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mydearlybeloathed · 3 months

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𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 ²

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: as promised, zoro finally returned to you... after three years at sea. there's much left to be said, but a rogue butler just might get in the way.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!zoro x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, canon typical violence, fluff with a hint of angst

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: everytime you leave

series masterlist

Nami’s little ship taking on water was the least ideal occurrence possible. Yet, deep inside, Zoro found it incredibly funny to watch the orange haired girl scramble around all frustrated like this.

“Gecko Island,” said Nami, drawing Zoro out of his thoughts. She was hunched over her map with Luffy over her shoulder, per usual. “I think we’ll be able to make it before the ship sinks.”

Those words took longer to process than they should’ve, but Zoro couldn’t help it. Gecko Island? How long had it been, three years maybe? No longer than that, he was sure. His eyes went unfocused at the memory of a laugh that could easily end him and bring him back to life all at once.

“Swear it.”

“I, Roronoa Zoro, swear that we will sail again.”

Nami nodded to herself, saying, “Syrup Village is known for its ships. I say we dock there and ditch this junk.”

He couldn’t believe that luck. Zoro’s lips threatened to quirk into a grin before he got a hold of himself. He rested his hand on his swords and snuffed. “I’ve got a friend in Syrup Village who could help us.”

Nami took off her readers and rolled up her map. “You have friends?”

He shot her a tight smirk. “Just one.”

“And he can help us?” asked Luffy as he took to the ship’s helm.

“She might.” Zoro checked on a knot here and a rope there. With his back to his temporary crew, he let out a small smile. “If she’s happy to see me.”

A surprised grin took Nami's face. “And if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” he assured, only half certain, if he was being honest.

It'd been three years since his promise, after all. Whatever happened next, Zoro could only be certain of one thing: oh, how he missed you.

જ⁀➴

Zoro was sweating, and it had nothing to do with the heat.

With every inch they grew closer to Syrup Village the swordsman swore he could hear your last words to him, a taunting sort of echo reflected by the sea. He’d always heard that water holds memories, and now it holds memories of you.

For better or worse, for reasons he just couldn’t fathom, you loved him. The very thought had his heart stuttering, his lips threatening to curve into a smile. Hopefully, time hadn’t changed your heart. It certainly hadn’t changed his.

He stood leaning on the mast, arms crossed to limit the fidget of his fingers. Unfortunately, this left him out in the open, a prime target for Nami’s incessant teasing.

She slinked up beside him, curiosity already planted on her face. “So,” Nami drawled, not even trying to hide her shit-eating grin. “She?”

“Go. Away.” Zoro shifted away from her, tensing when Nami simply ducked forward, her short orange hair falling in her face.

She only laughed. “Oh, someone’s defensive.”

Zoro didn’t satisfy her with a response this time, yet she wasn’t thwarted, bumping his shoulder with a chuckle. “Relax. I’m sure your friend will be happy to see you.”

A beat of silence passed before he found himself offering up his worry. “I haven't written to her in a month.”

Nami scoffed. “Will she care when she sees you?”

Probably not, was his first thought, but then again, what if you had changed? What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you’d grown bitter?

“Hey.” Nami snapped in his face. “Get out of your head, all right?”

He looked at her then, and he wondered why she cared. They weren’t friends, or at least, he didn’t think they were friends. But the way the two of them locked eyes and he nodded and then she nodded—he wondered if he even knew what friendship felt like after all this time.

It felt like you, of course, but you were something entirely different. Entirely more.

So he pushed off the mast and walked to the rail of the ship, sucked in a breath, let it out slowly, and got out of his own head.

જ⁀➴

You were terribly hungover, and Vee was having a ball over it.

Your every groan prompted just one more I told you so. Because she had, after all, told you so. You didn’t remember much from the night before, just that you were sad and the bartender liked you enough to forget about a cut off.

But feeling like shit never got you out of work before, and it certainly didn’t today.

So you did your usual chores, albeit at a slower pace, crushing coriander and sorting it into jars at the corner table of Vee’s office. Vee herself stood behind one of the village’s elderly hypochondriacs, Miss Irma, who sat upon the examination table.

You and Vee had made quite the team over the years. While your knowledge solely pertained to the more natural medicines, Vee had gone to academy to become a real doctor, studying new technology and practices. Her fancy framed documents were testament to her achievements.

She taught you nearly everything she knew, and you showed her a few tricks too, and as a result Syrup Village developed a phenomenal one stop cure all shop. Your various tinctures and potions came in handy nearly everyday—today especially as you downed a hangover tonic seconds after waking up.

You pursed your lips, grinding up the coriander as your temples panged with the consequences of your actions. Last night the alcohol had done wonders to make you stop thinking, but today was a different story.

“Next week’ll be three years,” you said to Vee, not caring as Irma perked up at the potential gossip. Ever since you had declared your love to a ship retreating from the docks, the locals had been dying to figure you out. You never let them, finding great amusement in being the town mystery.

Vee glanced up from taking Irma’s blood pressure, sensing an approaching vent. “So that’s why you’re so worked up?”

“That,” you confirmed, pouring the fine powder into an empty jar. “And he hasn’t written in a while.”

It was silly to worry about him. He could handle himself just fine. He was probably just busy. Yet, you had to admit, his letters were normally like clockwork. He had never missed a monthly letter, not once in three years.

Vee suddenly stood beside you, taking your hands that you hadn’t realized were shaking. The older woman caught your eyes and offered a smile. “He’s a capable young man. He’ll be okay.”

You sighed, the sound quaking. “I know.”

She squeezed your hands and turned to remove the blood pressure cuff from a carefully listening Irma. “Take the supplies list from the counter and head to the market, yeah?”

“But—”

“Nope.” She was pushing you by your shoulders now, leaving a less than pleased Irma behind. Vee walked you through the hall, the kitchen, and right to the front door.

“Vee—Stop pushin’ me!” You planted two hands on either side of the doorframe, halting your exit. Puffing, you begrudgingly relented. “You never gave me the list.”

A triumphant smile adorned her face as she swept back to the kitchen and returned with your shopping list. You snatched it from her fist and left her with a feigned smile, not liking how she chuckled as the door clicked shut behind you.

You huffed, fondly remarked “Bitch,” and headed down the cobblestone street with a brief glance down at the sheet of paper. Chamomile. Turmeric. Peppermint. Calendula.

You hummed. That last one might be hard to come by in the market, but surely one of the local merchants could find it for you. Turning the corner to head through the square, you caught sight of a familiar little man hurrying through the square. You swiftly pocketed your list and chased after him. “Joli! Hey, Joli!”

The mailman startled and whirled around, relaxing upon finding you rushing toward him. He didn’t bother with pleasantries; this had been going on for days, and the usual reply was on his lips before you could even get the question out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, lips pursed in an apologetic smile. “No letters have come for you… Maybe your friend has just forgotten?”

“No. It’s something else.” Why did everyone assume he’d forgotten? It wasn’t like him to forget. You worried your lip between your teeth. “He always writes. Every month, without fail. Something’s gotta be wrong.”

“You could always write to him first?” Joli offered.

“I would if I knew where the hell he is.” It wasn’t easy being penpals with the Demon Pirate Hunter, given he was never in one place for very long.

But he hadn’t written in over a month. Surely, he couldn’t have forgotten you. He wouldn’t have forgotten you. Even with the sea dividing you, the pair of you were intertwined. Three years and no letter wasn’t going to change that.

“Sorry, Joli,” you said, realizing you’d zoned out. “Thanks anyway.”

He swept a brief bow and hurried off to continue his day, leaving you alone in the bustling town square.

Time had gone by very slowly, and although Syrup Village was charming, you couldn’t help but feel drowned by the mundanity of it all. Syrup Village, to put it simply, was boring.

But mostly, Syrup Village just didn’t have Zoro.

He was off on the East Blue, God knows where exactly, and the worry was eating you away.

Shaking your head as if it could dispel your thoughts, you quickly shifted to hurry toward the market. It was a long line of stands and booths running up and down the eastern part of the city. Directly behind it was a fine view of the shipyard, with its impressive ships large and small. And then to the left of the yard was the port, busy with the weekly imports.

The evening started to waste away as you went from tent to tent, offering smiles and beri in exchange for ingredients. Only after you’d asked the local flower merchant to place an order for calendula did you turn to look at the sky. Perhaps it’d been long enough for Vee to let you back inside. You’d already gathered everything on her list, after all.

But first, maybe you’d bring home something sweet. Food always put Vee in a good mood.

“Thanks, Luc,” you said to the young baker, taking the cloth wrapped loaf of lemon bread from him. “Tell your mom I said hello.”

“Sure thing.” You waved him goodbye and walked into the crowds, pinching off a piece of bread and popping it in your mouth. The billowing sails of the ships caught your eye and drew you closer.

The port reminded you of Zoro. Well, to be fair, many things reminded you of Zoro. Even lemon bread made you think of his sour expressions if you let the taste linger too long. But there was something about the salty breeze and the cursing sailors that threw you back three years time.

If you closed your eyes you could practically see it—you and Zoro stood at the railing of a shipping barge, one of his hands on his swords and the other caging you between the ship and him, only to protect you from the many suspicious sailors, of course. Not at all because he enjoyed the proximity.

Someone bumped your shoulder and barked an insult, and you realized you’d literally closed your eyes. Oops.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and ducked your head, stuffing the lemon bread in your satchel.

You stopped in the shade cast by one ship’s sail, well out of the way. How many pirates stood in your midst? It was a question you tried not to think about, but you wagered a fourth of the crowd, maybe, but no more than that. Usopp scared most of them away with his clockwork alarms.

Maybe you could find your friend before you headed back. Usopp’s stories were farfetched, but never dull in color.

You had taken a single step when the crowd of hurrying sailors and passengers grew thin, and your gaze was drawn like a magnet to a shock of green hair. You seized up, tense muscles locking you in place.

You blinked, forgot how to breathe, and blinked again. Certainly you had to be tricking yourself. Plenty of fools have green hair.

As you forced an inhale the figure came into focus, one of his hands rested on a white sword you would recognize in the thickest of fog.

You huffed, disbelieving. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be real. Parched lips parting, you noted that you hadn't had much to drink that day and the sun was rather hot… but you surely weren’t dehydrated enough to hallucinate.

That wasn’t any green haired fool. That was your green haired fool, in the flesh, like an answer to a desperate prayer. He came back.

You might’ve stood there all day had Zoro not felt your stare like a hot brand on his cheek.

His heart was already hammering in his chest, skin prickling with the need to just shout your name till someone told him where to find you. But… his shoulders tensed, not from the anxiety, but from wariness. His brow pinched and he gazed around to find whoever was watching him.

Bit by bit, his gaze roamed over sailors big and small, crates and barrels, until it settled on you amidst the passersby.

He’d tried preparing for this moment. None of it was useful now as he met your eyes in an everlasting moment. How had he ever left?

Zoro’s hand slipped from his sword as he started toward you, each step far too long and slow for his liking. It felt like walking through water to get you, like there was sand in his shoes weighing him to the ground.

Luckily, you were impatient.

You took off, feet pounding against the wood of the docks, shoulder checking at least five people and knocking one person to the ground. You were heaving even as a wide smile took your face.

Zoro gasped the instant before you barreled into him, your arms flung around his neck as his own embraced you tightly. He stumbled and let out a glorious little laugh for only you to hear. The sound alone made three years of aching boil down to one desperate need to never let him go.

Pulling back, you found his eyes, and the little grin on his face was the very last straw.

Like a starved woman, you surged forward and cupped the sides of his face to drag him down to meet your lips. Soft and timeless, you sought to engrave the feel of his lips on yours, and yours to his. So just in case he’d ever dreamed of kissing another woman, he never would again.

Your hungry affection only made his infatuation worse; for three long years, Zoro only ever dreamed of you.

Zoro broke the kiss, drawing back and watching as you followed him, dazed like you could hardly believe it. A strand of hair was stuck to your forehead, damp with sweat, and he absently swiped it away. All he wanted to do was admire you, holding you close and breathing you in.

“Hi.” It was the only thing he could bring himself to say.

Your fingernails dug into the skin of his arms, a half smile flickering onto your face. You swallowed thickly, hardly believing this was real. “When you didn’t write, I…”

Zoro suddenly remembered who he’d come here with and hoped with everything in him they weren’t standing right behind him like they had been before. “I got caught up.”

“Too caught up to let me know you’re alive?” You could’ve been teasing, but he knew better. He saw it in how your eyes searched his face; he’d scared you.

His eyes went a special kind of soft only one person had ever seen in Roronoa Zoro, and he cupped your face gently. A grin tugged at his lips. “Like anyone could kill me.”

Your own lips twitched upwards as you leaned into his touch. Zoro wet his lips and glanced at the ground. His throat was suddenly dry as sand. “Uhm… I’m… uh…”

“Who’s your friend?” Nami. Voice filled with mirth, he could picture that shit eating smirk on her face before he ever turned around.

He reluctantly peeled away from you, clearing his throat and stepping to the side (He never strayed from your side, his hand finding solace in fidgeting with the frayed end of your shirt). Now came a moment he’d been dreading: the introductions.

You assessed the pair of people standing, and you didn’t know how to feel that they’d probably witnessed the entire display of affection, beginning to end. The entire shipyard did as well, a part of you reasoned, so you brushed it off.

It was a boy and girl, the former wearing a cool straw hat and the latter with even cooler hair the color of tangerines. The girl, who you assumed was the one who’d spoken, wore a thick grin, arms crossed as she leaned into her hip. The boy, however, was glancing between you and Zoro with a puzzled sort of smile.

Zoro’s fingers brushed your hip; he was radiating nerves. “Y/N, this is Luffy and Nami.”

Luffy had eyes so lively you had to offer up a smile, as though your body felt no choice but to mirror just a bit of his obvious enthusiasm.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, and you felt he really meant it. Luffy tilted his head. “How do you know Zoro?”

“We… go back,” you said, casting Zoro a glance to find his usual deadpan back in place—God, how you’d missed that frown.

A thought provoked you. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been happier, but what the hell are you doin’ here? I thought you’d be—I dunno—on the edge of nowhere sharing a beer with a bagged corpse or something.”

You zeroed in on Nami then, immediately having her beauty carved into your memory. Something oddly possessive welled in your gut before you quickly shut it down. Still, you inched closer to Zoro.

“That’s what we’re here to see you about,” said Zoro, and something about it struck a worry in you. The way your eyes met his must’ve betrayed everything, for his hand moved to grasp your own, speaking a million silent little things.

Sensing a story, you guided them to the closest tavern, finding a nice spot in a low lit booth. Luffy rushed to slide into the booth, followed by Nami. Zoro reached the opposite side of the booth, but took a step back to let you slide in first.

Pausing to blink up at him, he worried, “You still like sitting on the inside?”

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you nodded, wasting no time in jumping into the booth and tugging him to sit flush against your side.

In grand detail and elaborate hand motions, Luffy explained their mission: they had a map of the Grand Line, and when they got there, they would find the One Piece, and Luffy would become King of the Pirates.

To say you were at a loss was the understatement of the century. Jaw slack, you looked from Zoro to Nami to Luffy to Zoro, then the whole cycle over again. Finally, you settled for shifting to face Zoro entirely, a slow smirk forming on your lips. “But… Pirates?”

Just some years ago you’d been helping this man put pirates behind bars, you’d taken part in a few murders as well, and now he was trying to tell you he was one of them? You couldn’t help it; you laughed, your hand moving to take his underneath the table.

Zoro choked on nothing as your thumb ran circles on the back of his hand, but he composed himself enough to shrug. “Surprise.”

“You never cease to amaze me.” Almost doe eyed, you gazed all over his sheepish expression, adoration plain on your face. “I bet you’re a shit pirate.”

Nami burst into a laughing fit, eyes alight. He tried to glare, but it failed immediately, everything in him softening the moment he caught your smile.

“He’s great,” Luffy disagreed, grinning back at you. “And he’ll be even better once he’s the world’s—”

“Greatest swordsman,” you finished. Your smile was fond and warm. “I know. You never actually said why you came to Syrup Village, by the way. Not that the tale of your victory over Boogie the Clown wasn’t thrilling.”

Luffy leaned forward. “We need a ship,” he told you. “One worthy of our crew. A home.”

“Well,” you said, “if you see one you like, I know someone who can help you buy it. He knows the Shipyard owner.”

If possible, Luffy’s smile grew. “I’ve got my eyes on one already. The one with the goat figurehead! That’s our ship.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to keep the disbelief out of your voice. You knew the ship he spoke of, and it would be a pricey one, that’s for sure. Instead of lying to Luffy’s face, you chose to focus your attention back on Zoro, whose eyes had never left your face.

“Come on.” You tapped Zoro’s thigh to urge him out of the booth, grinning at how he went pink in the ears as he slid out. “My friend’ll work something out.”

You took the lead out of the tavern and to the Shipyard, eyes scouring the sailors for your friend as Nami and Luffy fell behind, almost of one mind as they sidled up to their solemn companion, caging him between them. Zoro’s gaze remained glued to your back, not willing to cast them even a glance.

Luffy bumped his shoulder. “I think your friend was pretty happy to see you after all.” The tease in his voice was evident.

Zoro somehow kept from snarling when he snapped back, “I said she would be.”

“Never,” Nami chuckled, “would I have ever guessed you have a girlfriend.”

“She’s not…” Zoro watched you longingly—he watched the way you waved kindly to people as you passed, how your very essence gave life to your surroundings—and he sighed. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Rolling her eyes, Nami kept her voice low. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that how you greet all your friends?”

He didn’t answer, allowing their soft laughter to eat up his silence.

The truth of it was that this had gone better than Zoro had ever expected. His entire body still felt the burn of you against him, your lips on his—he stopped that thought where it stood, feeling that old flush creeping back up his neck.

