people of fontaine trusted him? because their beliefs aligned?  

“yet your decisions are always the same. how could you do this to me?”

instead of answering, neuvillette stood up, turning his back on you and taking a few steps towards the exit of your cell, well, dormitory.

could he really just leave like this and leave you behind? did he not feel any kind of remorse, pity, pain?

the echoing steps came to a halt a few moments after. you looked up at him again, only to realize he had already reached the exit. he had his hand on the dark wall, looking at you over his shoulder.

he couldn‘t even properly turn around to talk to you and face you after dooming you?

“i’m afraid there’s nothing i can do,” neuvillette stated in a matter-of-factly tone, “your sentence will be carried out accordingly, unless you wish to evoke your right to challenge a duelist”

so this was it? he would just go and leave you here?

“if there is nothing you wish to say to me, i’ll take my leave”

you knew neuvillette didn‘t exactly feel the way you did. he had troubles with emotions, often lacking the proper words to fully express himself and describing what was going on inside of him. and you used to pride yourself in being able to understand him regardless, possessing the ability to read him almost like an open book. you helped him navigate through the complicated world of feelings, taking your time and going at your speed.

but right now, you were second-guessing everything. was he even capable of any kind of emotion? did he just fool you all this time?

did he truly not feel any kind of remorse for what he did, for what he was doing?

you shook your head in disbelief. this had to be a joke, a sick prank someone played on you and somehow got not just the entire nation of fontaine, but also somehow managed to get neuvillette to play along. at least that‘s what you wanted to believe. “so that’s supposed ‘justice’” 

neuvillette turned around, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “it is justice,” he stated, “it’s about facts, not fiction”

you almost burst out laughing as he said that, so convinced of the system he served in. 

and truly, you once were too.

but you couldn‘t, not anymore. not after seeing how the trial against you turned into some sort of drama, like it was straight out of a book. journalists were publishing articles with grotesque headlines, bombarding you with horrendous questions that left you cringing uncomfortably. 

you watched as the story the prosecutor told got more and more dramatic, pointing at you accusatory as he recounted the ‘true events‘ of the fateful night, completely ignoring whatever you said to dispute his claims. “it’s not about facts, it’s about convenience! it’s just theatrics and entertainment!” you yelled as you jumped on your feet, not being able to contain your voice any longer.

“whoever presents the story that convinces the most people will win. and the people of fontaine are so easy to be swayed,” you continued, not letting the man in front of you get a single word in, “so thirsty for some juicy drama that lets them forget about their boring lives”

you couldn‘t stop yourself from scoffing again before letting a condescending laugh escape you. “and they don’t even have the critical thinking to reflect on everything”

your trial simply proved what you just told him. your point of view, your truth, simply didn‘t matter to the prosecutor or to the public. their story seemed to convenient, something that could be right out of a criminal novel that they loved to devour so much. the headlines in the newspaper were too sensational to be considered factual, too virulent to make any person doubt it. 

“the public’s opinion does not sway the sentence,” neuvillette claimed with a clenched jaw, starting to look agitated. 

and it seemed like they managed to get neuvillette on their side too. 

a sad smile appeared on your face. “then i guess you’re stupid too” stupid for not listening to your side, stupid to believe the prosecutor, stupid to not make a rational judgment.

too stupid to realize that your supposed motive wasn’t a motive at all.

money. why would you kill your own brother for money when the two of you never had anything to begin with? you couldn’t steal something when there wasn‘t anything in the first place. neuvillette knew that. he knew you came from nothing, he knew the two of you had nothing. 

and even if it was a motive — no amount of money would ever be able to heal the wound you had sustained from losing your brother.

how could he be so stupid?

“you’re acting childish,” he stated calmly. 

you were in jail and possibly would never see the light of day again. you were locked in an underwater fortress for a crime you didn‘t commit and nobody believed you.

and his worry was that you were acting childish?

“oh, i’m sorry for not being calm and collected like you after being unjustly sentenced for murdering my own brother!” you raised your voice at him again, angrily stepping closer to him. “and that by the one person that i thought actually believed me”

you had to swallow down the lump in your throat again, blinking rapidly before looking into his eyes again. 

how could he do this to you? was he truly so heartless? 

would he really leave you here, alone and heartbroken?

a familiar warm hand slightly caressed your cheek. “i love you,” he whispered to you, in the same loving voice he had always used with you. “but i cannot make any exceptions” he stepped back, the warmth leaving your cheek again, letting the cold creep up to you again. he looked almost hurt himself and you were almost willing to feel pity for him — maybe if he wasn���t the chief of justice. maybe if he couldn’t put a stop to all of this, “not even for you”

maybe if he had kept his promise to you.

your fingertips grazed over your cheek, longing for the warmth that neuvillette’s hand provided just a few seconds earlier. your chest tightened as you dug your teeth into your lower lip, feeling your eyes well up again. “so that’s it? you love me, but not enough to believe me? not enough to keep me safe? free?”

you clenched your fists at your sides, not noticing that he was doing exactly the same.