He had to talk to you—alone. He had to say so many things that he wasn’t exactly sure where to start. An apology. That’s where he’d go from.

Unbeknownst to the whispers behind you, you were approaching the ship of Luffy’s affections, which you thought you remembered Usopp being on rotation for.

You cupped your hands around your mouth and called out, “Usopp! Hey, Usopp!”

A moment later a grinning face popped up from behind the deck of the ship, sweat beaded on his brow as he threw his rag over his shoulder and leaned over to see her better. “Y/N!” He scanned the lot of them. “And company?”

The three following you finally caught up, the swordsman taking his place by your side. You shot him a little grin and tugged on his sleeve to draw him closer to you. “Usopp! I’ve got some friends wantin’ to talk to Kaya ‘bout a ship!”

Zoro turned his head toward you with his eyes still on Usopp as the boy scrambled down to meet them. “Kaya?”

“The friend of a friend. Hella rich and owns the Yard,” you muttered back. He nodded, not minding one bit when you linked your index finger with his.

As he watched you as though you’d hung the very stars in the sky whilst you explained the situation to Usopp, he knew the second thing he’d say. He would work up the nerve to say what he couldn't three years ago.

જ⁀➴

The house—no, the mansion ahead was more extravagant than Zoro had seen in some time. He’d been close to your side the whole walk with Usopp, close enough so you could hear every one of his gripes about their guide’s questionable credibility. You giggled and bumped his shoulder every time, so he kept it up.

“He’s… imaginative,” you defended, chewing your lip. “Relax. Kaya’ll let you buy the ship for sure. No thievery even necessary.”

He quirked a brow, amusement playing on his face. “How’d you…”

“Nami’s been swipin’ stuff off vendor carts.” You shrugged. “I figure stealing a ship is her first thought.”

Zoro couldn’t help but grin down at you, and when you met his eyes—oh, how deep his eyes were—you lost all sense of gravity. You nearly tripped over a rock before Zoro caught your arm and steadied you, chuckling at your expense.

“Careful,” he teased, worsening the red in your cheeks. You stuck out your tongue in defense.

It was difficult for Zoro to stop looking at you, even as Kaya hobbled out of her home on the arm of her butler. If possible, you were even more beautiful than the last time he saw you.

He tried not to be too miffed when you fled from his side to greet Kaya in a happy birthday embrace, especially when you offered Klahadore a curt nod and rushed back to hook your arm through his. Zoro glanced at you, then at the butler, and had the sense he’d seen the proper looking man before. He just couldn't place where from.

The turn of events was less than pleasing. Now, Zoro had to sit through a fancy dinner with too many people around, and probably not a chance to whisk you away from the prying eyes of his newfound crew.

The dirty lot of you were ordered to clean up and only then shoved into Kaya’s expansive dressing room to find suitable clothes for dinner. Zoro walked into the dressing room in a soft black robe, feeling one hundred percent clean for the first time in a while.

Instantly, his gaze gravitated to you examining the rows and rows of clothing, a number of dresses draped on your arm. Nami was moving quickly through the racks, every once in a while resting a dress she’d found on your shoulder and muttering something Zoro couldn’t catch. To both Zoro’s amusement and annoyance, you and Nami seemed to have hit it off instantly.

He didn’t want to bother you, not when you looked to be having fun, so he took the first black thing he found and sat down on a chair near the corner. Zoro almost wanted to take a nap the second he sat down; even Kaya’s chairs felt expensive.

You dodged yet another dress from Nami, giggling, and caught sight of Zoro, appearing pleasantly surprised.

“Zoro!” Your smile was blinding. You swiftly passed a hand over the many clothes in your arms and grabbed what must’ve been your two favorites, dropping the rest in a lazy pile beside you. “I kinda feel bad not telling Vee where I am. She probably thinks I’m drunk in a barrel again.”

You disappeared behind a folding room divider, laughing under your breath. The two dresses were thrown to drape over the divider, and soon your clothes joined them. Zoro tried not to picture it too much, especially when he caught Nami staring at him with a mischievous grin.

He ignored her and rubbed at his eyes, exhaustion never too far away. Zoro remembered the doctor he’d left you with. She had seemed nice enough at the time, so it was good to know she hadn’t murdered you in the night, or something like that. “Vee’ll be fine.”

Nami headed for the door, her chosen dress in hand and a toothy grin on her face as she nodded exaggeratedly toward the divider you stood behind. Now, Zoro might have rolled his eyes, and he might have flipped her off, but only because he’d drink acid before telling Nami he was grateful.

“Ay, Nami?” you called. “Can you help me with this?”

He was grateful till just then, as his gaze locked on the divider and his heart picked up a considerable pace. Your shadow danced on the wall behind the divider, and Zoro forgot how to speak. All he could do was think many thoughts he’d put off for a very long time.

Three years had given him a lot of time to think—he thought a lot about you, and his regrets, and how he wished it were easier for him to just tear out his heart and stitch it to his sleeve. You certainly made it look easy.

But it wasn't, and Zoro couldn’t change that anytime soon. He wasn’t too worried about it, though. You had this uncanny way of knowing exactly what he was trying to say, even when he said it all wrong.

“Nami?”

“Nami’s gone,” he said, voice near cracking. He grimaced and stood from his chair. “Can I help?”

There wasn’t so much as a hesitation before you answered, “Mhmm. Come ‘ere.”

His feet moved before he ever told them to. Zoro still wasn’t entirely sure if he enjoyed this chokehold you had on him... but then he was rounding the divider warily, finding you standing with your back to him, squirming around as you tried to reach the zipper of your dress, and he took it back. He’d follow you to the ends of the earth and then some, probably.

Lips twitching upward, he stepped up behind you, his hands ghosting your skin as if he wasn’t sure what to do. His eyes raked up your back, and he froze. A thin white scar ran across your skin.

You peered up into the mirror in front of you, simultaneously locking eyes with the green-haired man. He didn’t look like he was breathing, almost afraid to touch you, it seemed. “Zoro?”

He hummed distantly. You grew concerned at the cloudiness in his eyes, and then his fingers ghosted your skin, tracing a line you’d memorized and yet somehow forgotten. Oh.

You spun around and sighed as he took a considerate step back. You tried to speak, but nothing came to mind. How could you have forgotten your scar? How could you have just let him see it? You frantically fumbled to pull the zipper up yourself, stammering, “Zoro, I, uhm…”

His jaw set all of a sudden, and he met your gaze head on. “I’m… sorry. That I left.”

You did not want to have that conversation. Not right now. You could save it for later, after the nice dinner, after you relished in ignoring the elephant standing in the corner. Because as much as you shoved it all down, Zoro had left you there, and it’d taken him three years to come back, as promised.

But he came back, you reminded yourself. A little devil in your mind piped in, not for you though.

You cleared your throat and folded your arms over your chest. “I understand why.”

“But I regret it. Everyday.” Zoro raked a hand through his hair. “Everyday I wanted to come back.”

It looked like he’d been bottling all that up, and you wondered if the words had been on the tip of his tongue from the moment he laid eyes on you. “Why didn’t you?”

“I… I didn't know if…”

“If…”

Zoro looked anywhere but you, wetting his lips. If your life was better without me. “If you liked it here.”

You really, truly couldn’t help it; you laughed. You laughed and laughed till your sides ached and you teetered to the side before Zoro’s hands settled on your shoulders to steady you. “Don’t laugh! I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Slowly, the smile slipped from your face as you reached for his hand and cupped it in both of yours. “Zoro, everyday for three years I waited for you, because you made me a promise… But I need to know… Would you have come back if it wasn’t convenient? I mean, did you really plan on it anytime soon?”

He tried to pull away and you nearly thought of letting him, before you laced your fingers with his and refused to let him go. Cold worry flooded your gut. “I’m sorry, that’s not fair—”

“It’s fair,” he cut you off. Zoro looked down at your interlocked hands. “I told you I’d come back. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Still, he hadn’t answered the question, and you needed to know. “So, would you have?”

Zoro didn’t answer right away, practically giving you heart palpitations as he took his sweet time. “I want you to be there, when I defeat him.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his face drawn close to yours, eyes hung. “Hawkeye Mihawk is harder to find than I thought. Time kept slipping by and… I don’t know. I got…”

Scared, but he didn’t want to say that. Fortunately, you read between the lines, squeezing his hand. He sighed, eyes shut as his head drifted to rest against yours. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, raising your hand to ruffle the hair at the nape of his neck. “I probably would have waited till then, to be perfectly honest.” Your cheeks warmed, gaze lowering. You raised a brow at the robe tied around him, breaking you out of the moment. “This what you’re wearin’ to dinner?”

There was a tease in your voice that had Zoro rolling his eyes as he slipped his hand back into yours and tugged you out from behind the divider. He dropped your hand only to pick up the suit jacket and hold it out to you for you to inspect.

Brows still vaulted, you looked up through your lashes, smirking. “Hon’, you can’t just wear a jacket.”

He blinked, giving a bashful scoff. “I know that.”

He was too busy not being embarrassed to notice when you shook your head and skipped past him, planting a kiss on his cheek as you passed.

“Hmm.” You skimmed through some of the clothes, finding a dress shirt that stood out to you. “Here. Try this.”

You took a hanger and held it up for him to see. Zoro wrinkled his nose. “It’s pink.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved the shirt into his hands and moved to find some pants. “I like pink. You like me. Therefore, you like pink.”

Zoro doubted that logic, but you were practically an angel in disguise with the way you glided back over to him and handed over a pair of black dress pants. Your smile was a dangerous thing, because the more he looked at it the more you made a whole lot of sense.

“Fine,” he murmured, disappearing behind the divider and emerging a few moments later, decked out in clothes nicer than he felt he deserved.

You turned, about to say something when you laid eyes on him and faltered. Your eyes reflected a longing affection that had Zoro flustered in an instant, clearing his throat and cracking his neck in the silence. The fond grin on your face threatened to have him crumbling at your feet.

“Something on my face?”

A beautiful laugh bubbled from your chest, a happy warmth in your cheeks as you smoothed down the fabric of his jacket, resting your palms on his chest. The topmost buttons of the pink dress shirt were yet to be fastened, and you moved to finish it up all while that lovely smile graced your lips.

You were halfway done with the last button when Zoro’s hand cradled the back of your head, angling you to look at him again. Breath hitched, the words begged to be set free. Always on the tip of his tongue. “I…”

And for once, you were patient, more patient than he ever deserved. Zoro felt panic well up in his lungs, deep in his heart, and he abandoned the attempt altogether, surging forward to catch your lips against his. You had no complaints, sighing as your fingertips tickled the skin of his neck.

“Guys!”

“No, Luffy, stop!”

The swift footfalls of Luffy followed his shout. You snapped away from Zoro, the both of you taking a swift step back.

Your foot caught the pile of dresses you’d left, a yelp fleeing your lips as you fell flat on your back into the clothes. Zoro took one look at you and coughed, literally choking on a sudden laugh.

Luffy rushed into the room, stopping at the door. Nami stumbled after him with a glare and hissed, “Luffy!”

He cast her an odd look. “What?” Not paying Nami any more mind, Luffy grinned and said, “Come on, I can smell dinner.”

You let out a huff as Zoro grinned down at you, holding out a hand to pull you up. Hobbling on your feet, you patted Zoro’s arm and swept past him, approaching Nami with a smile.

“Oh, you look lovely,” you awed, admiring her fixed hair and light make up.

Nami raised her shoulders to meet her ears, saying, “I try.”

Following her down the hall, Zoro was left with Luffy, who said suddenly, “Why was she on the floor?”

Somehow refraining from rolling his eyes, Zoro simply left it at that, trudging after you and Nami.

જ⁀➴

Things had gone south very, very quickly. You hadn’t been so exhilarated in years.

The dinner was exquisite, but that was where the good things ended. Your late night search for water was cut short by the sound of voices from the entry hall.

Rushing to the edge of the banister, you found Kaya’s housekeepers dragging Luffy outside and handed over to the marines, the butler standing there void of any expression. That, paired with the sudden disappearance of all your friends from their rooms, was starting to be a bit more than what you signed up for.

“Hey!” you shouted, voice bellowing down the foyer. You nearly face planted down the stairs with how frantically you ran down them. “Let ‘im go!”

Klahadore gave you one conniving glare and pushed his glasses back up his nose. The second your feet hit the floor, Sham, that mousy little maid, jumped you and had your hands twisted behind your back. No amount of struggling ever loosened her grip, and she’d kicked in the back of your knees before you could even think to swipe at her feet.

“Ah,” drawled the butler. You huffed, shaking, and met the man’s black eyes. “Another of these Strawhats, as you called them. Care to take another pirate off our hands?”

There stood two young looking boys, decked out in matching marine uniforms, but one had cropped pink hair and the other had a shock of horrendously cut blond hair. The blond stepped forth with a tight smile. “Gladly. Thank you for your assistance, sir. You’ve helped to make the seas safer.”

Two other marines came out to take you by your arms while you grunted out curses. You could only get one look over your shoulder as the mansion doors shut behind you, giving you a clear view of the dark smile curling up Klahadore’s face. You fought tirelessly. “Hey! Hey! I—I’m not a pirate! He’s lying! Let me—Luffy! What’s wrong with Luffy?!”

The boy with pink hair was in your face then, his expression much softer than the others. “Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You hardly believed that, but the kindness emanated in the boy’s tone was just enough to ease your struggling. Still heaving, you cast a look over at Luffy, who was being dragged along ahead of you. His head lolled at his shoulders and his feet dragged along behind him. “What’s wrong with Luffy?”

“He’s only drunk,” said the blond, though he amended himself upon hearing a not so comforting sound come from Luffy’s gut. “Probably…”

“He’s sick,” you cried.

“Drunk,” the blond marine insisted, putting an end to the matter by turning on his heel.

You looked back at Kaya’s mansion, which grew smaller by the second, and panic welled in your chest. Something was very, very wrong. Why had the butler done that? Who was Klahadore really? What were the marines there for? Where was Zoro?

Luffy’s sudden hurling almost gave you a heart attack, momentarily causing the marines at your sides to lose focus as tons of blue gunk flew out of Luffy’s mouth… and onto the blond marine. You couldn’t help it—you laughed, almost delirious, throwing your head back and all. The pink haired marine cracked a smile while the other four marines grimaced.

Released out of the marines’ grasp, Luffy hit his knees and heaved onto the dirt, expelling the rest of whatever poison he’d gotten a hold of. His distress sobered you instantly, and with your captors distracted you rushed forth to kneel beside him. When the marines lunged to catch you, the pink haired marine, presumably the one in charge despite his small stature, ordered them, “Stop. She won’t run.”

This guy honestly gave you too much benefit of doubt, but still, he was right; you didn’t run. Instead, you rubbed calming circles on Luffy’s back as the kind marine kneeled beside you, looking concerned himself.

At your glare, he murmured, “I’m Koby. I… I know him.”

You blinked. “Small world.”

“Yep.”

Luffy gave one last cough, and with another gasp he raised his head to stare dazedly from you to Koby. His eyes narrowed in confusion upon finding the boy there. “Koby? I… I gotta go back.”

There wasn’t any room for argument in his tone, his gaze shifting to settle on you. “That butler… He’s gonna kill Kaya, and then he’s going after our crew.”

“No.” Breathing shaky, your jaw set. You made to jump to your feet and bolt back to the mansion when you remembered you were technically still a prisoner, your glare returning at full force.

Koby looked to be at a terrible loss, saying, “I’m under direct orders to bring you in.”

“Kaya’s going to die,” you snapped at him, causing Koby to almost flinch. “You want her blood on your hands, marine?”

Much softer, much less angry, Luffy set a hand on Koby’s shoulder and said, “You said you wanted to help innocent people. Kaya’s innocent.”

For an everlasting moment, you thought maybe Koby was going to let you go. The consideration crossing his eyes was sign enough. And then it all went to complete shit.

The blond marine scoffed. “Know what?” He retrieved his pistol from its holster and loaded it in one motion, running your blood cold. “Screw this.”

Koby jumped to his feet. “Helmeppo, don’t!” he ordered, falling on deaf ears.

There was no shake in the marine’s hand as he stared down a solemn Luffy. “Father always said a dead pirate weighs the same as a live one.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, you rose to your feet and inched yourself a good distance away from Luffy. “Helmeppo?” you scoffed, a panicked tilt to your voice. “That’s one step away from being hippo, dude. Back up.”

Eyes aflame, Helmeppo blinked his attention away from Luffy to find you, just like you wanted.

Koby almost shouted, “Garp gave us strict orders.”

Helmeppo’s glare remained zeroed in on you. “Concerning this one,” he said, jutting his chin at Luffy, “but you.” He shifted to aim at you, a sadistic grin marking his face. “Garp doesn’t want you.”

Your heels dug into the dirt, a slight ring in your ears. It’d been some time since you stared down a gun. Luffy jumped up and took a threatening step toward the marine. “Leave her alone.”

“I will,” Helmeppo barked. “If you start walking, pirate, or she dies.”

You swallowed thickly. Where the hell was Zoro? “Have you ever even fired one of those before, cadet?”

You were certain Helmeppo would have at least bashed you over the head with the butt of his gun for that, had the pained grunts and clank of metal not cut jaggedly through the air. The bodies of the other marines sunk to the ground, unmoving, and a shadow stepped out of the dark.

In the flicker of the pathway torches stood the Demon Pirate Hunter, looking absolutely pissed.

He took one look at Helmeppo, saw where his gun was pointed, and sneered. “Hey, haircut.”

You’d never seen someone drop their gun so fast, the weapon hitting Helmeppo’s thigh. All your bravery fled your body as your steeled back shoulders dropped, allowing yourself to feel every bit of fear now that Zoro was there. It would’ve been sad to die like that, you thought.

But a sense of comfort followed that fear. You weren’t going to die—there was Zoro, and Zoro would never let you die by the hands of some arrogant marine. He wouldn’t let you die, period.

The devil-eyed man approached, looking only at you and the relieved smile tugging at your lips. He stopped, landed a knockout punch to Helmeppo’s face, and barely shook out his fist like it was nothing.

Helmeppo’s head hadn’t so much as hit the ground before you were racing at Zoro, jumping over the unconscious soldier. You hooked your arms around Zoro’s neck in a tight hug. “You’re alive.”

“Have a little faith,” he muttered back, pulling away to offer a teasing smile.

Luffy let out a victory cry and quickly dealt with Koby, ditching the panicked soldier on the road as the three of you ran back to Kaya’s mansion.

The massive house came into focus, basked in the darkness of night. Luffy left to find Kaya as you pulled out your dagger, ready for a fight, only for Zoro to tap your shoulder gently. His bandana was tied securely around his head, his brows drawn taut, and it took you far too long to realize he was holding out that white hilted sword you’d polished and shined too many times to count times.

You stared at it for far too long as well, bringing Zoro to roll his eyes. “You’re not fighting with a knife. Take it.” At your raised brows, he grabbed your hand and forced his sword into your palm, giving you a meaningful look.

“You’re not out of practice, are you?” he asked, a tease in his voice as he headed for the mansion doors.

Spinning the Wado Ichimonji around your hand, you shot him a grin. “Please. You think I went three years and never picked up a sword?” You tsked. “And let all your training go to waste?”

Huffing out a chuckle, Zoro shoved open the doors and warily went inside. You cast his sword a fond glance, shook out your shoulders, and followed suit. Despite your assurances, you were nervous. More nervous than when you were staring down Helmeppo’s pistol.

Practicing swordsmanship on scarecrows was much different than actually fighting a warm body. Warm bodies fight back.

Adjusting your grip on the hilt, you raised the blade and sweeped the area, locking eyes with Zoro a moment later. The foyer was empty. It was quiet. Zoro’s eyes widened upon something behind you, giving you just enough time to whip around and parry the strike of Sham.

The maid still wore her work attire, but now she held a silver shortsword in hand, black paint drawing the shape of a cat’s nose down her face. Buchi lunged out as well, catching his two swords against Zoro’s.

You shoved off of Sham and scurried back to escape her unrelenting strikes. Dodging around a small table you spun to swing at her neck before she could change directions. She jerked away with a literal hiss, eyes flashing.

Sham scooped a broom off the ground and jumped high into the air, moving the broom and the sword in a cross as she landed a blow against the flat of your blade. With a grunt of exertion you ducked and swept under her arm, Sham’s strength working against her as she went flying forward.

Buchi chased Zoro up the staircase, taking out some posts on the banister. Startling at the sound of cracking wood, Sham got a stab at you, catching your blade arm. Wincing through the pain you tightened your grip on the Wado Ichimonji, dodging this way and that to avoid being skewered by Sham’s advances.

“Hey!” Zoro snapped, dragging Sham’s attention to him. He leaped off the stairs and cut her broom in half, finding himself now under the attack of both Black Cats.

Chest heaving, you rolled out your shoulder and bit back a whine at the shudder of pain, swapping the sword to your other hand. Zoro lunged around Sham and sought high ground back on the stairs. Sham grinned up at him, showing off his second sword she’d swiped from its sheath.

An annoyed tick appeared on Zoro’s jaw.

You seemed to have been forgotten in favor of better competition, slinking into the shadows of the room. Sham stabbed Zoro’s sword into the cabinet beside her, leaving it unattended as she and Buchi cornered Zoro on the stairs.

He swiftly leaped over them and retrieved his sword, locking you in place with a glare. Don’t move, it said. Stop while you’re ahead.

Ears ringing, you traced the line of action as Zoro fought the two pirates down to the center of the room again. He knocked Sham aside only for Buchi to lunge again, allowing the other to get back up again. Zoro shoved Buchi against the ground, successfully knocking him out.

Letting out a hiss, Sham ran at him and nicked his cheek, knocking one sword from his hand as he evaded another hit. Something furious welled up and out of you.

“Hey!” Rushing forth, you caught her by surprise, pressing your sword against hers with all your weakening might. Her footing was off, her legs collapsing long enough for you to descend upon her and bash the brunt of the sword against her skull.

The newfound silence crackled in the air between you and your swordsman. Breathing deeply, you suddenly let out a curse, dropping Zoro’s sword as the gash on your arm finally strained from that last blow.

“Fuck.” You shook out your arm to stave off the pain. “Shit-shit-shit, that hurt. Gah!” Then noticing the Wado Ichimonji on the floor, “Oh, I dropped it, I’m sorry—”

You kneeled down and picked it up in your good arm, still rolling out your shoulder even as you held it out for him, eyes shining with an innocent adoration as if you hadn’t just jumped a woman for him.

Zoro only stood there in complete and utter awe, three years worth of dreams and nightmares flooding his head as you stood before him. Fighting alongside him. Just like you used to. Like he dreamed of. Like he wanted to for the rest of your lives. He heaved, struggling to get enough air.

“I love you.” A hefty weight was lifted off his strained shoulders.

His eyes bore into yours as he caught his breath, nearly nervous in how he watched you. You wouldn’t have been surprised if your heart exploded, giving way to every feeling coursing through your veins. A smile split across your face, you set the sword on the ground to rush at him, removing all space between you and him, flushing yourself to his chest.

Sham and Buchi’s swift swordsmanship was nothing compared to the speed at which you left kisses on his face, leaving no skin unloved. Zoro’s face scrunched up through a laugh, light and airy, his cheeks dusted pink.

Finished with your attacks you pressed your forehead to his, cradling his head in your hands and just breathing in the moment. The two pirates were groaning at your feet, but you hardly heard it, swaying in the silence.

“This was well worth the wait,” you said.

He hummed his agreement against your lips, ghosting a kiss, meaning to really kiss you till you physically forced him away, when a voice echoed from the top of the stairs.

“Oh,” Kaya awed, arm hooked through Usopp’s. “How sweet.”

Zoro tried to back away when you hooked a hand around his neck and yanked him down to your level, kissing him gently.

“I love you too,” you murmured, the pair of you ignoring Usopp’s encouraging holler. “So, so, so much.”

Behind you, Sham started to wriggle awake. The smile slid fast from your face as you whirled around and gripped her by the hair, ordering Zoro to get a rope so you could secure your two prisoners.

Zoro grinned lovingly as the rest of the crew descended the stairs. “Yes ma'am.”

જ⁀➴

“I hereby call this ship,” Luffy began to declare, turning away from a teary eyed Kaya to face the grand vessel on the sunny shipyard. “The Going Merry!”

“It’s yours now,” Kaya smiled. “Your new home.”

In reply Luffy let out a shrill cry of victory, dragging a chuckle out of you. Your arm was freshly bandaged, all three of Zoro’s swords now back in their rightful sheaths. You leaned on him slightly, chin rested on his shoulder as your eyes begged for some rest.

Luffy turned to smile at Usopp, who’d wandered some distance away. “Usopp! What’re you waiting for?”

Usopp stumbled over his words, trying his hardest not to seem excited at the prospect, and after a brief goodbye with Kaya followed by a sweet kiss, he agreed. Before you could even smile, a worried figure broke through the crowds of the shipyard.

“Oh, God,” Vee cried as soon as she spotted you. She jumped over a rail and down some stairs to envelope you in her arms. “I heard about what happened!”

Nami tilted her head. “How on earth did you hear?”

Vee waved off her question with a brief the grannies hear everything and took you by the shoulders. “I never liked that butler, I—”

She noticed Kaya standing to the side, her mouth snapping shut. “I’m… sorry for your losses, Miss Kaya.”

The sweet girl simply smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

Luffy clapped Usopp on his shoulder, smile bright as the sun, and turned his sights on his next recruit. Luffy zeroed in on you, calling out, “Y/N! You’re coming, right?”

Vee cast him an odd glance, shifting her gaze back to you. “What…”

She blinked and seemed to only just notice the swordsman at your shoulder, and she let out a gentle laugh. “Would you look at that? Speak of the devil.”

Zoro scoffed, half grinning. “Hey, Vee.”

Realization was slowly dawning on the woman as she took your hand in hers. “So… This means you’re off then?”

You were almost reluctant to nod. “Yes.”

A hundred different thoughts flashed across her eyes, lips pursing, before Vee nodded firmly. “Right. You’ll need supplies, won’t you? Some herbs and bottles, to continue your work. A textbook maybe.” Her hand found your cheek as she gave a watery smile. “You’re exceptional, you know. I’m proud of my apprentice.”

A burn welled up in your throat as you cupped her hand. “What about you? Who’ll help with the clinic?”

“You know, Vee,” Usopp cut in. “Kaya was just saying she’d like to be a doctor.”

Kaya gently smacked his arm, reprimanding him as Vee blinked surprisedly. “Really? Uhm, well, I’d be happy to teach you, get you ready for academy entries… If that’s something you’d like?”

“Yes,” Kaya blurted, flushing slightly through her barely suppressed smile.

“Great!” Luffy exclaimed, locking eyes with you. “You’re in, then?”

You took in a steadying breath, your hand searching sightlessly behind you, Zoro’s hand meeting yours moments later. “I’m in.”

Nami leaned into her hip, grinning. “Good. I don’t know how much more testosterone I could take.”

The lot of you set off in different directions, off to gather supplies as quickly as possible to get off the island before the marines caught back up. You lagged behind, Zoro falling into step beside you.

He offered you a little smile and moved his arm around your shoulder, liking the feel of you tucked into his side. It finally settled in that this was happening. Years of wishing finally came to fruition. You pressed a kiss to the back of Zoro’s hand.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you confessed.

“I swore, didn’t I?” Zoro said.

Through a blinding smile, you stopped and kissed him. “You did.” Your fingertips grazed the back of his neck as you held him close, running a shiver down his spine. You pressed your forehead to his and mused, “We’re still not the greatest apothecary and swordsman in the world though.”

“Dracule Mihawk is hard to find—”

“I’m kidding. We’ve got all the time in the world to get there.”

Although you weren’t exactly sure how one becomes the greatest apothecary in the world, you were exactly sure that wherever your ambitions took you, Zoro would be there. If you had any influence on fate, you would sail together till the end of your days.

જ⁀➴

Four rickety boned women stood along the wall of the tavern, hawkeyed gazes scouring the streets of Syrup Village. Martha, June, Polly, and of course, Miss Irma.

Irma massaged at her ever-pained neck, searching out something of interest, when her ears caught the tail end of a laugh. Sweeping the street, her gaze stopped upon a shocking sight.

Well, she thought, that’s something you don’t see everyday.

Miss Kaya from the mansion estate was leaving the town clinic, arm in arm with that troublesome Usopp. Irma harrumphed, thinking Miss Kaya should know better than to keep such company, when she noticed Usopp was followed by some odd companions.

A ginger girl looking worse for wear, a boy with a straw hat so worn she wouldn’t be surprised if the wind blew it apart, and Vee, the village doctor. A fairly odd group indeed.

She hummed curiously, especially when the door to the clinic swung open once more to reveal Vee’s apprentice, a full to the brim satchel on her shoulder. Irma swatted at her three friends and pointed their attention to the sight just as someone else followed the girl out of the clinic.

Martha gaped, her cigarette falling to the ground. Irma, June, and Polly reacted the same, not entirely believing it.

Right behind the apprentice walked a handsome young man with a shock of green hair and three swords at his hip, a gentle smile on his face as he tugged on the girl’s arm to get her to face him again. Turning around, she was greeted with a kiss to her forehead and a gaze so warm Irma felt its heat from across the street.

“It’s—It’s that boy,” Polly exclaimed. “The one that left her.”

Irma started to grin a satisfied kind of grin, crossing her arms over her chest. “Pay up, ladies. I told you he’d come back for her.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @nadlx33333 @fluffybunnyu @ellisaworld @hawkins-2000 @bdudette @misfits1a @star-yawnznn

#zoro #zoro x reader #opla!zoro x reader #opla #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader

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sinning-23 · 3 months

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Hello,

How about a LA luffy where he's dating Reader and he keeps talking about her but no one believes him until she comes and rescue them or something I know not much details but please take this to your account English isn't my first language so excuse me

OMG THIS IS PERFECT! Thank you for the request! I apologize for taking so long to write it I've been so busy and full of writers block its insane! I added a little twist with his and made th reader a gunslinger sooo yeah(for the plot) Anywa here we go! Enjoy

Warnings: None

The strawhat crew was becoming increasingly irritated with how much Luffy would speak of this mystery woman who he claimed to be his 'girlfriend'. In all honestly, neither of them thought he had the romantic capacity to even GET a girlfriend to begin with. But the way he spoke of her...it couldn't all be lies could it?

He mentioned how you'd saved him with your remarkable skills as a gunslinger and you were an amazing shot. He gushed about how it took only one bullet to kill three men who had threatened him and when it was all over you 'pepper his face with kisses'. How you were always there to save him more times than not and that you were just absolutely beautiful. The 'prettiest girl' he'd ever seen as he told it.

"If you guys are so in love why didn't she join you on this little pirate adventure." Nami quips, eyes rolling at the most recent story Luffy had explained. He only tilted his head and smiled as if the answer was just so obvious (it wasn't.)

"It wasn't her dream." He smiles, rocking back and for a bit as Zoro finished off his drink before speaking.

"This wasn't exactly our first choice either but here we are." the swordsman smirks, his arms crossed over his chest.

The smirk was soon replaced with irritation when the waiter went to speak.

"That's different. Besides, I'm sure Luffy wouldn't leave a woman like that all on her lonesome. Right?" Sanji questions, more so trying to convince himself Luffy had more sense than that. But the brunette only shakes his head.

"Nope, she said we would cross paths again one day and I let her be. It was a deal! And now I get to wait until one day I see her beautiful face again." And before anyone could protest or pry any further, Luffy stuffed his face with food.

A sigh rang out from Nami as she leaned against the seating of the booth they're in, only to quickly shoot back up with wide eyes. Since Luffy's bounty had got a hell of a whole lot bigger, there was always the occasional run-in with someone who claimed they'd be getting their money sooner rather than later.

On this particular night though, a gang of about 6 or 7 had strutted up to their booth and slammed his bounty on the cracked wood of the table, making it shake. Zoro paused, debating if these idiots were worth the fight and Luffy continued to eat without a care in the world.

"I'm getting that bounty tonight." Then, what they all assumed was the leader spoke, his hand drawing his sword. This could have gotten ugly rather quickly but the fight seemed to be over with the sound of fired shots ringing through the eatery.

It was so quick you'd almost miss it…each shot followed by another, and one by one each of the men dropped like flies, screams and gasps of frightened patrons filling up the space momentarily. From the darkened corner of the bar stood a woman in a rather large coat that almost touched the floor.

The revolver in her hand rattled before she tucked it away into one of the many pockets that adorned her body. She was a decent height, and her hair was pushed out of her face most likely to keep her line of sight from being obscured. Finally, the once look of disgust that was painted over her features was filled with joy as she stepped over the bodies of the men she'd just laid to waste.

"Luffy!" She squeals, practically vibrating as the Stawhat leaped form his seat and embraced the mystery woman.

This wasn't the usual hug though, Luffy had simply lifted the lady and twirled her, his face buried in the crook of her neck and she giggled and tangled her fingers in his hair.

"I'm sorry did we miss something?" Nami quips, looking to the rest of the crew to confirm they were just as lost.

"This is her! Remember the girl I've been talking about!?" He practically shouts, his hand secure at your waist as that iconic smile plays over his lips.

Oh okay it was finally starting to make sense. Two cinimon rolls but one can and will kill you if they so desire...well-

Nami is the first to laugh, disbelief filling her but the closer she looks the more her laughter and smirk dies down. Luffy's hand was firm at your waist, yours on his chest as you flash a content smile.

"Y/n, meet my crew!" Luffy introduces as you jut your hand out happily, meeting that of whom you soon learn is Usopp and Sanji. Nami was next and Zoro simple noddded in your direction.

"You really know how to pick em! Congratulations on this bounty by the way love." You hum, pressing kisses over Luffy's freckled cheeks.

Damn how much love and affection could you give? It was like every two seconds your lips were pressed somewhere against their Captain’s face! And he didn’t seems to mind at all! Well, not that Luffy was bothered by it but still! With one last kiss to your boyfriend’s face, you usher the crew out of the eatery, sliding the bartender some extra berrie to apologize for the ruckus.

The two of you looked so inseparable like that, hands interlinked and swinging back and forth simultaneously.

“You know what this means don’t you. Usopp teases, sticking his hand out awaiting Nami to fulfil her end of the bargain.

She swears in defeat roller her eyes before paying.

Who wouldn’t make a bet on something as outlandish as their captain having a girlfriend!?

#x reader #one piece #reader is black #one piece live action #i don't care he's hot #headcannons #one piece x reader #opla #luffy opla #opla luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #opla luffy x reader

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tadpolesonalgae · 3 months

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 13

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: team long-hair Eris or team short-hair?

word count: 6,921

-Part 12- -Part 14-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Eris,” you groan weakly, staring at the plate of food set before you.

“Have you made any progress?” He asks absently, not even bothering to look up.

“It’s been three days,” you say, staring at him as you lean back in your seat, head tipping back to try and distract from the rich scent that’s taunting you. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, stomach cramping with hunger as you try to think of something other than food. It’s been so long since you’ve had to consciously draw your attention away from starvation, you’re lacking the discipline. Before, it would have been a case of chopping wood, or counting the grains on different floorboards, but now your focus darts about like a crazed sparrow.

For three days he’s withheld food. Three days he’s set you down with a meal. Three days of being instructed to summon something—a spark, of some kind—and you can eat. A day of boredom, a day of listlessness, and now a day filled with ravenous hunger. Again, your stomach rumbles, carving aches through muscle, teeth gritting together.