“this is about so much more than just you!” he exclaimed angrily, his voice practically booming off the walls, “you’re too self-centered to understand this!” 

did not wanting to rot in prison after being framed for a crime really make you self-centered? was that all he thought of you now?

“it’s my duty! my promise to the people from fontaine, my promise to our archon and my promise to myself to uphold justice,” he continued his rant, his voice growing uncharacteristically theatrical. 

was he really just a part of the theatrics of fontaine‘s supposed just court? was his equitable self just a ruse, an act he put on to fit in?

did you ever really know him?

“what about your promise to me?” your voice wasn‘t much more than a whisper as you spoke, looking up at him. not that you‘d be able to actually see him with how blurry your vision got from the tears in your eyes.

as childish and naive as it was, you couldn‘t help but wish for him to remember.

it was a late summer night, the first evening where you could finally go out. the past days it had rained with seemingly no end in sight and now you felt like you could finally breathe again.

you had been strolling around the city without any real goal, simply admiring how many people enjoyed the summer warmth after so many cold and wet days. 

neuvillette‘s hand was entangled with yours, the two of you walking in silence, simply enjoying each other‘s company. you had been seeing each other for a while now and yet it was still early enough for you to feel slightly nervous whenever you were near him, stomach turning and feeling butterflies when you held hands, hugged or kissed. 

it was on that day when he pulled you close to the fountain of lucine, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you spend some time listening to the ambience — the water running, the pigeons and other birds chirping and the few people talking around you, some whispering wishes to the fountain, some gleefully joking with each other. 

most people had already left when he turned you around to face him, letting go of your waist to grab your hands, pressing a kiss on your knuckles before he spoke.

it was the first time that he told you that he loved you, finally revealing just how much he cared for you and cherished you. how he would do everything in his power to protect you, how he would always believe you and how he would always stay by your side. 

how even when everybody turned their back on you, you would always have him. 

and yet here you were now.

you didn’t know what you would prefer — him forgetting about that day or him remembering, but simply not caring enough to act on it.

like everything he had told you — promised you — has been a lie. 

clenching his jaw, neuvillette turned around again.

no.

blinking away your tears you weakly called out his name, a part of you still expecting him to turn around.

don‘t go.

you hoped for a miracle, a change of heart. you wanted him to rush to you, to comfort you, to love you again.

maybe then everything would turn out to be okay again.

you stumbled, the back of your knees hitting the chair he had been sitting earlier, falling onto it.

don‘t leave me.

you still hoped that everything was just a big mistake.

you called out to him again, fighting against the tears that kept welling up in your eyes, leaving neuvillette‘s figure in front of you all blurred again. “what about that? why can you betray me like that, but not them?”

“i’m sorry” and with that he left, not even sparing you a single glance on his way out, as you pulled your knees up, hugging them while the tears began to roll over your cheek again.

reblogs are appreciated !

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 15 || The New Information

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, a bit of angst, and fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.2k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——"PLEASE GO AWAY," YOU SIGHED desperately in response to the man behind you as if your words would make him disappear.

That laugh of his you once found pleasant but now find annoying is heard. "Relax, sweets. I'm not here to bother you." Gojo hums.

You don't turn around to face him just yet, "Is Shoko here?"

"Nope." He replies simply.

Your brows furrow, "Then how'd you get in?"

"You should really check your text messages, love."

There's a pang in your chest at the sound of that specific pet name. "Don't call me that." You say through slightly gritted teeth.

Gojo scoffs, "Why?"

"Cause' you don't mean it." You explain simply, "You're just saying shit just to say it and it's baseless, it's fake."

"It's not, actually." He argues.

"Whatever. Why are you here?"

He diverts, "Was that Choso I just saw?"

"None of your business." You tell him. "Why are you here?"

"It actually is my business since you wouldn't even know the guy without me," Gojo argues.

You scoff, annoyance is stirring within you. "I might've."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," You whisper, your voice solemn. "I might've even had a chance with him..."

"You wanted one?" He scoffs again, "Seriously?"

"Yes Gojo, yes I did."

"Well he's still on the list so you can-"

"No, I can't." You cut off, "I can't get with him Gojo, you know that."

"What's stopping you from getting with him?" He asks in a confused manner.

You think you lose it after he asks such a stupid question. You slowly turn around to face the man and see him standing in front of your room, resting against the doorframe.

"Don't ask me stupid questions like that. Why are you here?" You voice out sternly.

It's clear that you're both tired and upset and Gojo even notices the way you're leaning back against the door to hold yourself up.

He raises an eyebrow, "Did you and him just..." Both of his eyebrows then raise as he makes his own assumptions. "Damn, three in one day? Are you becoming a whore?" Gojo gasps dramatically.

Your face twists up and you scowl, "What?"

"I mean, first you sucked Suguru off in his car, then you went and got pounded by Mr. Fushiguro, and then you somehow made time to sleep with Choso as well?" He assumes, "Shit, I'm impressed."

"What the hell? No, that's not what happened."

"So... why're your legs shaking so much?" Gojo asks with a concerned tilt of his head.

You glance down at yourself and then scoff. "Mr. Fushiguro has a big dick, that's why."

"Uhuh..." Gojo hums, unamused.

You then look back up to him. "And how did you know about me and Suguru...?"

"He told me."

"Of course he did."

Gojo shakes his head, "Y'know, if I keep paying you for every time you sleep with him, I'm gonna go broke."

"Not my problem."

"But it literally is."

"Where do you get all this money from anyways?"

"I have my sources." Gojo shrugs.

You blink. "Okay... Well, you agreed to pay me, so-"

"I didn't agree to you becoming a whore." Gojo claims. You can tell there's something about the whole thing that's bothering him.

"That's what I've been from the start though," You snap back, "Isn't it?"

He pauses. Those blue eyes of his simply stare at you from across the room and you notice you've got him stuck.

After a moment of thought, he speaks again. "Maybe. But the list is different..." Gojo says.

You roll your eyes, "How?"

"You're only supposed to fuck someone and get paid once."

"If that's the case, why'd you agree on allowing me to fuck someone and get paid more than once?" You ask with an innocent tilt of your head.

There's a vein popping out along the man's jawline and his eyes are low, "Cause' I didn't think you'd turn Suguru into your little fuck buddy."

"It was his idea, y'know." You blurt out. "He's the one who suggested the whole thing."

"So?" Gojo blinks, "You're the one who keeps meeting up with him."

"I need the money." You shrug.

"Is that the only reason you keep hooking up with him?" Gojo questions, chuckling a little. His distaste is obvious and written all over his face, "Cause' you need the money??"

"Yeah." You hum.

"Liar."

"What other reason would I have?"

"You're doing it to piss me off."

You laugh at his words, finding true amusement in the way he thinks everything is about him. "Oh please. I'm sleeping with Suguru because he fucks me well and I'm getting paid for it."

Gojo shrugs, "I could do the same thing."

"Yeah, but I don't like you." You tell him for what feels like the millionth time. "Even thinking about sleeping with you again makes me wanna throw up."

His face twists up in disbelief, "Bullshit."

"It's not."

"Nobody on that list, including Suguru, can fuck you better than me."

You can't help but laugh at the man again, "Mr. Fuhsiguro just did."

"Oh really?" Gojo scoffs.

"Yeah. His dick's bigger than yours too."

"Think I care?"

"Wouldn't be standin' here right now if you didn't."

"I'm actually only here to drop that off," Gojo tells you as he nods his chin toward the nearby counter.

You glance over and spot a few racks of cash designated for you. A pleased hum leaves you before you look back over to Gojo.

An eyebrow is raised at him, "Well, you dropped it off. Shouldn't you be on your way out now?"

"I should but..." Gojo suddenly pulls something out from behind his back. It's the journal you'd been writing in. "We've gotta talk about the stupidness behind writing down the details of the list in this journal of yours." He hums.

Your eyes go wide, "What the hell? Did you go rummaging through my room??"

"Uh, no. Someone left it sitting on their nightstand."

"You'd have to look into my room to see that..."

"I saw you changed your room around and took a peek," Gojo tells you honestly as if it's no big deal.

You don't know why but the fact that he even recognized the change in your bedroom stuck you oddly. Did you like the fact that he noticed? Or did it piss you off that he looked in there to begin with? Perhaps it was a bit of both...

"Okay, stalker much?" You say with an unamused laugh. You then begin to steadily make your way toward the man, your eyes locking onto the journal held in his hands. "Also, I need that back."

Gojo laughs at you and waves the item around, "You need this back? What for? At this point, it's like you're asking for someone to find it and figure everything out."

You lean against the nearby counter and halt yourself, "I-I'm not... I just wanted to keep everything organized."

"This is by far the dumbest way to do so." He comments, pushing himself off the wall and looking down at the journal.