The room is large—cavernous. A tall window is to your far right, Eris sat at a large desk before it while his pen scratches away on parchment. The great four-poster bed is at your back, with you sat glumly atop the chest at its foot, staring at the plate laden with simple but lovely food. Not even fully out of reach, but entirely off limits. Instead, you attempt to peer beyond, gold and amber flame flickering wildly within the fireplace, burning free of logs, sustained entirely by his magic, constantly chipping away at the steady accumulation of strain so as to keep himself intact.

“How am I supposed to do anything if I don’t have fuel to feed off?” You ask absently, enraptured by the wicked dance of the fire, mind beginning to buzz dully, eyes losing focus. “Show a spark of magic, and you can eat until you’re full,” he replies, glancing at another sheet of paper before redirecting his attention. “This is torture,” you mutter, managing to shoot him a glare, unwilling to shift your body too much in case the aches spear up into your ribs. “What a wonderful life you’ve had,” he murmurs, before neatly scrawling something on a spare sheet. You deepen the intensity of the glare, wishing to cast a tiny spark of his own flame against the stacks of dry, crisp paper.

His pen comes to a halt, and he looks up, peering at a clock on the wall—midday. Perfectly on schedule, he sets the paper to the side, standing fluidly from his desk before reaching for the outer layer he’d discarded on the back of his seat, pulling it on over the width of his shoulders, pulling his hair from between the back of the clothing and his spine. Hair as smooth as silk, coming to his waist, burning like the flames he commands. Your eyes drag back to the fire, heavy and tired.

“Up,” he instructs, walking briskly across the floor, boots lightly scuffing against the boards in sharp, elegant steps. Wearily, you clamber to your feet, following behind him as he leads you on the trip that will take the two of you to the crisp air of the outdoors, appearing not entirely opposite from a jewel-toned painting. A sharp, brutal kind of beauty. Today, it’s all you can do to keep up with him, quietened from hunger, tired from starvation as you walk at his side, entering into the dense forest that surrounds the palace.

“What’s the point of this?” You ask quietly, watching as you take step after step, lightly frosted leaves crumpling beneath your feet. “That’s up to you,” he replies, leading you deeper into the woods, taking a different route from the stroll he’s chosen the past two. “So there isn’t one,” you mutter, shifting as you usually do to walk behind him, simply following the trail of footsteps, one after the other. “If you spent half the time you do sulking actually putting your mind to training, you’d have found something by now,” he returns, keeping up the pace. “So inspiring,” you mumble, wishing to lie down, but the cold bites at your throat with every breath, so you push on.

“What are you here for?” He asks sharply, your ears twitching from the ice in his tone. “You tell me,” you mutter, “you’re the one who’s supposed to know everything, after all.”

“Not quite everything,” he replies wryly, and you can practically imagine the sharpness to his mouth. “You’re here because you wanted to learn how to control your magic.”

“You’re starving me,” you reply, with a little more bite than is appropriate.

You lift your head, staring tiny needles between his broad shoulders, hair soft as silk as it breezes in the wind, matching the fiery ambers and citrine yellows of the brutal landscape, moss like emeralds clinging to the bark of the trees. The forest is so thick you can’t make out its end, and you wonder how deep the trail is going to go before circling back to the palace. You don’t like forests. All manner of things could lurk inside, no longer restricted to wild deer or rabid wolves.

“Funny, that,” he says quietly, a whispered hiss slicing beneath the edge of his words, hairs rising at the back of your neck. “I’m certain you’ve figured the kitchens are nearby, yet you haven’t so much as taken a single step toward them.” A twig snaps in the distance and your skin prickles into gooseflesh. “Nor have you even attempted to pick at the meals you’re given,” he remarks, ignoring the strange sounds in the distance, pulling you deeper into the density of the enchanted forest. “What’s your point?” You ask warily, the back of your neck beginning to itch, feeling an invisible weight licking up your body. Your eyes dart between the trees, but there’s nothing there. Even the noise of other life has dwindled to a stop, you realise, as if trapping you in a great glass bubble.

“You say you’re starving, yet seem content to remain that way,” he murmurs, absently, moving on silent feet. It’s mildly unsettling how he can move with such stealth. “What are you suggesting? That I just eat the food and lose any sort of motivation to find something?” You reply quietly, subconsciously having lowered your voice to whisper, to avoid being heard. By Something.

“If you understand why your food is being withheld, why are you complaining so frequently?” He murmurs back, the wind dying out, hair resting stilly at his back. “I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in poverty, Eris,” you whisper sharply, “but starvation isn’t an enjoyable pain.”

“An unenjoyable pain suggests the existence of pleasurable pain,” he replies, paces slowing as he peers around the wood. “No wonder you favour the Shadowsinger.”

“What are you talking about?” You sigh exasperatedly, marking a triptych of claw marks on a nearby tree.

But he’s come to a stop, turning preternaturally still, as if frozen in time. So still, he looks like a painting. You wonder briefly how Feyre would choose to render him. You doubt she’d want to paint him at all.

Silence falls thick and heavy. Tension crawling through tendons, threading its way tight through your skeleton, until you’re strung taut, poised to smash like ceramic upon concrete. “Eris?” You whisper, not even a breath, syllables contained within the space of a blink. “What’s happening?” You move to take a step forward, but he holds his hand up, attention remaining forward, piercing into something you’re unable to see, or even smell. Whatever it is, is utterly undetectable to your senses.

And by the moment you can pick it out, it’s already too late.

Hundreds of pounds of weight and muscle slam into you, sending you careening across the ground, the very earth trembling as paws thunder forward, a single arm larger than your whole body. Rock cracks against your spine, and the air is shoved from your lungs. Lips part on ghostly breaths, air rattling in and out as your nails split beneath the pressure of biting into rough stone. Paws shake the ground either side of you, large, ivory tusks curling around a blunt snout, snorting and huffing hot breath in moist tendrils.

Sweat beads on your brow, wide eyes locking with wild aggression, a bellowing roar whipping the hair away from your face with the force of its fury. The beast rears, pushing up onto its hind legs, front paws peddling forward in the air, watery sunlight glinting off steel-like claws, poised to shred down on you.

Hands rise without a second thought, as simple as breathing, and for a fraction of a second, the wall on your power cracks. Shorter than a breath, quicker than a blink, pure magic detonates through the forest, a wave of searing heat blazing through your skin as the pulse finds the beast, knocking thick trunks down as it goes. Wood splinters, earth raining down from the sky, twigs and sticks and logs smashing into the ground, crunching upon rock. Snapping like bone.

You stare with wide eyes at the creature, an awful screaming sound coming from its lungs, paws strung taut and kicking wildly, as if attempting to run. The piercing tang of iron spears through the clearing, clumps of fur falling loosely, slabs of skin sliding off its still-kicking carcass. The squealing dies to choked splutters, wet crunches sounding with each breath as the body pulses weakly, heart still pumping as blood leaks from skinned muscle.

The tubes of your stomach spasm, clenching and retching, trying to haul something up but you’re utterly empty. Eris isn’t as fortunate. While saliva drips from your lips, thick and slimy, he’s upending everything just behind a tree, as if having lost control of his own body. Deep, spasming breaths hiccup in and out of you wetly, needing something to regurgitate.

Already you can feel that burning heat singe at your flesh, sizzling just beneath the surface, flushing beneath your clothes as if sat directly before a bonfire. Perhaps even inside one. A sharp pain pierces through your lungs, feeling as if a needle is pressing into your side with each inhale, having to quickly shallow the breaths. Aches blossom through your temples, colours growing in intensity, parts of your vision looking as if someone burn a hole in them, lids feeling like they’re made of stone, so heavy and tired.

The sickening tang of iron is the last thing you remember before collapsing forward, exhausted from the volatility of the detonation, feeling blessed to be being swept under so promptly. Provided with such a swift relief from the pain.

————

The smell of pleasantly flaky pastries wafts from beneath your door, bringing with it the sweetness of cream and berries, apparently a breakfast favourite, here.

Bleary eyes crack open, aches thudding dully across your forehead, just above your brows. The room is a little hazy, white spots dancing, the edges of your vision blurred with strange colours, as if you’ve stared directly into the sun for too long. Foot steps pass somewhere through a wall, and you try to blink dully, but your skin is itching, the dimensions of your chamber shifting with each breath, nausea fluttering up your throat.

Wilfully, you close your eyes, once again passing over into unconsciousness.

————

You’re pulled up into the world by pain, a sharp spear piercing through your chest, tiny needles flung carelessly into your anatomy then closed in, so you have to live with the prickling pain creeping beneath every movement. Skin is damp with dew and the clothes stick to your body, rising and falling with every breath, a chill icing across your torso.

The door swings open silently, and you blink blearily, struggling to recognise the tall, male figure with hair like the rising sun. Amber eyes pierce into you, and he comes to a stop beside your bed. “You’re awake.”

Your brows knit together tight, the noise sending a pulse of pain through your mind, but you manage to sit up, the blanket pooling around your stomach. “What happened?” You mumble, pressing the length of your cold fingers to join across the hollow of your eyes. He sits down in a chair you hadn’t noticed, nor remember, resting his arms atop the supports either side. “What do you remember?”

“I remember the forest…” you murmur, brows still pulled tight, but the aches are beginning to recede. “And…being hungry again. And…we were walking…then everything went quiet…” You close your eyes, tugging at the memories, but the pathing seems to fade into nothing. “There was…something…” Hands press over your face, rubbing either side the bridge of your nose, digging deeper.

The eruption hits you all over again, fresh shock washing through your body like you’ve been thrown into an icy river in the middle of winter. You inhale sharply, air pinching at your lungs, coughing. Pressure throbs through your mind with the force, before retreating gently, slinking back into the darkness where it came from.

“It should come easier to you now,” he says, breaking the buzzing silence. “What will?” You ask groggily, deciding to keep your eyes closed for a little longer. “Your magic,” he reminds.

You stiffen, listening to the heavy thud of your heart against your ribs.

“I’m not doing that again,” you whisper, hands still pressed over your brows, as if able to lock yourself up away from the world. To keep it at bay so you don’t have to continue living through it. Content to reside peacefully away from everything, quiet and alone. In your own safety. “I’m—… I can’t.”

Your heart continues its dull thud, quiet stretching between you, feeling like a chasm slowly stretching wider, and wider, until you can hardly see him at all.

“You should eat,” he says at last. “It’s been four days since you last had a meal. You’ll feel sick for a bit, but it will help.” You swallow dryly, prying your tongue from your teeth. The last thing you want to do right now is eat. Eris sighs, standing from the seat. “Wash too. You’ll feel better once you’re clean.” He turns, heading for the door on silent feet.

“Did you ever experience this?” You ask hoarsely, not looking up—you know he’s heard. Eris pauses at the threshold, and you wait in a whirlpool of silence. “Only a few times,” he replies quietly, “but my magic is different from yours. It will react in different ways.”

You don’t have to hear the door close to know he’s left after that, and you spend an unknown amount of time marinating in the sheets. Thoughts buzzing dully, your mind feeling as the air does before a storm.

Static, and prone to sparking.

————

You manage to clean yourself up easily enough once the shaking subsides. There’s still a slight ache whenever you move your eyes too sharply, but you’re working around it. A spare set of sheets is in the small closet at the foot of the bed, and you feel better once they’re changed. But then it’s the task of eating, and you feel worse from the thought alone. He’d said you would feel better, and you know you will, but that’s hard to get through when you feel on the verge of upending your stomach on the floor.

Slowly, one small mouthful at a time, waiting periods in between to make sure you won’t bring it back up, you manage to get through most of the meal. The small chunks of meat had been the most difficult, now not only charged with memories from the hut, but also from furry flesh sliding… You push the thought away. You had done that. You’d taken its life. Had Feyre ever felt that sense of dirt beneath her nails? Palms now not only itching, but lightly tingling too, as if you’ve rubbed your hands through tree sap, and now they’re clogged and sticky.

Eris finds you again in the evening, in better condition, with a little life in your eyes. He marks the now empty plate, something flickering through his gaze, but you don’t pay enough attention to it to figure what it is. “Feeling better?” He asks shortly, sitting in the chair, and you shift the volume from your lap. “A bit,” you concede, sat cross-legged on the mattress, clean sheets pulled over your lap politely. He nods to the book, “bored out of your mind yet?”

“Only by your charming company,” you reply, forcing your lips to quirk at the edges, desperate to rediscover that familiar rhythm between you. Where you can forget some things for a bit, and float through time peacefully.

His brows narrow, but his eyes glint. “You clearly could have gone longer without the meal,” he says, displeasure in his tone that has your lips quirking further. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

“What do you mean next time?” You ask warily, leaning back into the wall, pulling the sheets higher around your waist. He rolls his eyes, and you’re surprised by how familiar the gesture is; how normal. You wonder if he’s doing it intentionally. “Your control is incredibly poor,” he remarks. “It’s almost as if I don’t have any, and this is something entirely new to me,” you mutter, reaching for the book. He gives you a pointed look, and you stiffen, realising you walked into that one.

“I’m not going back into those woods again,” you say cautiously, eyeing him, feeling the comforting weight of the volume in your lap. All that knowledge, condensed into paper and writing. The edges of his mouth sharpen, and wariness intensifies in your stomach. “I think you’ll much prefer the new approach,” he concedes, leaning back in the chair, body relaxed as he watches you. “And what is your new approach?” You ask, already looking nervous, worry etched into your features. “I don’t know if you remember our first polite conversation,” he muses, “but you became rather animated over that little orrery.”

“I remember…” you reply, frowning at him. What does that have to do with anything? “So we’ll try evoking your magic through positive emotion, rather than through fear, or withholding a vital ingredient.”

“At least you’re aware of what you were doing,” you reply dryly, grimacing as you remember the cramps that had twisted through your stomach.

His eyes slide over you analytically, and you try to shy further into the wall, imaginary hackles rising. “Do you have some more…appropriate attire?” He asks, and you scowl at him hard. “For what?” The answer is probably no either way. “For being within the public eye,” he elaborates, as if it’s obvious. “You can’t be out and about in the clothes you’ve donned these past days.” You bite back your reply, having not thought anything wrong with them. They’re modest, well-fitted, and warm.

They’re probably lacking diamonds dripping from the sleeves, knowing him.

“I’ll take that as a no?” Eris remarks, noting the sullen set of your mouth. He sighs, “understandable. I shouldn’t have expected you to have the foresight to plan for this.” Your lips part, brows pulled together as you stare with disbelieving outrage. “You’re much more likeable when you’re not talking. Maybe try it more often,” he adds when you’re unable to form a response, a gleam in his eyes. You blink, shaking your head slightly. “Just adding insult to injury…” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. “I could have died to that creature, you know.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No thanks to you.” An unnervingly amused expression relaxes his features, lips softening at their sharp edges. “No thanks to me indeed,” he remarks quietly. “You fought for your own life. I didn’t think you had it in you,” he croons, a faint glint in his amber eyes.

Your features shift, swirling from mild irritation to quiet loss. Brow curled in the centre of your forehead almost imperceptibly as the words register across your skin. Shoulders slump, breath floating away, spine sloping against the wall, peering at your hands in your lap, crumbling and lumpy. “I didn’t, either,” you murmur. So softly he almost doesn’t catch it. But he sees the way you’re looking at your palms, a mix of disgust, and wariness.

“I wanted to live,” you whisper, brows furrowed. And it’s the look of doubtful perplex that has him pulling his eyes away.

“You sound surprised,” he says quietly, after recollecting himself. But you shake your head dully, still watching your hands. “After living with it for so long…” you say, “being on the verge of it for years…” You trail off, leaving him wondering what marks it might have left below your skin.

You clear your throat, looking up but not quite able to meet his eye. “What happened? To the…the creature?”

“I had it burned,” he replies simply.

“Was it…had it died quickly?” You ask softly. Amber eyes mark the slight tremors in your fingertips, the room still save for the tremble of your hands.

“Yes,” he answers, able to hear the whisper of breath that leaves your chest. The faint look of guilty relief in your expression.

It doesn’t for a second cross your mind he could have lied.

An untruth would serve him no benefit.

————

For the first time in a long time, a curse sits on the tip of your tongue.

“Have you changed?” Eris asks, boredom heavy in his tone. “I’m not wearing this,” you whisper hoarsely, staring at the way the riding trousers grip to your legs, curving in at your waist, wrapped around your calves. You don’t even dare look at yourself from behind.

The iron rings hiss as he pulls the curtain back, and you spin around, stumbling back into the mirror. “Eris. Get out.” He raises a brow at the sharp tone, mildly surprised by the abrupt venom, but he knows you’re harmless. For now.

“They fit perfectly,” he states, features remaining in a bland but analytical set. “What’s the problem?”

“Are you—? They’re trousers,” you hiss, already searching for something to pull over yourself. “I don’t care how many wonderful things might await me, I will not wear these things.”

“There are a plethora of other subjects for you to work yourself up over, and yet you choose this one,” he muses, and you press yourself tighter to the mirror. “Get out.”

He offers a skeptical look, and your brows narrow, skin beginning to crawl. You feel so bare. So on display. The shapes of handprints begin to itch over your hind, and pressure builds at the forefront of your head, between your brows. “I’m serious. Get out.” Eris regards you quietly for a moment, head angled slightly as he observes, before turning for the exit. “I suppose the colour doesn’t quite suit you,” he says idly. “Next one.”

The curtains again hiss shut, and you ply your lungs apart with oxygen. Heart racing in your chest. Heat builds behind your eyes, but you push it back if only to ward against the painful prickling sensation it brings forward. With shaky fingers, you manage to push the rigid material down your thighs, folding them neatly and discarding the shirt that had been set out with it. Swiftly moving to the next piece. With some conscious effort, you’re able to shift your mind to what lies ahead: he’d mentioned attempting to stimulate your magic through positive emotions rather than fear, which had your interest piqued. Though part of you worries what he might think of as worthy of positive emotion.