Gojo makes his way over to you, his tall frame standing right in front of you. Those blue eyes of his are down on you, a taunting glint evident within his gaze.

You glare up at him, annoyed by every little thing about him-- his presence, his words, his voice, his stupidly handsome face, that attractive ass smirk he has as he stares at you, and the way his closeness makes you feel all weird inside.

"Just give me the journal and leave. Please?" You request with a sigh.

Gojo puts on this little pout to mock you, "How about no?"

"I thought you said you weren't here to bother me, this is bothering me." You huff.

He chuckles, "Sweets, I'm pretty sure everything I do bothers you." He then leans down to your face, "I bother you."

Your glare is continuous, "You do."

"Exactly so, that statement I made earlier was uh... what was it you said? Oh yeah, baseless." Gojo recalls.

The smirk he has on his face fades away and he leans up from your face. He then holds the journal up, "I'll be keeping this, 'kay?"

Your brows furrow and you instantly shoot a hand up to take the item from him. Your attempt fails as the man shoots his arm further up, extending it and making the journal out of your reach. A groan leaves you before you push up on your toes and continue to reach for it.

Gojo's smirk returns within seconds as he watches you struggle. The man then draws his arm back and you push yourself forward, nearly grabbing ahold of the journal.

Sadly, instead of grabbing it, your wobbly legs only cause you to fumble right into Gojo's chest and knock the two of you over and onto the floor with a thud.

You both groan in unison as you land on top of him, your face smushed against his chest. Gojo's quiet for a second and the two of you remain still for a long moment. He then snickers quietly and you lift your head and scowl at him.

"Fuck, don't look at me like that sweetheart. You're the one who jumped into me." Gojo teases.

You grit your teeth and push yourself up slightly, propping your upper half up with your arms and leaving your legs spread over his crotch. You spot the book loosely placed in his hand and move to grab it.

Gojo's got a steel grip on the item so as you try to take it out of his grasp, your body leans over him and your chest is right in his face while you try taking the journal from him.

You can hear him chuckling at the way you struggle, "Are you doing this on purpose?" Gojo asks.

You blink and look down at him, noticing the way your breasts are all above his face, "N-No." You hum.

The sudden feeling of his slim hands at your waist makes you flinch, "I mean, I'm not complaining... You should stay like this, actually."

For a moment, you almost let yourself get distracted. With his hands on your waist, you realize the journal is no longer in his grasp so you pick the item up off the floor.

"Idiot." You comment snarkily.

Gojo raises a brow before griping onto you tightly and abruptly flipping the two of you over, his larger body looming over yours. As you find yourself laid out on the floor, you keep the book held within your hand as tightly as you can.

You thought that would help you but with the way Gojo's legs were in between your own and the way his hands fly from your waist to your wrists, you steadily realize you have little to no control.

His fingers curl around your wrists and the man tilts his head at you, "C'mon, sweets, you didn't seriously think I was gonna let you take the journal from me that easily?"

You grimace, "Stop it with the pet name."

Gojo leans down to your face, his lips ghosting your own, "Or what?"

You grit your teeth again and stay quiet. What can you say to that when he's over your body like this? Part of you wanted to scream or spit on the man. You think your hatred for Gojo Satoru was at an alarming all-time high and you could feel your anger boiling in your veins.

Quietly, you look directly into his eyes and whisper back a simple, "I hate you so much."

Gojo pulls his face away slightly, "Do you?"

"I do." You hum, "I don't know how many times I have to say it for you to get it through that thick ass skull of yours but-"

Gojo puts a hand over your mouth and you think your eye twitches. "Nah, I get it... I just don't believe you." He whispers and you watch the way his expression sinks again, his eyes saddened.

And god do you hate the way your heart throbs at his stupidly solemn expression. He steadily takes his hand off your mouth and your wrist, sitting up and still hovering over you. He's quick to take the journal from you as he does so.

You'd yet to give up on getting that book back from him so the moment he sits up, you sit up too and push him right back down-- crawling over him, grabbing both of his arms and crossing them over his head while pinning his wrists down and snatching up the journal in one swift motion.

You now sit comfortably on his crotch, pinning his arms down with all of your strength and holding the journal up and far away from him. "Bitch." You utter to him, semi-playfully.

You do not imagine the throb of his cock beneath you in reaction and you scoff at him.

"Holy fuck," A mocking smirk spreads across your face, "You like that shit?"

"The hell are you talking about?" Gojo snaps back.

"Being degraded." You clarify, "You're into that, aren't you?"

"What? No." Gojo lies.

The way you start laughing at him makes his heart throb. "Gojo, I just felt you."

"Felt me what?" He responds plainly through slightly gritted teeth.

"Twitch, idiot."

"I didn't-"

"Yeah, you did." You cut off, smiling teasingly at the man, "You got turned on by me calling you a bitch."

"N-No, I didn't." He stammers.

"Yes, you did!" You say enthusiastically, chuckling afterward as you truly find it humorous. "Fuck, is that what you wanna be Gojo? Hm?" You tease, leaning down to him slightly and whispering, "Wanna be my little bitch?"

You're not sure what came over you all of a sudden since you weren't interested in sleeping with him or providing him any sort of pleasure but... Something about the situation was just oh so amusing to you.

Again, Gojo's cock twitches beneath you and the male feels the slight stiffening in his length. "Fuck you." He curses.

"You want to so badly, don't you?" You say cooingly. "That's why you're really here, right? You're mad that I've been fucking Suguru and not you."

"Tch. No, I'm not. I don't care how many times you fuck him as long as it doesn't cost me every single time." He hums.

You tilt your head, "Really, so knowing that me and Suguru fuck pretty often doesn't bother you?"

"Do you want it to?" Gojo says in full seriousness, the look in his eyes dark.

"What? No." You reply.

"Okay, then stop telling me about it."

"Or what? You'll get pissed off?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Why?"

"Because I..." The man shuts his mouth and turns his head to the side.

You blink, "Because you what, Gojo?"

"Never mind. Get off me." He diverts.

"Make me."

His eyes shift over to you, "We both know I could if I wanted to. I'm being civil right now so, please get off me."

You glare at him a little longer and he slowly turns his head to you. Gojo's gaze on you is a mix of possessiveness and anger. The man looks at you like you belong to him and yet something's bothering him at the same time. Meanwhile, your look down at him is filled with nothing but pure distaste.

The man utters your name for the first time in a while, his voice low and tone deep. "You're not moving... Why?" He asks.

You swallow, unsure of the reasoning behind your still state.

Gojo raises a brow, "Do you..." He scoffs, "Do you need help standing...?"

A flushed and embarrassed warmth spreads across your face as you look off to the side.

"Awww, Mr. Fushiguro really did a number on ya', didn't he?" Gojo teases.

"You're so annoying."

"I'm aware. But, y'know... you'll have to let my wrists go if you want me to help you up." He says.

You shake your head, "Do you think I'm dumb? As soon as I let your wrists go, you're just gonna take the journal from me."

"I am. But that's only because if you keep it, someone's gonna find out."

"Not everyone is nosy like you, Gojo."

"You'd be surprised." He fires back.

You open your mouth to say something else but the sound of your apartment door opening makes both of you go rigid as if you'd been caught doing something you weren't supposed to.

You look up and Gojo angles his head so that he too can see who just came in. To no surprise, Shoko Ieiri enters the apartment with raised eyebrows at the odd sight of you on top of Gojo pinning his wrists down.

"Oh... that's not..." Shoko chuckles lightly, trailing off as she closes the door behind her and stares at the two of you on the floor.

You and Gojo speak in sync. "It's not what it looks like."

Shoko blinks, "Right... sure it isn't... I mean, if I'm interrupting something, I can just leave and come back another time-"

"N-No," You hum, releasing Gojo's wrists and sitting up properly, still on his crotch. "You're not interrupting anything, I just uh... fell."

Gojo moves his hands to your thighs and squeezes them, "Fell into the perfect position, honestly. Shoko you walked in at a bad time, we were totally about to fu-"

"No, we weren't." You cut off, sending him a quick glare.

Shoko giggles at the banter between you two. "Am I missing something? Are you two dating?"

"No." You answer before Gojo gets the chance to.

She raises a brow at you, "Are you suuure?"

"Positive." You say firmly.

She folds her arms and gives you a skeptical look, "I dunno roomie, when I walked in  it looked like you guys were two seconds away from fucking on the floor-"

"We weren't! I swear." You say assuringly.

"Yeah?" Shoko teases, "Then, why're you still on top of him?"

You freeze. There isn't really a good way for you to explain that a professor fucked your brains out before you came home and then you fell on top of Gojo and now you can't stand without help...

"Uhh.." You trail off.

"She's keepin' my cock warm right now." Gojo blurts out spontaneously.

Shoko scrunches up her face, "Gross, are you two actually-"

"Oh my god! No!" You huff, looking down to Gojo, "I'm gonna hurt you."

He bites his lip, "Are you now?"

"You fucking freak..." You whisper, your words only catching his ears.