The itch to your skin hasn’t quite faded, and your hands have gotten worse since the forest. Bumps are more pronounced on the tops of your knuckles, scabbed over but still raw. The pressure in your head has again receded, but remains, throbbing lightly whenever you raise or lower your head. To make everything unimaginably worse, you’d spotted the beginnings of your cycle this morning, and had nearly cried. You’d secretly hoped the amount of strain your magic has been putting on your body would be enough to relieve the horror, but it seems not. You’d also found more than a few bruises littering your skin, but those will hopefully be healed and gone by the day’s end—they’re only light from when you’d hit the rock.

Thinking back on it, you’re surprised no bones were broken.

“Do you make a game out of taking years to change, or are you simply that slow?”

Your demeanour instantly drops further, a scowl settling between your brows. You finish tying the bodice up, then walk to the curtain, gently pulling one aside. “I’d like to see you attempt to tie yourself up in one of these dresses,” you mutter, arms automatically folding self-consciously across your torso, one hand wrapped over your waist, the other settled below your shoulder. “There are too many strings to do up.” “Turn around,” he says, ignoring you completely.

Pulling back on the scowl, you turn in a circle. “Saying a please or a thank you every so often wouldn’t turn you to stone, you know,” you remark as you move, eventually having gone full circle. “Is this one good enough, your sourness?” You ask, dipping into a provoking curtsey.

His lips remain pressed in a disapproving line, but his eyes gleam. “It’ll do.”

————

You’d been folding your previous clothes back into your small closet, wondering about where he was about to take you. Curiosity wandering through your mind. If he tries to take you so much as a step towards that forest again…

You close the doors softly, turning for the door, going to meet him when your eyes pass over the small desk, pushed tight to the walls. Just beside the volume sits the small, deep blue gift box. You pause, gaze shifting from the door to the desk. Fingers raise to thumb at your earlobes, stroking absently.

Before you can doubt yourself, you walk over to the box, opening it up, peering down at the pair of earrings, understated but refined. Plain, generic jewellery.

You slide the gold in, pearl droplets hanging pretty from delicately pointed ears.

Again, fingers skate over your lobes, this time pierced and weighted. It’s probably the only time you’ll feel brave enough to wear them. A dull ache rubs through your heart, but you push it away, hands falling to your sides as you walk briskly for the exit, out to find Eris.

Leaving the small box open and gutted on the desk.

————

It’s about three in the afternoon, and the crisp breeze cools your skin, playing about your hair and fluttering across the fabric of the dress. Luckily, most of the finely sewn material is concealed by a an earthy orange cloak, dusty but warm coloured. A few wisps of hair tickle the edges of your mouth, and you push them away irritably, wishing to pin it back. You wish his hair bothered him the way yours does.

“Is there anywhere in particular I’m being taken, or is this another mindless stroll?” You inquire, keeping a step or two behind him, trailing along as you peer at the stalls, set up in the courtyard of the palace. “None of the walks have been thoughtless,” he corrects, keeping on his leisurely path, “there are a few things I’m in need of, but you should be looking about on your own.”

“What do you mean ‘looking about on my own’?” You ask, brows furrowing lightly.

“I don’t know what you like,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. You blink, then nod, mostly to yourself. “Right.”

“You do know what you like, don’t you?” He asks seriously, glancing at you briefly from over his shoulder. “Of course I know what I like,” you return, meeting his piercing gaze. “Do you? Or are you always so busy with work you have no time for fun?”

“You have interests in things that serve yourself?” He redirects, skepticism more prominent than before as he makes his way effortlessly through the people. “Nothing that might benefit that family of yours?”

“They’re as much family to me as you are with yours,” you reply thoughtlessly, not a single beat passing.

The words register in your mind, at once tasting foul and horrid. How ungrateful you sound, guilt beating against your still-bruised flesh. Shame heats your skin, eyes drifting down to the neat cobbles. You hadn’t meant that. “I mean…family’s a particular word,” you mumble, pearls hanging heavy from your lobes. Thumbs brush over them—should you even be wearing such a gift? Thoughtless, perhaps…potentially intended. Holding great beauty, while plain and generic. Are you worthy of that?

“You seem to assume I am not close with my own,” he speculates idly, perhaps with more lightness than you’re accustomed to. You suppose you don’t spend much time around people…maybe the differences stand out more because of that. Less habits to familiarise and attune yourself to.

You swallow, gaze skipping to dance over stools: herbs and spices, dried plants and trinkets, small glass bottles filled with gem-coloured liquids, tiny circular things that look like they’d taste sweet, gleaming jewels that wink up at passersby, thread so thin it’s like hair or cobweb. A jewellers stand catches your eye, not through the nature of the craftsmanship, which is admittedly fine, but the table holds a modest assortment of rings, and you’re for some reason reminded of the ones Rhys sometimes adorns his hands with. Wrought in sterling silver, small details welded to the solid bands, showcasing its sturdiness and elegance simultaneously. Like dancers.

Silver flickers at the back of your mind before vanishing, hastily doused before second-thoughts begin swarming.

“Are you?” You inquire with equal lightness.

“They are my family,” he says, “proximity won’t change that.”

A natural quiet settles between you, filled only by the background chatter of other voices, other people with their own lives; their own victories and losses. Other problems, with or without solutions, continuing on with life, because times is ceaseless and everlasting, ticking by coldly, peacefully, sometimes with devastating fluidity, others with painful leisure. Perhaps it’s not time at fault, but yourself. Time isn’t cruel, nor is it kind, it simply exists as it is, unable to deviate from what it started as and unable to shift from what it will become; what it will remain to be. Time is a precious constant, one of the few certainties that will persist no matter what.

The sun will rise and fall, as will the moon. The stars will move through the sky as the planet spins, and life will continue with much more grandeur than such small, short things should acquire. Even immortality will crumble before time—your kind of immortality at least. Endlessly, consistently living, until life is taken away.

You had thought you’d made peace with your mortality as a human, yet you suppose each day you still got up with your sisters, still washed and spoke and persisted, still set one foot in front of the other, even if you weren’t conscious of it. Then the other day something like a drop opened up in your path, something that would require more than one foot in front of the other, and you had found yourself jumping.

You had not walked off that ledge; one foot in front of the other hadn’t sufficed.

For less than a minute, the desire to be had been brimming from your fingertips, glowing through your skin and filling you to the point of overflowing. For little less than sixty seconds, you had been confronted with an end, and had moved accordingly. For a few brief moments, absence had loomed before you, dark and terrifying, and you had no want for it.

Where does that put you?

You’d been thrown into a river, and found yourself swimming.

For what?

What was it for?

Peace had been made, acceptance reached, yet sparks had flown, and another life had been taken in place of yours.

Your eyes raise to the sunset orange of his hair, the broad shoulders, the assured and unfaltering strides that carry him forward. The doubtless weight of steel that is set at his hip, the fire that burns in his veins, pure and hot, the sharpened blades that sit readily on his tongue, protected on all fronts. Strength incarnate.

“For someone without flames to harness, you’re burning a hole in the back of my neck fairly well.”

You blink, pulled away from the conflicting whirlpool of thoughts, unaware of the intensity you’d been regarding him with. “I zoned out,” you mumble, attention shifting to the tall walls rising on either side, and you realise he’s led you away from the marketplace. “Where are we going now?” You ask, at last noting the faded noises of other people, now only distant drones. “I told you there are things I am in need of,” he repeats, not looking back, forging onward, so certain the world will not fall out from under his feet. “And these things are down a dark, suspiciously quiet alley?” You ask skeptically, speeding your paces, remaining less than a step behind him. “One of them is,” he answers, leaving it there.

Wariness settles across your bones, eyeing him doubtfully, but continuing on his heel. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go, so you might as well stick with him, within the realms of relative safety.

Eris turns another corner, narrower than the last street, and you even out your breaths. Nobody would do shady exchanges at three in the afternoon. Right?

Doubt unspools in your stomach as you come upon a door in the wall, one that he enters without knocking, and you keep close in the now dim light, a latch clicking behind you. While there is no obvious difference, you get the distinct sense there’s a decline in the pathway, leading deeper into the ground until the tunnel-like walkway opens into a room, lit by flaming braziers. Few things are held within the room, as if constantly on the move and requiring the ability to make an easy exit, should it be needed.

The exchange is over and done with swiftly, a fluid passing of a weighted pouch with a small box, one that Eris pockets seamlessly, turning and leaving without a word being spoken, not even a nod of recognition before you’re following him out again, the hair at the nape of your neck rising with wariness at the strange sequence of events.

Sound returns when you walk out into the air, less menacing than before, open and inviting with its refreshingly crisp bite, and it reminds you slightly of the fresh air of Velaris—its cool nippiness that washes through lungs to pump its users full of freshened life. Life people are desperate to live, taking breath after breath, hauling it down obsessively.

You suppose even if your held your breath, you would eventually find yourself fighting for it, your own choice or not.

Again, your attention drifts to his back, assured and certain. Steady and secure.

Knowingly or not, questions have been sparked within you, questions you’d prefer to understand before being knocked from the world. Questions that will require action on your own part, no longer sitting passively but searching—not in the way you had in the libraries, nor in the ways when you had been trying to summon your magic back in the House of Wind. It would require a fundamental shift in your outlook, one that had only begun to take root in your mind after years of dull buzzing. You’ve always had a fondness for them: questions. Answered or not, the act of seeking more, searching for more is beloved by you. It’s a skill you’ve been practicing, training, sharpening unknowingly but consistently throughout your life. And now, the intrigue and fondness for learning, the desire to understand and develop will now be harnessed inward, the intent aimed at yourself, poised to unravel, learn, and discover.

All over the simple yet surprising act of defence—to protect and preserve. The fight to continue. Breath after breath, one foot in front of the other. The relentless push of life itself. Aware or otherwise, he’s started you down a new road, one that will likely wind and divert, but it’s your duty to stay on track and not fumble.

It’s enough your steps falter, pausing as the market place once again comes into view.

“You said I should be looking about on my own,” you say, not quite a question, but lacking the certainty of a statement. Eris glances over his shoulder, coming to a stop. “If you’d like,” he answers blandly, but you’re too preoccupied by the hurtling path of your own thoughts to wonder at the tone. “There was a stall that caught my eye,” you say cautiously, unsure of what’s coming out of your mouth.

He nods, eyes raising far above, where a large clocktower gazes down upon the courtyard. “Be back here in twenty minutes,” he replies, and you nod, already searching for the way you’d come. “And for the gods’ sake, don’t blow anything up,” he mutters under his breath, just as you pass by.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Breath after breath, one foot in front of the other. No footsteps to follow after.

Pushing forward on your own. Seeking what you want.

Gold and pearl hanging heavy from your lobes.

Too heavy.

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #cbmthy

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spiderlandry · 10 months

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Routine — ethan landry

Description: Ethan feels you slowly drift away as you spend time with another person.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader (they/them pronouns)

Warnings: unedited, kinda wordy, fluff, jealousy, some angst but happy ending

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s note: can u guess who reader’s chem partner is ??

Tradition and routine are important to Ethan Landry. Since you’ve made the decision to have lunch with him every Wednesday at the diner a few blocks from his apartment, he eventually begins to expect you to show up there without a text message. It’s routine, now. It’s a tradition—and he didn’t realize how sacred it was to him until his phone pings with a text from you on a Wednesday:

hey im sorry i cant make it to lunch i got assigned a small project in chem and its partners :/ and we could only find a time for today (ugh) lunch next wednesday?

sorry again. have a good lunch!! dont have too much fun without me tho

He’s not bothered. Why would he be? You sound like you’d rather be with him than working on that project, so he’s flattered in that aspect that you sound somewhat possessive with the, ‘don’t have too much fun’.

It’s not like he’s already at the diner already.

(He was on his way.)

But it’s only a blip in the hundred other moments you spend with him, even if those moments are also spent with other people present.

So he doesn’t take it to heart. Even if his heart slightly aches without you beside him, almost a symptom of withdrawal, which he won’t realize until much, much later.

Ethan often spends time in the main library on Friday nights. He’s not a stranger to the usual people who also spend their time there, there’s not a lot of people because there are better things for a college student to do on Friday nights. Ethan is different. Although, he only started going on Friday nights because midterms are soon and he can’t afford to fail or retake anything.

However, a familiar figure comes into the library next to a tall stranger. You, with some guy, trying to playfully shush him as you enter the quiet space earning some dirty looks from students around.

You lightly slap the stranger’s arm with a grin, and you don’t see Ethan—he’s sitting in a corner and you’re turned away from him.

There’s no denying that the stranger is handsome. Tall, brown hair, somewhat dorky mannerisms but in a charming way. Ethan could be in love with this guy if he himself isn’t so in love with you.

Ethan opts to look down at his work instead, eyes almost unfocused as the thought of losing his chance being brought to the forefront of his mind.

What he doesn’t see a few seconds later, between the shelves, slightly closer to Ethan, you finally spot him. He doesn’t see the way your smile droops slightly, and how the man next to you asks who you’re staring at.

“Oh,” you whisper to your chemistry partner, Peter, “That’s Ethan. The guy I told you about.”

“You’d look good together.” He teases.

You almost kick him jokingly, but he dodges. “Just because I told you my crush doesn’t mean you get to tease me. Plus, if you do, I’ll tell Gwen about yours.”

But of course, this conversation happens outside of Ethan’s earshot. You’re not looking at him anymore, and as he glances up one more time, he only sees the smile directed at that stranger that used to be reserved for him on Wednesday afternoons.

Yeah, I’ve lost my chance, Ethan thinks.

Ethan has decided to spend more time with his friends. It has nothing to do with you, not at all. (It’s not denial.) He lounges in the Carpenter apartment on Saturday night with Chad and Tara. Mindy was also supposed to be there, but texted last minute she can’t make it.

They assure him he’s not third-wheeling, but he definitely is.

But he stops himself before he suggests he can leave. He gives it a chance, because otherwise he would be alone in the dorm—and on a normal occasion he’d leave and call you instead, but he has a feeling your voice will only draw him back to the reliance of your presence. You haven’t talked since Wednesday, since that text message that Ethan believes is the beginning of the end.

Chad notices Ethan’s faraway look, they’re both sitting on the couch while Tara gets a drink from the kitchen.

“You okay, man?” His roommate snaps him out of the daze. “You seem sad.”

“I’m not.” Ethan has answered that too quickly to either of their liking, but it goes unmentioned.

“You can talk to me. If you want.”

Chad’s become more emotionally available since the first time they moved in together, Ethan appreciates that his friend makes an effort even if it seems to take some work. So Ethan humours him.

“Y/N. They’re spending time with this guy and I just—I don’t know.”

Tara comes back with a few sodas, handing one to him and to her boyfriend.

“Y/N?” She echoes, sipping from her drink. “You mean they’re spending time with Peter?”

Ethan realizes maybe he shouldn’t have said anything because Tara’s close to you and if he says something she might say something—

“I won’t tell them.” She says, sensing Ethan’s panic. “They’re just friends, if you’re wondering.”

Chad is grateful for his girlfriend stepping in. She certainly knows more, at least in that respect.

“Aren’t they chem partners, or something?” Chad asks her, wanting to alleviate the tension he can sense on his best friend. He remembers Tara offhandedly mentioning it one time.

(Let’s be honest, anything Tara knows, Chad knows too.)

“Well,” Tara prevents herself from a grimace. “They were partners. Y/N told me they finished the project. So now they’re just friends.”

It has the opposite effect that Chad had wanted.

It only lets Ethan know that it won’t be long until you introduce this Peter to the group as your boyfriend, probably.

“Can we change the subject?” Ethan requests.

He’s thankful as they adamantly jump into another topic about something funny that happened recently, an inkling deep in his soul that they did it on purpose to make him laugh—a hint of relief as he thinks, friendship isn’t that bad. (It’s good.) You and him could still be friends, he thinks. And that’s what he wants, for you to be in his life in any capacity, long as you’d let him.

Sunday nights are movie nights in the Carpenter household. And that tradition is extended to the entire group, including you. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous—his palms are sweating, his legs are bouncing, and his mind is anywhere else besides the present.

You arrive late, and the movie hasn’t started because they’re waiting for you.

Ethan thinks Chad or somebody must have done it on purpose, because the only empty seat on the couch is the one right next to him.

Obviously, you take it. The proximity is almost too much for Ethan, but he’d be a damn liar if he said it didn’t help his anxiety just a little bit. You take away his nerves after they appear in the absence of you. You’re his medicine.

The movie starts and you still don’t say anything to each other. He ignores the looks from Chad and Tara, and you seem to be oblivious to it as you keep your eyes on the television.

By the second movie, you’ve both gotten more comfortable, leaning into each other— and to Ethan’s surprise, you put your head on his shoulder. He looks around and no one notices. Not because they don’t care, but because they’re all asleep.

You fit so perfectly almost as if you’d been like this before, in a different lifetime of another universe.

Unbeknownst to Ethan, you had your own intent coming into this movie night, late on purpose and nerves taking away your courage in the absence of Ethan.

SUNDAY MORNING

Sometimes, you’d invite someone to get coffee with you when mornings were pleasant enough to be with other people.

Today, Tara said she was available to get coffee after you’d sent a text to the group chat asking if anyone wanted to come—so you got coffee with her.

It wasn’t your intention, but still, you end up at her apartment half an hour later, chatting about what’s happened in the week.

Somehow the topic of dating has come up, and Tara rambles about Chad’s funny ideas about dates that you laugh at.

Much to your dismay, the question tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. “How do I know if I’m in love with someone?”