Gojo then sits up with you shifting into his lap before his hands go to your waist. "You're lucky Shoko's your roommate." He whispers back to you before helping you stand up.

The two of you soon make your way up off the floor and Gojo makes sure to stand slightly in front of you to hide the way your legs are still shaking slightly. The shake wasn't exactly noticeable unless you started walking but it seems like Gojo still wanted to hide it from Shoko anyway.

"So," Shoko hums, again narrowing her eyes at the two of you. "I let you borrow our spare key for one day and you come in bothering my roommate...?" She says playfully, her words directed toward Gojo.

His eyes widen, "I wasn't bothering her!"

"Bullshit," You murmur.

Gojo scoffs at you in response before directing his words to Shoko again, "Anyways, I was just about to leave."

"Were you?" Shoko asks, clearly unconvinced.

The man in front of you nods his head and then glances behind himself and to you, "Don't miss me too much, sweets." He uttered casually with a wink.

You don't respond to him with anything more than your usual glare. With a dramatic sigh at your lack of a reply, Gojo shrugs and heads toward the front door, passing Shoko and teasingly sticking his tongue out at her.

Shoko chuckles at the man before he leaves and she shuts the door behind him.

With a giddy grin on her face, she does this dramatic slow turn around to look at you. "Soooo, are you gonna tell me what's really going on between the two of you."

You're quick to freeze, having quickly tossed all the cash Gojo left on the counter and your journal into your room before Shoko turned around. Now you stand at your bedroom door, your back to the woman and your eyes widened.

"Nothing's going on between us," You hum, tuning your head back to her.

She visibly doesn't believe you. "Are you suuuure?"

You blink, "Shoko... do you want there to be something between me and Gojo?"

The woman scoffs at your words, "You even talk like him now, holy shit. How long have you guys been fooling around?"

"We're not fooling around at all." You sigh.

She folds her arms, "Y'know, you are a shitty liar, sweets." She comments on purpose, having heard the way Gojo used the pet name toward you.

You swallow, "Please don't start..."

Shoko starts walking toward you slowly, "C'monnnn, how long have you guys been fucking?"

You freeze, "H-Huh? What makes you think we're-"

"It's kinda obvious. Just be honest with me." She says sweetly.

"We... We slept together once, Shoko. One time." You tell her, making sure to be very clear with how many times you've been with Gojo.

A smile spreads across her face, "Aww, really?"

"Yeah, why do you look so happy about this??"

"Cause' that idiot does nothing but gush about you and I'm happy to hear he finally got what he wanted." She says with a sigh as she turns to head toward her room.

"He... He gushes about me?" You question softly, turning your body to follow the direction she's going.

You don't know why you're so intrigued by Gojo gushing about you but your curiosity is oddly high.

"Hm?" Shoko pauses and looks at you, "Oh, yeah, all the time."

It would've been nice to know that before the list... "Why didn't you tell me?" You ask.

"Cause' I refuse to give Gojo the easy way out. If he likes you as much as he claims to, he should be able to talk to you himself." She explains, "Instead, the dumbass said something about being scared of women."

"Seriously?"

"Mhm. Like I said, he's an idiot." She shrugs.

A slow nod of your head is given to her, "Right..." You still don't know why but, your curiosity is eating at you now, "So, wait, does he like like me?"

"Like like, as in, does he have a crush on you?" She asks for clarification.

You nod.

"Nah," Shoko responds simply.

The odd well of anticipation you had sunk instantly, "Oh-"

"I'm pretty sure he's like, in love with you," She suddenly blurts out, looking off to the side in thought. She then chuckles as she recalls something, "Yeah, I think it's way more than a crush."

"You're joking right?" You breathe out.

"Nope!" She says enthusiastically. "If you ask him at the right time, and actually give him a chance, I guarantee you he'll confess."

Okay, you'll give Shoko the benefit of the doubt since she doesn't know what you do. She's not privy to the fact that Gojo's selfishly blackmailing you to fuck a list of people. But even so, you can't help but wonder what makes her come to such a conclusion.

For Gojo to be in love with you, he has the worst way of showing it.

Shoko's words only make you scoff and shake your head, "I'll uh, I'll ask him about it one day."

"Oh my god, so you're gonna give him a chance?!" She asks excitedly.

"Uh, no. there's..." You look off to the side, "Someone else I think I have feelings for."

"Ouu, who is it?" Shoko hums, her brows raising.

"Uh, I'll tell you about him another day..."

She chuckles, "Promise?"

"Pinky." You grin.

Both of your pinkys rise to the air and from a distance you pretend to lock your fingers to seal the little promise you just made. The two of you then dip off into your perspective spaces and you're left with your thoughts.

Gojo in love with you? Please. That's the most ridiculous thing you've heard all week. Why would Shoko say such a thing? Aside from today, this was her first time even seeing the two of you interact with one another...

It's odd to you how she could've come to such a conclusion. Maybe there are things she and Gojo have talked about regarding you before you and Gojo started talking. Maybe there's a lot about the guy you don't actually know...

Fuck, why are you thinking about this anyways? Who cares? His being in love with you obviously isn't going to change the situation he's put you in so there's no point in pondering over it.

Instead, you'll refocus yourself on what's really important; Choso Kamo.

He's the guy you want next. Though, you hope the bubbling feelings in your chest won't get in the way of you trying to have sex with him. And even more, you desperately hope that he doesn't have feelings for you.

At least, not yet.

Feelings will bring nothing but complications into the whole thing and you want to avoid them as much as you can. Only until the list is over. Then, you'll move to pursue a relationship with Choso.

Yeah, that sounds like the plan.

What could go wrong?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ❤︎ | yandere!xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

art by @/syaden8 on twt!!

⟢ cw: a failed escape attempt from them... yandere, dark themes, petnames, mutilation (xiao, scara), violence, drugging (scara) etc. please proceed with caution! thank you.

⟢ "your order's denial is causing me trial !"

"Ah."

XIAO's lips moved, and it was that single noise that escaped.

For your room lay barren, empty, cold, the harsh winter breeze drafting through the shattered window, the bars covering it having been forcibly bent aside. "It..." For a moment, his body swayed, his own legs unable to support his weight. Then, his balance stabilized, his once by a fraction wider eyes having narrowed. "It seems my songbird has escaped."

Unacceptable. The word repeated in his head, like a mantra, a prayer, resounding within his ears, despite the silence, despite the cold that bit at his skin as he trudged through the snow, his spear at his side. A tiny, devilish voice that tugged on his ears and whispered out tales of his sin.

"Found you."

"N-No- please-" His gaze sharpened in annoyance. Desperate, your voice hoarse and cracking by the syllable, hurling yourself forward one more step, just one more, your bloody, bare feet scraped and bruised. This wasn't right, how come you seemed so distressed?

No, you of course sounded better as his songbird, in a pristine little cage, singing for him, and only him, happy tunes of joy and pleasure.

"...And as a songbird can live with its wings clipped, surely you'll understand if I...?"

The shackles locked tight around your wrists, and your useless, wretched legs, bones shattered by a single blow.

It's an unfortunate predicament, but it's the only way. ❤︎

"Oh, so the chase is on?"

CHILDE shouldn't be laughing, but oh, he was.

It's a twisted sound, with the corners of his mouth distorted upwards in a haphazard smile, his eyes blown as a dark flush of red descended upon his cheeks. "So you've decided to play this little game of cat and mouse. Very well, if that's what you want, darling!"

You aren't making this difficult enough. His keen gaze spots all the traces you've left behind, broken branches, ruffled leaves, a torn piece of the clothing he had gifted you... it's all imbued with your essence, honey sweet on his lips.

Why would you even want to leave him?

It's that thought that makes him pause upon finding you, your trembling form sprawled across the bloodied snow as he stands over you, his own shadow casting you in darkness.

That's right, why would you? He's been nothing but loving. He's catered to your every need, has he not? He's bought this house for you, all the clothes you wear, the food you eat, the bed you sleep in... what right did you have to defy his affections, now that he had made them ever so clear?

If anything, it was insulting.

Oh, but did he truly feel insulted? After all, an offended person wouldn't have taken you like that, wouldn't have knocked you unconscious and wouldn't have carried the delicate you in his arms back to home.

Maybe a better description would be "longing." Longing for your praise, longing for your thanks, longing for the smiles you'd send his way... how come your eyes have faded, since then? It's strange, he's never seen you look so... determined before, not since today.

Ah, but what did it matter?

This puny escape attempt of yours... his tongue tasted bitter.

It wouldn't happen again. He'd make sure of it, so please, don't mind the chains, would you? ❤︎

"They... dare?"

SCARAMOUCHE's expression contorts to one of rage, his brows sharply angled downwards and his violet eyes wide, quivering.

Haha... what a fool he was. He should've been more attentive, how had he not noticed your strange movements? The way you gave him a forced smile everytime he returned home, the way you'd greet him at the door with the dinner you made, and he had finally thought you had accepted his confession all those weeks ago, he finally thought you had gotten used to and started liking your life here, finally thought-

And then he thought nothing at all as his body swayed and fell to the ground. The audacity, to go and dig through his things, to go, find, and use the very drug he had used to bring you home.