She can’t read your face, it’s blank. But she can read your tone: the layer of uneasiness and worry that you’re trying to hard to bury and keep hidden. She tries her best not to show any emotion, either. Because there could only be two possible answer to the question Tara is about to ask.

“Who are you in love with?”

“Who said I was?” Quick answer, deflect the question.

“You’re thinking it, though.”

“So what if I am?”

And she just decides to lay it on the table. “Is it Peter?”

Your instinct is to laugh, because from your perspective, not a universe exists where you and Peter have any romantic connection. And you say, “Why would it be Peter?”

Tara realizes you’re serious pretty quickly. “Everybody thinks that.”

Your face drops, brows furrow. “Seriously?” Tara nods.

“Does Ethan think that?”

Tara smiles.

She has her answer.

PRESENT

The feeling of being close to him is intoxicating. You snake your hand toward his, playing with it until you loosely begin to hold his hand.

Your hand in mine feels right, he thinks. For a split second, his breath is stolen, but the tiny space between your palms get warm—he can breathe—and the warmness travels throughout Ethan’s body and suddenly he wants to verbalize every unspoken word from each interaction with you, but all words come back to I love you I love you I love you.

But there is one thing.

“What about...” He whispers, gulps. “Peter?”

And that’s when you finally look up at him and he turns his head to face yours—a mistake—you are much too close for his heart not to burst. He can feel your breath and he’s sure you can feel his, and there’s nothing else he can think of as he waits with bated breath for your response.

“Why would I wanna be with him when I want to be with you?”

You say it so casually, so surely, as if you’re certain nothing can take away that statement—that truth—from your grasp. The tone catches him so off guard that his words are lost for a moment.

Your eyes aren’t expectant in that moment, though waiting. You’re patient, as if you know what he’s going to say.

“Will—” he tries to be quiet, “will you go on a date with me?” Your smile gets impossibly wider and it mirrors his.

“Always.”

Tara, laying next to Chad nearby—pretending to be asleep—suppresses a grin of her own.

Additional A/N: personally i think their first date is at the diner !! and the diner staff see the progression of their relationship every wednesday lol and yes the chem partner is peter parker (specifically had andrew’s peter in mind, i think that’s clear with the ‘tall’ if not the gwen part LMAO)

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream #scream vi #scream 6 #ethan landry fluff #scream x reader #scream 6 x reader #jack champion

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dilfsfordinner · 5 months

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a/n- yeah, i’m still not over the leaks

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“-it funny. Just the idea of Annabeth trying to sit quietly and draw all day,” you spoke into the quiet atmosphere of your bedroom, a queasy Megumi nuzzled into the valley of your chest, little sniffles coming from him as you read a chapter from one of his favorite books.

A heavy comforter was thrown atop your bodies, his body supplying more than enough heat on its own, but the doctor said warmer was better anyway, especially when cold sweats would pelt his form simultaneously. “Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them dow-”

“I thought Athena was the war one,” came a scratchy voice to your right, the usual teasing tone Gojo used with you gone from his arsenal, replaced by the signature rasps of a sore throat. Looking up from your book, you turned to look upon your very sick lover, his blue eyes red and shot from fatigue, slow blinks indicating he was genuinely awaiting your answer.

A sympathetic smile pulled at your lips as you just nodded and pulled him closer, his soft hair tickling the skin of your neck as he rested the back of his head against your shoulder, his long form sinking down the bed, hip just below your hip, side to your side.

“Then why would she like architects,” he mumbled, eyes closing to get his much-needed rest, relaxation melting his limbs before a jab was dealt to his side, ribs aching from a tiny elbow, its little bone just sharp enough to knock a cough out of him.

“Listen,” came Megumi’s irritated response, the boy clearly too tired to put up with your lover’s antics, huffing as he nestled back into the comfort of your arms, which used his back as a makeshift table, holding the book up once more to continue reading.

Stifling a laugh at the scowl you knew was gracing Gojo’s features at the moment, you read to your makeshift patients, trying your best to mediate between them and keep the peace whenever a petty argument rose.

…

“… I am Thalia,’ the girl said, ‘Daughter of Zeus’”.

Closing the book with a contented sigh, you peeked down to find Megumi sleeping soundly, his pale face finally gaining a flush of color after days of palidity. Combing his hair away from his forehead, you tested his temperature with the back of your hand, your hope for his recovery short-lived as his skin felt as scalding as ever.

“Fuck,” you whispered, worry for the little boy lying on top of you building as you imagined how bad he must feel and the fact that you couldn’t cure him on your own.

“He’ll be okay,” came that scratchy voice again, a warm hand rubbing smooth circles on your thigh, Gojo sensing your racing thoughts of desperation, could tell from your shift in mood alone that you were scared Megumi’s sickness could possibly get even worse.

“I promise,” he added, his own fingers carding through Megumi’s silky hair this time, the two of you watching the young boy, his uneven inhales slightly evening out at the feeling of his “father’s” touch.

The sight had the worry sitting in your chest dissipating, if only for a moment, and you relaxed back against the headboard, nodding to acknowledge that you trusted him, trusted that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Megumi.

“Besides, we’re unkillable, love” he somehow purred, rough voice aside. An incredulous scoff bubbled out of you at his comment, shaking your head in disbelief at Gojo’s pure nonchalance, his own laugh slipping from his lips. Once again, Satoru Gojo knew exactly what to say to push buttons, the only difference being that it was an adult elbow jamming into his side this time.

——————————————————————————

#can you guess what my favorite series was when i was little #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x female reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #dad gojo #baby megumi #megumi fluff #jjk x fem!reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader

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wannabe-cartoonist-blog · 8 days

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Last Game hair style fixes, in order of who needed it most.

I've never liked the canon hair styles in Last Game. They're either hideous, or just simply don't fit the characters/style of the main series. I get its a (mostly different) art department and meant to age the characters up, but most of the time, they simply just look off-model to me. I know I'm not the only one who's got issues with the hairstyles in this movie too, so I did my best to fix them up and give them styles that I personally think suite them. Originals below cut as well as my explanations! Important to note, these are my preferences/headcanons for them so take everything I'm about to say with a grain of salt.

**Akashi isn't here, because believe it or not, I actually think his hair looks the best out of everyone in LG.

I wouldn't change it. I like to draw him with neater hair/his bangs pushed out of his face when I age him up, but for the summer after the Winter Cup - when LG takes place - the canon hair is exactly the sort of style I think he would/should have. I like the allegory that the rough chop is something he did when his mental health wasn't good, so now as his mental scars heal, it's growing back out. ❤️

Midorima

A neater/shorter hairstyle does fit Mido's character/personality, but the LG hair simply just doesn't look like the same hair type we see in the main series. Mido's hair has got the slightest wave to it (which I tend to over-exaggerate whenever I draw him).

With this in mind, I went and gave his hair some more body/volume by extending the sides. (You'll see a lack of volume/body is the key issue with the other LG hairs as well).

Murasakibara

Mura's hair in this movie looks so so flat and greasy. Now I didn't do the best job fixing it up, but this is basically how you'd go about doing it; just add more flowy strands. His hair is pretty pin-strait in canon, but there's lots of flowing strands, even when he's not moving much, which give it a clean-look.

When it's all just one limp form, like the movie does, it appears unclean as opposed to just long and sleek.

Momoi

Another victim of the lack of body/volume. The style they gave her is also simply bad, like she just took a pair of scissors and cut in a straight line. There isn't even really any style to it. Its kinda just laying there on her head, which is not what her hair usually looks like in the main series. There's always strands/some lift to it. Also Momoi has always had some sort of bangs/framing pieces in her face, so for her whole forehead to be out was just a tiny bit jarring.

I think the style I came up with is a little more mature while still having personality and life to it. Plus, LG takes place in the summer, so a shorter hair style would be more comfortable in the heat.

Kise

Kise I don't think I did a good job of fixing to my liking either. It was hard to edit it without making it look bad in general, because I really don't think this choppy sort of style suites him like at all, so it was too much to change. Now his hair is one of the better drawn ones in this movie for sure, but it feels more like a Kagami hairstyle than a Kise one to me. I just don't think his modeling agency would let him have such a choppy, hard-to-style haircut. I also think a more polished look fits his handsome, princely sort of appeal that makes him popular with girls.

Aomine

Alright, now its time for me to be playful and silly with some out-there hair styles. Aomine (and Kagami's hair) in Last Game I don't mind. After Akashi, I would say Aomine looks the best. BUT. We have NEVER seen Aomine with long hair, even in flashbacks when he's a child.

So for him to finally decide to grow out his hair - in the SUMMER HEAT - just feels like a weird move to me. Feels out of character. He strikes me as someone who likes his hair out of his face when he plays ball and just wants to roll out of bed and not worry about brushing/styling it or anything. The animators also aren't consistent in this movie and sometimes his hair looks particularly long in the front and back, which again, I don't think he'd like. This picture below and the ones above are from the same movie/take place within like a week of each other, yet look so different.

He looks cute and it definitely gives him a more youthful look; which is a weird choice, because they want to age up everyone else but Aomine in this movie. So, I think a fade would really suite him (I don't think I drew it that well tho). Keeps his hair short and out of his face but also ages him up a little more with a mature style.

Kagami

Alright, Kagami's look here is pure indulgence. @knbposting said "Kagami with a mullet" and I haven't stopped thinking about it. Sue me. His LG hair isn't bad and makes sense for his character and the time of year. But its just sorta plain. Honestly, Kise's hair style in this movie would probably suite Kagami more. I always liked how in the main series, Kagami's hair is a little scruffy in the back so I really wanted to lean into that.

Is a mullet suitable for the summer heat/something he'd like? Well, maybe not but I think it ages him up while also seeming like something he'd get at some point in his life. So here we are. I will end this with saying this is probably the longest he'd ever let his hair get.

Kuroko

Finally, we have Kuroko, whose hair I've barely changed. Now, the animators/artists do a really bad job of keeping his face on-model (eyes too beady, features too sharp) but that's a whole 'nother issue, and I managed to find a scene where they kept him on-model lol. I think a shorter, neat style is good for the summer and suites him, but a main feature of all the hair throughout the main series is the spikes/strands of hair on nearly every character - Kuroko especially - so I just added a tiny bit more here.

And that's the end! If you read all the way to here, thanks for coming to my insane-person rant.

#kuroko no basket #kuroko's basketball #knb last game #kagami taiga #kuroko tetsuya #aomine daiki #kise ryōta #akashi seijuro #akashi seijurou #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou #murasakibara atsushi #momoi satsuki #kise ryouta #generation of miracles #kiseki no sedai #wannabeartw0w #wannabespeaks

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k-atsukibakugou · 6 months

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this was like 10000% inspired by @katsukikitten's post of being just friends with kami and 😖😖

warnings: oral f!recieving, alcohol/drinking mention, kaminari rationalising that oral isn't sex if theres no penetration lmao, i wrote this in a blind frenzy seeing that post im sorry if its bad LMAO

you're always going out on not-dates with him, laughing and talking until your throat is sore and your voice is nearly gone, years of inside jokes never leaving a break in conversation before you'd burst into fits of giggling once more.

after yet another not-date with your best friend, the both of you were dropping onto his couch, your limbs splayed about, his lanky limbs tangled in yours and his head laying on your thigh, absentmindedly drawing shapes on your skin. with both of your stomachs full of gelato and eyes half lidded watching the movie in front of you.

your heart jumps into your chest when his lips brush over your thigh, your muscle tensing under his gentle, intimate touch, "you alright?"

you'd nod of course, kami had kissed you before, albeit not in quite as sensitive spot as he was now, and usually after a couple of drinks at parties. he'd mumble against your skin how soft you are, how he loves touching you, every low sentence he spoke having your heart beating harder against your sternum, needing to focus on where your hands were to not bury them in his hair.

"yeah, kami, friends kiss all the time, right?" you repeat what you both say every time you see him after another drunken kiss, both of you laughing and dismissing the tension in the air between you. he hums in agreement, twisting his body to lay on his stomach between your thighs, face nuzzling against soft skin, his fingers trailing higher up to your hips. he fiddles with the button for a moment, watching your eyes glaze over the longer he touches you.

"you and i do everything together," you watch him, nodding and humming when he speaks, well aware you both do things with each other you'd do with no one else, but neither one of you brave enough to even think the word 'relationship', hushed, he whispers against your skin, popping the button of your pants as he speaks, "if this is gonna change us, say it and we can pretend this didn't happen."

instead, you lift your hips, helping his nimble fingers tug your pants off your hips, dropping them beside the couch you'd spent countless nights on so far, never once like this, exposed, beneath your closest friend since high school. he sat still for a moment, waiting for you to tell him to turn around and finish the movie, to tell him you guys are just friends. you don't. your fingers delicately bury themselves in his hair, apprehension melting between the pair of you, simmering into something different, the same thing shared between you when you snort at his jokes, or when he doubles over, hands on his knees in a fit of laughter, or when you're scowling at him in his tiny kitchen for him to quit stealing your food.

finally, his tongue darts out of his mouth, wet tip dragging over your cotton-covered skin, the fabric doing nothing to weaken the pleasure he brought you, your soft moans had him diving in once more, tentatively flattening his tongue on the wet fabric, licking up from where your ass was sat on the couch, to your clit once more.

kaminari had you jumping, his touch doing more for you than any toy stuffed away in your bedroom, or any fling you'd had, his tongue expertly pulling you closer to an orgasm without even as much as moving your panties out of his way. panting above him, you dug your fingers into his hair, simultaneously lifting your hips to meet his tongue, whispered pleads falling from your lips between whimpers of his name until you're nearly yelling it when the wet spot on your underwear grows darker, your pussy clenching around nothing when he groans against your skin, feeling the way your thighs twitch around him, his eyes nearly black watching your face contort into an expression entirely new to him, but easily becoming his favourite, the pleasure he bestowed on you too obvious for even him to miss.

he stares at you with his tongue lazily swirling over your wet underwear until your knees close, pushing him away from your throbbing clit, panting a blind praise of how amazing that was. your heart was beating out of your chest when you finally build the courage to look back down at him, swollen pink lips, dark eyes, but the same kaminari as always staring back at you with a lopsided smile.

the same kaminari that would reassure you in the morning that its just what friends do.

@aquadenks ur boy <3

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

#divider by me #in my mind #hes like thinking it doesnt count bc he didnt PROPERLY eat u out so its okay lmao #hes like nah were just friends #hes NERVOUS OKAY #HE DOESNT WANNA BE THE ONE THAT “RUINS” THE FRIENDSHIP #denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #tw: alcohol #「mercury writes」#「denki」

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batbeato · 2 months

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A 'skill' I've ended up honing is a sense of the various art styles of the Umineko manga artists. Generally when I see a panel I can tell what episode it's from based on either context, it being an often-posted panel, or even just... how it's drawn.

Episode 1, 3, and 8 are drawn by Natsumi Kei! Natsumi Kei doesn't draw Battler with his vest. She has a specific way of drawing eyes (for example, drawing Beato's with no/little shading) and Battler's hair is super spiky. She draws Beatrice's dress as entirely black besides the pattern, with some white parts for shading/lighting - a trait which most of the Umineko artists share She also has a tendency towards some fanservice angles/poses (such as that oft-memed panel that shows off Eva's ass while she's raging at her misogynistic brother/family).

She likes to do these 'close-up' shots to show off detailed expressions.

She also draws Beato's eyes with blonde eyelashes! So pretty... A lot of the Umineko manga artists draw Beatrice with blond eyelashes, which always seem so delicate when they do the detailed close ups.

The EP2 mangaka, Jiro Suzuki, contrasts Natsumi Kei a lot. They use heavier shading at times, and their anatomy is also different - I often get the impression that their Beato is more broad-shouldered, while their Battler is more skinny. Like a twig.

From this panel, you can really get the impression of 'glowing' in a way that you can't get from Natsumi Kei's work.

In general, their style has a lot more detail for things like face and hair. Just like Natsumi Kei, they draw Beato with blonde eyelashes, though they interpret Battler's hair differently.

Battler's clothes feel very flowy, which adds to the sense of him being very skinny. Just like Natsumi Kei, Battler is drawn without his vest. I feel as though there's a sharpness to the joints.

EP4 is drawn by Soichiro! A return to spikier Battler hair. I feel like they tend towards narrower, sharper eyes.

Soichiro has a certain way of paneling... It relies a lot on very similar-looking boxes. They're generally all the same shape, and often the same size. Some examples:

As you may have noticed, Battler is still bereft of his vest. It's probably a choice all of these mangakas made in order to simplify his design.

...I would also like to submit for your consideration the travesty that is the paneling in this page. It's... a bit confusing to follow. This is a tendency in their style - sometimes the emphasis, paneling, etc. isn't quite right. They're a great artist, but I get the feeling that they weren't quite accustomed to this medium at the time of drawing.

EP5 is drawn by Akitaka.

Akitaka is one of my favorite Umineko manga artists by the sheer virtue of the fact that Akitaka restores Battler's vest to its proper place: on his body. Battler's hair is still spiky, but it's a different, sometime toned-down interpretation. The way they shade his hair feels really unique to me - a mix of the usual screentones with some black sections (depending on the angle and level of detail). In general I feel like Akitaka works a lot with screentones to add a lot of shading to their panels.

Rather than using pure black for Beatrice' dress, it's a mix of black and screentones. Part of this is for lighting, but it also allows Akitaka to show a lot more details for the dress, which the artists who use primarily black for the dress can't do.

Akitaka also has some really detailed expressions. They manage to bring a lot of character to even the 'dead' Beato.

EP6 is drawn by Hinase Momoyama. Battler's vest, the most important character in Umineko, triumphantly remains. However, Battler's hair is less spiky and more slicked-down. Like Akitaka, there are often black sections of it, but these are more often at the front, rather than the back, of the head.

Beatrice's dress varies from "mostly black" to "mostly screentones" in EP6. Elder Beatrice, however, has these very detailed and eye-catching ruffles to her skirt. She is also drawn with sharper eyes and expressions than Chick Beatrice, who is wide-eyed and has very flowy princess sleeves on her dress.

Battler comes off as super cute when he's angry, rather than something more menacing or serious, as he does in Natsumi Kei's art. For comparison: (EP6, then EP8)

This is probably a result of how Natsumi Kei draws 'sharper', while Momoyama uses rounder shapes.

EP7 is drawn by Eita Mizuno, who is a saint for managing to draw beautifully for all NINE volumes. NINE. A saint.

They draw Beatrice's dress primarily with screentones, and have very bright, wide eyes.

They use a lot of texture with their screentones, which gives their art a unique feel amongst the artists for the manga.

I'd also like to have a special shout out to this page. The way the art style shifts in the final panel to reflect Lion's shock and horror is an incredible use of the medium. This artist really seems to like these horizontal spreads, but they use the space well.

More masculine characters like Will have narrower eyes, though the pupils/light isn't that different. While characters with light hair like Lion have no screentones for their hair, Will receives a healthy mix: primarily black, with some screentone highlights. Of course, light-haired characters will have screentoned hair depending on the lighting, but in bright lighting, Lion has entirely white hair.

...Also, Battler has once more lost his vest. At least his hair is spiky again...?

That covers all the main mangaka, but there's also the mangaka for the side manga, Tsubasa: Fumi Ito. Their art is really cute and suits the often-comedic stories well. The small highlights they put in hair feels characteristic of their style. They often draw characters with wide, round, bright eyes.

Battler's hair spikiness is toned down (so fluffy...) and his vest returns for the final time. A true blessing.

This is just a super brief overview of it all - there's a lot of characters whose varying depictions I didn't mention, I didn't really talk about how they do backgrounds, and plenty of other things. But Umineko has a lot of talented artists who worked on it, and many of them still sometimes post fanart (or new official art) for the series!

I feel like we should appreciate the amazing range of artists who have done their best to interpret Umineko's story. They all did a great job!

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni #manga #umineko spoilers #just in case since I grabbed panels from everywhere

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flammingnachos · 7 months

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𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠(opla!zoro x fem!reader

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; you were the girl that joined the straw hats crew after giving them a great plan to beat arlongs crew, you’ve captivated him, making him unable to get you off his mind even though you have only just met him, he can already feel a strong connection and desire to be with you

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈; best man zoro, slight cursing, protective zoro, perverted Sanji, disclaimer; this takes place after the straw hats defeat arlong and are on there way to the grand line AFTER telling each other about there goals

Everything happened so fast, you certainly didn’t think you would leave your village with your parents to join some straw hat crew that helped out your people from arlongs power

All you’ve wanted to do was help out the gang of pirates with arlong and be about your way and ignore a certain green haired pirate that wouldn’t keep there eyes off you the whole journey

Now your here leaning against the going merry, watching the sunset and the birds fly as your captain was on top of the head of the boat enjoying it too

Nami was in her usual place in the decks office drawing away her map, Usopp doing god knows what I’m the back, Sanji cooking and Zoro taking his usual nap by the railing

I’ve taken quite the liking to the swordsman as he speaks to me and Nami with a much more different approach rather than the captain and the cook

Nami would always tease me and say that he’s been giving me love eyes ever since the day I joined and that he’s more kinder to me than to her

That’s nonsense he knew her before me

We’ve had conversations here and there nothing too big as I always seem to catch him during the late nights when I couldn’t get any self

There was one moment in particular of where we’ve nearly went intimate but I had to remind myself he doesn’t see my that way but his new crewmate

It was another late night on the going merry, another day with me getting nightmare about leaving my parents behind so I came out to the deck to breathe some fresh air

Everyone is usually sleep during this time so I didn’t expect to see zoro standing by the railing look out

“Couldn’t get any sleep either” he mumbled out

“Nah mother nightmare” I confessed walking over to where he was as he turned to me

“About?” He asked furrowing his eyebrows

“I’ve been thinking that maybe joining this crew wasn’t the best thing I did” I said looking out into the sea

“Why do you think so” he asked

I looked over at him and then back at the ocean

“You guys don’t know if arlong is truly defeated he’s a fish man after all I’m…just scared that maybe I left them there and it still isn’t ..safe” I whispered out feeling a bit unsure in myself

“Are you kidding, you joining the crew was the best thing that we ever had-”

I looked over at him with awe, a smile making its way onto my face

he stopped himself slightly as he cleared his throat

“I-i mean your a really good strategiest, we needed one with all the shitty plans we’ve made in the past that couldn’t really help us” He said in a more monotone voice

Just when I thought he was expressing himself

I nodded my head sucking in a breath of air as I looked back over on to the ocean

“Your right, you guys needed a good strategist for the team and picked the person with the most fucked up life” I mumbled out

His eyes went wide to realization seeing how his words affected me

“Wait no that’s not what I-” He tried to explain

I shaked my head turning my heel to leave zoro alone since he really wasn’t helping much

Before I could fully walk away he grabbed my wrist making me freeze unable to move

“Listen.. I don’t really do these pep talks with the rest of the crew when they don’t feel value in themselves..” He then said

I turned my head looking deeply at him in the eyes

“I can see” I giggled in which he only smiled

“Luffy doesn’t pick anyone to join his crew, he picks the one’s he knows that are the best of the best no matter the background..”

“I don’t usually agree with everything he does but you joining the team was something he didn’t even have to repeat for me to be aboard with it” he finished off looking at me in the eyes and then my..lips

“Oh” I rasped out as our faces started to inch closer to one another

Our breath fanning on top one another’s face’s..

We were almost close to kissing just one more step forward and our lips would have collapsed onto each other

he shaked his head mumbling something to himself while backing away slightly

I looked at him confused

“I’m sorry..Goodnight” He then said backing away and then hurrying back down in the where everyone’s room where at leaving me there dumbfounded

And ever since that day I couldn’t help to notice zoro always avoiding me, whenever he came in the kitchen and saw Sanji flirting with me per usual he would hurry out

At nighttime when he thought I wouldn’t notice or feel a presence behind me I did and when I did turn around no one was there

That day has been stuck on my mind

“a beautiful drink for a beautiful lady” singed out Sanji as he gave me another drink he made for me and Nami

“Thank you” I smiled out in which he blushed giving the heart eyes as usual

“Anything for a beautiful woman like yourself” he expressed out

“Hey! Where’s my drink” Luffy yelled out from on top of the going merry

Sanji rolled his eyes walking away

“You’ll have to wait” He yelled back waking back into the kitchen

I only laughed while taking a sip

But from the corner of my eyes I saw Zoro get up out his sleeping spot mumbling out something as he made his made to where our rooms where at

I just shrugged it off as something else

Maybe I should talk to him after all this has been going on far too long now..some point we gotta own up to what we did

…

I tossed and turned in my bed, before finally opening my eyes and looking up at the ceilings

Another night of me getting no sleep

I sighed getting up to do what I normally do, making my way out to the deck but to my surprise zoro was there first completely unaware of my presence or so I thought

“still having nightmares” he asked out looking into the sea while leaning pressed infront of the railings of the going merry

“No..just not tired” I responded back slowly inching closer to him

“Oh..well I’ll just leave you to it” he said taking a huff of air turning around to walk away before I stopped him

“You’ve been avoiding me..”

“Why?” I asked

he stayed quiet

“If it’s about what happened with us then at some point we gotta own up to it and-” before I could even finish zoro had grabbed my face pressing our lips together as we shared a passionate kiss

Our lips roughly moved against each other as I our tongues fought for dominance over reach other’s his obviously winning

I pulled away quickly as I was starting to get out of breath

I took heavy breaths looking at him frantically

“What-” I tried asking out but he cut my off again

“The reason I’ve been avoiding you is because of my feelings towards you..I know we’ve only meet a couple of weeks now and you we haven’t fully introduced ourselves but being with you just makes me feel like…” he took a deep breath

“Like we’ve knew each other life times ago, I don’t know what keeps pulling me closer and closer to you to the point where you’ve been the only thing on my mind day and night day and night but I..”

“Guess I only avoided my feelings because I wasn’t sure if you’ve actually felt the same way, especially since the way how that dumb cook would have flirt with you” He grumbled out taking another deep breath looking down onto the floor

I was amazed

I think I felt tears start to come out my eyes

I was completely speechless I didn’t know what to say to him in this moment

He must have noticed my quietness and looked up

I pulled him into another kiss this time with more love and passion pulling away after some moments

“Yes..I-i like you too zoro” I whispered out looking at him deeply in the eyes

He smiled

That beautiful smile

“Then let’s go back to bed shall we” he asked with that beautiful smile of his

I smiled back and he gave me a peck on the lips

“Yeah..”

#one piece #op sanji #opla #opla zoro #zoro x oc #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #nami #one piece usopp #luffy #ronoroa zoro

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safely-in-vhagars-belly · 1 month

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''Fight and Die'' Slightly darkAemond x AFAB Reader 18+ MDNI PART 5

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, abusive brother (but its not aemond) mentioned of forced marriages and duels, mentions of parental loss.

🔷Summary: Your ancestors once betrayed the Targaryens and paid a high price. Now you are back at court with your brother, who hopes to sell you in exchange for his freedom.

🔷Author's note: It might still be a little darkish but not as dark as usual. I think this is the closest to show aemond I ever got. So he still is not a unicorn yall but he is at least imo he is decent and nice.

🔷Wordcount :6524

Warnings below the cut

WARNINGS: Abuse (Not aemond commiting it, Aemond is nice in the fic) brother of OC/Reader is a asshole, mention of pregnancy related deaths (oc's mother) and mentions of Oral sex (f recieving) fingering, and a looooot of angst.

Fight and die 5

Your husband stays by your side during the evening, when the sun begins to settle and when the moon and stars once again entertain and light up the night skies. The two of you nestle in the warm embrace of his bed, with sheets and blankets covering your still naked body, that Aemond caresses and kisses as if he is your devoted servant and you his Goddess. Kisses that tingle and make your belly ache, and kisses you want to last forever and forever more after that. “I've never seen such a beautiful creature.” Aemond breathes against the shell of your ear. ‘’Marrying you was the best choice I ever made.’’ He adds, burying his silver haired head between your legs. You are reminded of how this evening started, with him, wishing to taste you. You were a bit nervous, of course. But he took care of you. As he always has.

You brace yourself by allowing him to kiss the same parts of your body that he took. That he touched before and where he pushed himself inside of you.

The pain always frightened you. But aside from the very first time, your body took it well. Aemond told you early on in your marriage that he would not force you.

Sharing his bed, doing your duties as his wife is fun, enjoyable and a blessing. You feel him draw circles with his fingers on your legs, making eye contact all the while when softly wettening his fingers by sucking on them. You let out a soft pitched appreciative cry.

He smiles, bending a bit further and soon you feel his warm, soft tongue lick over your smooth and wet entrance. Aemond moans against your skin, taking a deeper lick, his tongue tasting and taking away all the wetness you have. You clench yourself, your needs increasing as Aemond keeps licking.

‘’Such a delicate, delicious delicacy you guard between your legs.’’ He mutters, between your soft gasps and moans. ‘’I can do this all day long.’’ He promises, darkly and levels his tongue back at your entrance, proving his words with a possessive soft lick.

‘’I’m not sure I can.’’ You breathe out, shakingly. Your pleasure is building fast and you can barely handle it. Whenever you are near, you become a bit shy and embarrassed, as you are not so sure yet how to properly do this.

When Aemond took you, you were a maiden. Pure and uneducated in the way of pleasures. Now you know a bit more, but you and Aemond take it slow.

Your fingers dig in the sheets of his bed as the licks become soft kisses and eventually he is sucking your needy skin as you twist on his bed, your emotions and desire running higher and higher.

‘’Hmm,’’ Aemond murmurs after watching your flustered face with a dark appreciative smirk. ‘’My wife and my lady is just so delicious. I can’t help it.’’ He says, as if he excuses himself.

You know he is teasing.

‘’You are …delicious too.’’ You say, wishing to compliment him back.

Your free hands find his arms, gently touching him. You kissed Aemond before but never bothered to actually take notice of what his lips taste like. ‘’Hmm, I’m not so sure.’’ Aemond says, honest. ‘’Men taste different than women.’’ You want to ask him more about that. You avoided the subject with your brother. Sex was not for pleasure. It was to make heirs and to gain territorial ground.

But with Aemond, your husband…you are curious. How does a man taste? How does a woman please him, properly? Do you do it well as you do, or does Aemond want more excitement and fun?

‘’How does a man taste?’’ You whisper softly. You get no response. You curse yourself. You likely were too soft and he didn't even hear your question. And you don't want to know how a man tastes. You want to know how he tastes.

You lift his chin gently, interrupting his sucking. ‘’How do you taste?’’ You ask him, without missing a beat. Aemond's lips glinster with your wetness and juice as he licks them clean, watching your face speechlessly at your question.

‘’You wish to know that?’’ He asks, his voice a few octaves lower than usual, anticipation and pure lust creeping in.

Despite that he saw you naked and touched you where no one ever did, and despite you calling him your husband, the act still makes you a bit shy. ‘’Perhaps.’’ You calmly reply.

Aemond rubs your legs.

‘’You think you are ready for such things?’’ He wonders out loud. You wonder the same thing. These things take time to learn, time and trust. You are taking things slow with your husband. You two regularly lay together but trust, it is another thing entirely.

You hope to slowly build it with Aemond, stone for stone and wall for Wall until a strong foundation lays at your feet. But your mind, however…

It is curious. Aemond fed it with delicious forbidden things. He teaches you that having sex is a pleasure, not a duty and a burden. He made you appreciate it in ways you never thought possible and that makes you curious for what awaits you both. ‘’What sort of things?’’

Prince Aemond takes a good look at your shimmering wetness, perhaps avoiding eye contact that way as the words that leave his lips are soft and gently spoken as a secret he is hiding. ‘’Pleasuring me.’’

At first you are intrigued. Until you hear your self esteem tell you that you apparently don't do a good job at pleasuring him at all, or else he wouldn't have asked for more. And that makes you a horrible nervous wreck for when your brother comes, as pleasuring the prince was your only task. ‘’Don’t I already bring you pleasure?’’ You quickly mutter.

‘’Yes, more than you know.’’ That brings you relief. He is pleased. You do well. He continues however. ‘’But, you made it sound as if you were curious about more ways to bring me pleasure. Perhaps more ways…’’

His thumb and finger rub your nipples, as his other hand smoothly disappears between your legs, to where you need his fingers. He starts to level them inside of you, grabbing hold of you as you allow his fingers to take you. ‘’For yourself to reach more pleasure.’’ You gasp.

‘’I’m not sure I can handle such ways.’’ You confess. “I'm already at my limit with what I can handle.” He chuckles, adoring you clearly, perhaps you, perhaps the thought he brought you to your limits.

Yet he is gentle with his words, sweet even and considerate. Unlike most men. Unlike most husbands for sure. “You just started this journey. You have much to learn, but I will educate you when you are both mentally and psychically ready for it.” He whispers in your ear, leaving a kiss on your neck. You shiver against him and allow his hands to keep touching you where you desperately need it.

He thinks you can take more. He knows you can handle more. He sees you as a strong thing. ‘’I’ll admit, when I first met you, I thought you were a porcelain doll. One push and you’d shatter.’’ You wait for the compliment. ‘’But, I have gotten to know you and, well… You are not porcelain. You are Valyrian steel.’’ You know of that material. It is said to be strong as nails and nearly unbreakable. It is also lighter yet, making it a perfect weapon. The steel was forged in your ancestral land, where the Targaryens and your family both hailed from.

You feel flattered and beautiful all due to his kind words. But these are more than kind words. When he looks at you, you can see he is sincere in his praise. You wait for his fingers to finish touching you before you top him in an impulse, rolling on top of him and pinning him under you to give him a sloppy messy and needy kiss.

Aemond appreciates it, moving his hands over your back, caressing you as you lay there, feeling his heartbeat close and safe within your grasp.

He pins his hands into your own. You realize you are mirroring the position where you two start when you perform your duties as his wife. He is under for once and you, you are on top.

You feel more heat rise to your cheeks as you try to get off your husband, as this is likely far from what he wants. “I am sorry. I didn't mean to-” You stutter, getting off him as fast as you can.

Prince Aemond is confused, his brows narrowed and his good eye glances up and down your body, clearly worried.

“What is it?’’

You gesture with your hands to his bed and laugh, a bit silly that you acted on such foolish impulses. “A wife is supposed to lay under her husband. Not on top of him.” You say, as your brother has told you many times. ‘’It is known.’’

Aemond remains on the bed, putting his hands behind his head and sighs, deeply. You watch his chest rise and fall, fascinated by the prince’s beauty. Not just his muscles, but his grace. His good eye twitches and sparkles with mischief as he softly smirks, looking at you as if you are his whole world. “What does my wife think of that statement?” You aren’t sure. That is the way things were explained to you. That is the way the world works, in your opinion.

But the way Aemond said it, it changes everything you had known. “It's the truth, isn't it? A man can't…put his…inside her if he's.. not…” Your lips begin to part as Aemond burst into laughter at your statement.

He touches your face, lovingly before he kisses your lips and forehead, caressing it. “I assure you, I'm very flexible. But if you are uncomfortable in this position, or any position, you will tell me and we won't do it anymore. How does that sound?” You are very well aware Aemond could have chosen something else. A wife is a wife and has to obey her husband. Yet Aemond listens to your every wish, every step down the road he has been nothing but kind and gentle.

It makes you worry, because what if Aemond is just acting around you? What if he pretends to be fine, making all these sacrifices and sees women behind your back? What if this is all temporary and a beast is hiding beneath the man? “It's just…I am curious. Do I do well? As a wife?” You ask, sincer.