By the time he awoke, the house was but a cold expanse, barren of your warmth, and he clenched his fists so tightly, his nails kissed red crescents into his skin that weeped with every flex of his fingers.

"To pull such a parlor trick against me like this... ah, doll. Don't think you'll get away with this leniently."

When he found you, not "if", he'll make sure to reprimand you properly. If breaking your spirit wasn't enough, then he'd have to break your mind too. He's already decided that he'll reshape the pure thing with his own, dirtied hands, into something that will burn only for him.

Surely, a couple missing limbs, here and there, wouldn't obstruct that light, would it now? ❤︎

(a/n) as i said on my sideblog, something about writing for toxic mentally distressed emotionally broken and heavily reliant yandere characters who turn to violence to show their love is. just so. oddly... comforting?? was going to make this longer and then some shitty shit shit went down so. yay. tears.

if you enjoyed please consider following me or leaving a note on this post!! they are very appreciated, and i am very close to hitting a follower goal that i want to reach before the new years ! thank you.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[highdefhoetry]

the strawhat pirates when they realize they love you.

summary: gender neutral reader. something wholesome for a change. this can be interpreted as platonic, romantic, or whatever other kind of relationship you want!

luffy knows you’re going to be one of his best friends as soon as he meets you. the two of you hit it off right away, spending almost every waking minute together laughing, eating, or doing some stupid shit like pulling rubber stunts on the deck after seeing who could chug the most juice. he wins at almost every game you play, but he never makes you feel like a sore loser. when you’re not around, he’s bored out of his mind waiting for you to get back. and when you’re together again, all hell breaks loose. the two of you get into a lot of trouble, but it’s worth getting a scolding from the rest of the crew. being with him is just so fun! 

usopp realizes what’s going on while he’s building a trinket for you. he stares at the empty space beside him at his work desk, suddenly missing your presence and feeling the weight of your absence. he got so used to you barging into his workshop, asking about every little piece and part strewn about and how everything fits together, that now it feels almost empty without you. you're the only one that shows an interest in his engineering. you're the only one that listens to his tall tales and actually believes in him. you're the only one that looks up to him as a hero. and when he does realize why he's got this fluttery feeling in his chest, all he can do is smile. he’ll make sure to build you the best weapon a warrior can wield!

it takes time for zoro to make sense of his feelings. he’s not a mushy guy, and he’s good at keeping his emotions in check. but that changes when you come along. he’s always been a loner, preferring time away from others to focus on training and growing even stronger, so it was difficult for him to adjust when you suddenly started hanging around him. but in time, he realizes that he doesn’t mind your company. he’s not much of a talker, but he finds himself blabbering on and on when you ask him about swordsmanship and combat. it’s the only chance he gets to talk about his life’s work. he even offers to train you, if you’re willing to go through his bootcamp of hell. that’s when it hits him; you’re something special. no one else gets to be this close to him. no one else gets him talking like this. no one else makes his heart soar, except for you.

sanji knows he loves you as soon as he starts memorizing all your favorite dishes. after his initial infatuation with you wears off, something deeper takes its place. a rich, decadent feeling of care that tastes oh so sweet. he hates when people come in the kitchen while he’s cooking and always kicks them out no matter who they are, but for some reason he can’t say no when he sees your face pop in. his heart melts when you offer to help him prep, and he swoons when he watches you chop vegetables or stir the simmering sauce for him on the stovetop. he doesn’t mind if the ingredients are misshapen, or if the minced veggies aren’t exactly minced. the food you make together always tastes amazing.

nami knows you’ve got her wrapped around your finger when you ask her for money and she doesn't say no. she always keeps a tight fist when it comes to finances, but for some reason she just doesn't have the heart to refuse. she’ll still make a fuss and complain; she worked hard to steal that cash, damn it! why would she just hand it over?! but one look into those eyes of yours and she’s done for. she’ll grumble about a 300% interest rate as you grab the cash from her hand, but she’ll forget all about it when you come back with that new thing you’d been eyeing in town for weeks. she’ll sigh, ask you to show it to her, and decide to waive the fees for now when she sees that wide smile on your face. seeing you happy is priceless.

robin knows she’s got it bad when she finds herself smiling for no reason every time you come around. you show great interest in her archeology studies, listening intently as she rambles about ancient polyglyphs and civilizations lost to time. with you, she feels like she can finally pass down her extensive knowledge to someone who is just as passionate about history as she is. the two of you often sit together in comfortable silence reading books about bones and artifacts, and while your face is buried between the pages, she’ll glance over and watch you with a small smile. her heart warms when she sees the focus and passion on your face. finally, she has a friend that will never leave her side.