“As a wife?” He repeats after you.

You force yourself to laugh, trying to appear charming and beautiful.

“Do I bring you pleasure?” You ask, clarifying what you want to know, no must know so badly.

Aemond briefly looks at what is down between his legs, before chuckling softly. ‘’Revaera. You are a Valyrian born, enchanting, stunning, funny and smart woman. And I have only known you for almost a week. I can’t wait to see all the hidden sides that there are to you, I can’t wait to face both joy and doom with you. You make me not only happy, you make me proud to call you my wife.’’

You never have know to take a compliment well, as often, you weren’t complimented at all. You change the subject quickly. “Do you think we'll be in trouble?” You ask, out of the blue. You both denied the royals of this castle by not attending supper. You broke tradition and you insulted the King and Queen. You are sure they have killed for less.

Aemond switches the position of himself, planting himself slightly on top of you, intertwining your fingers lovingly with his own, making eye contact when kissing your lips. “Unlikely. They'll be offended for a few days or weeks at most. They'll get over it.” You hope he is right.

You hear his chuckle. “I'm sure my father didn't even notice I did not attend. So no trouble at all.” He assures you, lowering himself and laying back next to you. You feel him wrap his arms around your body and pull you closer.

You understand he is planning to sleep.

You know you should make use of this moment and seek out your brother to talk with him about the conflicts and the supper you missed. And how and why he is freed from the cage. Someone did that. Someone in this castle, someone with power, freed him. But who? And most importantly: Why?

But the impulse to stay safely within your husband's reach and to keep warm under the sheets of his bed, that impulse is too big for you to fight.

If you are so duty bound to your house, why do you feel as a whole other person when Aemond is near? He makes you want to take risks you never thought of taking. You never would have defied or rejected supper with the King and Queen before.

Next to you your husband snores gently and it is a comforting noise to you. You settle down next to him, and let sleep take you as well.

☆☆☆

“Revaera. Wake up, my love.” You hear your husband's voice gently as you open your eyes. A new day has arrived and a sunny one at that. Aemond sits on the bed near you, already dressed in his usual leather coat and pants.

You size him up, your smile fading as you understand he is heading out. “Are you going somewhere?” He likely is. And that terrifies you. You'll be alone and powerless without him by your side.

He nods, confirming your worst fears. He gently pats the sword he carries around.

“Practicing my swordfighting. I didn't want to leave you without telling you, however. That seemed…” He trials off. “A bit ill suited.” He did so before, and hearing his voice you know he is ashamed and apologizes for that mistake.

When you two first slept together, when he won you and when you two consummated the marriage. Yet you never once regretted sleeping with him. He was kind, gentle and respectful. It was unlike anything you'd imagine it would be. It was pleasant.

“I know you have your duties, but thank you for thinking about me.” But that horrible feeling of helplessness grows and grows, eating away at your confidence.

The prince chuckles. “I'll think of you, whether I want that or not. You're on my mind quite often.” You hope he means that as a compliment. Aemond seems to see your worried face so he quickly adds with a blink or a wink (it is Aemond after all): “In a pleasant manner.”

You can't fight the smile that his words bring you. That he thinks of you so often is a good sign. Your relationship is improving, you hope.

Finally, Aemond speaks.

“Revaera.’’

“Yes?”

He opens his mouth and closes it, as if unsure how to start this conversation.

“What are your plans?” you freeze. Plans. He knows. He heard of Fyrand’s plans, whatever it is they are.

You try to ease your panicked voice and your fingers that itch away at your skin.

“My plans? I don't have any plans?” You nervously blurt out.

Aemond smiles, chuckling softly. “No, I meant…for today. When I'm absent. What will you do? How will you entertain yourself?”

You ease your nerves, telling yourself he has not have one clue what you and your brother are planning. You have the feeling that Aemond is smarter than he appears, and likely sooner or later will find out.

But for now, you do have a good question to answer. How will you entertain yourself? Aemond is your husband, and besides him, you haven’t made any friends or allies at the castle. You could always swarm around, but you doubt it would end in someone befriending you.

In truth: Being outside this room terrifies you. You are worried about running into the King, the Queen and having to face them after you and your husband missed dinner. There’s also the chance that more servants have heard how you are responsible for the death of two servants. And they already didn’t like you.

You want to stay in Aemond’s room, waiting patiently by his bed until he returns and you can warmly nestle back in his arms again, where he will protect you from the cruelty and cold of this world.

“I-”

You think. “I might help Dyana with folding the laundry.” You think it is a good, productive and kind way to help your maid out and to help your husband as well.

But all Aemond does is shake his head the moment you have spoken out your thoughts. He does not approve of your plans. “I don't want that for you. You are my Lady, my princess. My wife…’ He caresses your face. “You are not my slave or my whore. You are not forced to remain within these four walls when I am gone.” He ends his sentence with a disbelieving chuckle.

He continues, grabbing hold of your hands so he may caress your wrists. You understand he does so to feel your heartbeat. Proof that you are alive and real. “You should find something fun, something that excites you and something that brings you joy. A hobby, perhaps.” He suggests, kindly but it terrifies you regardless. A hobby. He wants to distract you.

Is it because he cares so much, or is it because he is worried you might be plotting something after all? Is he aware?

You never had time for hobbies or entertainment. Fyrand made sure of that. And starting one now, outside of these rooms, in halls filled with people who hate you, without Aemond, it sounds…

Terrifying.

“I never had much of a hobby. There wasn't time for that in Pentos.” You say, dismissevely.

Aemond murmurs something, but grabs your hands tighter. “You are not in Pentos now, love. You are here. With me. We have a big library, a kennel filled with dogs and even a garden with herbs. Painting, writing, singing. It's all yours, darling.” He really wants you to find a hobby.

You are a bit afraid of dogs, so you won’t be doing that, ever. And singing, you aren’t sure Aemond knows, but you can’t sing at all. And painting, you paint your own fingers more than you paint any canvas. “That sounds..expensive. What if I drop the paint, what if the dog runs away or if the glass shatters when I start singing?” You blurt out, your thoughts leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

He laughs, amused thinking you are jesting. “The dogs are very loyal and very used to this lifestyle. It is unlikely they will even entertain that thought. Paint I can easily replace that myself for you, and I'm not sure I ever heard of a glass breaking due to poor singing.’’

He simply smiles and you know he won’t give up this matter any time soon and won’t leave this room until you have given him a proper answer. “I know what you say, Aemond. I do. It's just…For years I've been alone in a cold castle and …you are my light in the darkness. My safety net. Without you, I feel like I'm drowning.” You whisper.

His smile softens and he kisses you once more. ‘’I am not sure what this is between us. There's something there, a seed that needs to be protected. I want to watch it grow; if you do as well.” He studies your face, so you give a nod. You do.

He continues, however and gently gives you a slight push in the direction he wants your relationship to go. “But I know, it is your best interest to start learning how to stand on your own two feet.”

“How do I get the servants to obey me? They all hate me for what that blasted ancestor of mine did.” You scowl, anger getting the better of you.

Yet he seems confident that in time, all will be alright. “You'll learn in time. You already made a friend here. The servant girl will be at your disposal today. The one you convinced me to save.”

You know he made it clear why he wanted them hanged. They dared to question your virtue, therefor any children you and Aemond will have in the future. It is high treason, and Targaryens have one answer to high treason: Death.

But you feel, deep inside, that you must give it one last chance to change his mind for the better. To try to save two necks from a rope. “Did you by any chance perhaps change your mind on the others?” You ask, sweetly and unintentionally you notice you rub his hands.

His lips slowly rise, as he kisses your hands. “You are too good for this world. Too pure and too kind.” He gets up from the bed, pushing you softly aside. Rejected, you watch him.

He walks a few steps in his rooms, thinking. He continues, folding his hands on his back whenever he makes a tough choice and you know he did not change his mind at all. “But no. I did not.”

There is something final in his voice, and you understand you mustn't bring up the matter again, as it will likely cause an argument between the two of you. “I, I wish it was different but..if it's truly so dangerous for our lives and our future…” You trial off, scratching your itching skin. “Our future heir, then I accept your choice, Aemond. I trust you with this.”

Your husband sighs deeply, clearly relieved. ‘’Thank you for seeing it from my point of view. I don't enjoy spilling blood or killing. But this is an insult we must and cannot let stand.” He continues. “I wish to kiss you. Do you want me to do that?”

You laugh, finding it a little silly that he asks. He is your husband, he fucked you, he owns you, in a way. “I'm your wife.”

He does not react to that, remaining resilient. “Yes or no. Are you in the mood for a kiss? Do you want me to touch you?”

You nod, but he is not moving so you give him a verbal proper answer.

“Yes.” Aemond rejoins you on his bed, giving you a soft but loving kiss that makes your stomach flutter.

You grin, brightly and whisper in his ear. “I like our kisses.”

He kisses you again, grinning just as madly as you do. “Our. I like the sound of that.”

You notice he is eying his sword again, and understand he is soon leaving your side. Aemond leaves the bed, but you yank him back by his leg, begging him with your eyes. “Please be careful.”

He nods, smiling gently at you. “I always am. Ser Criston is a respected and skilled swordsman. He would never let any harm come to me or to Aegon.” You haven’t heard much about either Ser Criston Cole or Aegon but you hope Aemond knows what he is doing. He won the duel for your hand. That has got to mean something.

You are glad he dropped the hobby matter. “I'm glad you say that. That eases my worries.” You say.

Aemond puts his sword back on and studies himself one last time in the reflection of a mirror. “Remember what I said, Revaera. You are not my slave nor my whore. Your life is your own now. I wish you to start living it. Not just endure it. Enjoy, not just survive it. Breathe out not to hold your breath.” You sigh, softly.

“I shall do my best.” You manage to say.

He gives you a final kiss before leaving.

“That's all I can ask, see you tonight, my love.’’

You mutter back that you’ll see him tonight.

—

Not so late after Aemond left, a young, blonde woman rejoins your side. She is the woman who spoke up about the bullying of your other ladiesmaids. She also was ready to defend you against Prince Aemond. That was not needed, but still, incredibly brave and kind of her.

You gesture for her to take a seat in your husband’s chair by the fireplace. A little confused and big-eyed, she does as she is commanded. ‘’Good morrow, Princess Revaera.’’ She says.

You smile. ‘’Good morrow. I don’t believe you mentioned your name. If you did, you must forgive me, but memory isn’t my strong suit.’’ It seems to put her at ease.

‘’Dyana.’’ She says. ‘’And, uhm, yes Princess. I had already told you that. But that is fine! You can’t remember every servant’s name-’’ She rambles, a little nervous. “I am forever in your debt and at your service, Princess. You saved my life from the gallows.”

You nod, sitting down. ‘’I just pity I couldn’t talk my husband into sparing the others as well.’’ You murmur. ‘’He seemed so sure that this is the right path to take, but what if we can find another way?’’

Dyana lifts her blonde haired head. ‘’Those ladies called you a whore. They dug their own graves. Your husband is in his right.’’ That is two voices against your own judgment and your own reasons.

You look at Dyana.

“Why did you come in during our talk?”

At first Dyana shrugs, but then she looks at her hands, pulling her nails like you often do. “My mind wandered. Usually when a husband dismisses his wife's ladies she's…” she gulps. “It is not pretty. I could not live with myself thinking he would harm you for things you did not do.” She regains a certain fire in her eyes, when she speaks.

You understand she has a horrible image of how Prince Aemond truly is. A truly horrible image. “Prince Aemond was just worried about me, but I'm thankful for your kindness and your protection, Dyana. It means a lot that you would risk offending the prince, for me. A strange girl you never even met.’’

Dyana nods, eagerly and clearly proud of herself. She has every reason to. “Of course, Princess. My mother always told me I should treat everyone with kindness. Princess or peasant.” She adds. ‘’Oh, I almost forgot Princess. We must also prepare you for a banquet tonight. The King wishes to dine with his entire family, now that Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon and their children have come home from Dragonstone.’’

Dyana helps you find a suitable dress. The last time you were here, the lady's maid's you had forced you to wear Green. It would send a message to the Princess and her family. A message you don’t want to send. You want to play both sides for now, and try to find out what side your loyalty should lie, for the sake of yourself but also for you and Aemond.

So, you pick out a purple with silver gown with golden stitches and a open back. Dyana helps you lace your dress, smiling at you through the big mirror. ‘’You look stunning, Princess.’’

A voice creeps up from behind you, startling you both. “I dare say so.” You turn around, your heart in your throat and your hands sweaty.

“Fyrand.” You say.

The illustrious heir of house Marthyralys, your brother, Fyrand stands behind you and Dyana, eying your silver and purple dress with great admiration.

Your brother smiles, but you can see he is furious. ‘’I came here to see my little sister. You look ravishing for the banquette. Job well done, I’d say. You’ll have Aemond fucking you again soon.’’ That makes you uncomfortable. You didn’t dress for Aemond at all.

You are glad Dyana is still with you, pretending to be busy with small things and matters, but her watchful eyes never truly leave Fyrand.

She pretends to be busy with folding blankets to avoid the eye of your brother. “Fyrand, I don't think Aemond wants you here.” You tell him, truthfully. “He is currently with Ser Criston and Prince Aegon in the gardens, practicing his sword fighting.”

He laughs, as if he remembers something funny. Something ironic you don’t know yet. “O, I don't doubt that they are for a moment. There is much to prepare for.” He grins as if he is experiencing some irony or knows something you do not. You don't like it. “I'm your brother. You can trust me.” He adds once he sees your frown.

He seems to notice Dyana finally. “You. Girl. Go bother someone else.” Dyana does not react nor move at his command.

“Girl. Are you deaf?” He barks, becoming annoyed and approaching her too. You are too familiar with Fyrand’s cruel hand, and you don’t wish to see Dyana suffer.

“Dyana, it is fine.” You tell her, gently.

For the first time since your brother ended, she looks up. Her eyes are full of worry and fear. “Are you certain, Princess?”

“Yes.”

Dyana stops folding the laundry, and leaves you and Fyrand alone in Aemond’s rooms. The moment the door is shut, he turns on his heel, facing you. “Aemond got you a nanny, then. Does he not trust you? Does he not like you anymore? Is that why he is fighting?” You are confused. You and Aemond are doing fine. Aemond is not fighting persé, not in an emotional way. He is practicing.

“Calm down.” You manage to say when he is done firing questions at you. Aemond does seem to trust you, which is why he approved of you having a maid to attend to your womanly needs as he called it. Dyana helps you with dressing, corsets and bathing. Tasks that are a bit difficult for you as you never really had to wear such fancy gowns or look that good.

You always looked decent but never this stunning. You dress for your influence and house now, and also because you know that Aemond will like it if you put effort into it. But most of all, you dress yourself now how you want to dress. You adore the different clothing and the fabrics and how endless the possibilities seem when it comes to design of fashion.

And it's not just the fashion that has changed. Your eyes sparkle with something that you can only describe as a harvest. Seeds have been planted and withered away, yet all thanks to your own strength and endurance, you forced the seeds back into the ground to give it another go. And the result is everything you hoped it would be.

Fyrand grabs your throat, bringing you back to so many horrors. Despite having only one hand, he makes up for the loss of that by dragging his nails into your neck. “I am not calming down! I lost my left hand to get us on that ship. I lost everything to save you. The least you can do is repay me back for what you owe me.” You try to get his hands off your neck, and once you start choking, he does so.

You wait for him to explain the plan.

“What is my mission exactly?”

He scoffs at your stupidity. ‘’Gain the trust of the Targaryens and the Hightowers. Aemond likes you and tolerates you. That is clear to see. The King however, does not. I think that will change the moment you give birth to a beautiful silver haired child.” His last remaining hand pets your belly.

You think back of your mother.

“You know why birthing is a difficult topic for me.” You whisper, soft.

Fyrand burst into laughter. “For you? As if you even knew our mother who died when you came out of her, as some monster crawling out of a corpse.” He laughs, oblivious to your own pain.

You don’t understand how this will make the King happy. He has plenty of silver haired grandchildren. “Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena have already gifted him grandchildren. Even Princess Rhaenyra has her own babies who qualify-”

Fyrand groans, warning you of his temper. “Prince Aemond would like to have an heir. And you will like having a son. As all women do. You will like nurturing it and taking care of it.”

You aren’t sure. For you never had a mother to begin with. Who would teach you how to be a mother? “What if I don't? What If I'm a terrible mother?” Fyrand laughs, before hitting you across your face. “Don't test my patience again.” He adds. ‘’Focus on getting pregnant. You and Aemond fuck enough for that happen, I’ve heard.’’

You are seething he dared to hit you. Again. Any other time, you would’ve let him. But not this time. You grit your teeth.

‘’Who freed you?’’

Fyrand smirks, but does not tell you.

‘’We have a foot in the door, dear sister. Your husband isn’t the only one who has taken a liking to you.’’

And with that he leaves you with more questions than answers.

—

Prince Aemond asked you to find a hobby, so you will at least make an effort for it. For your love. For this seed, you both want to see it grow. So, you leave his chambers in your new evening gown and make your way down to the big stairs.

You don’t know where you are going, but somehow, your feet take you to the courtyard. You notice a dark haired male fighting with someone with familiar long, gorgeous and lucious silver hair. Your husband. You smile, approaching the two from a distant, careful to not interrupt their practice. Aemond dodges and drops his shattered shield, before avoiding the morningstar of the man. That must be Ser Criston.

You watch your husband and Cole both give it their all, and you don’t know you are holding your breath until it is all finished and Aemond holds his sword at Cole’s throat. Cole yields, and soon the gathered crowd applauds at the Prince’s skills. Yourself included.

You feel the urge to approach him, so you do, step for step and gently but by doing so, you are listening in to a conversation between Prince Aemond and Prince Aegon.

Prince Aegon is shorter, as is his hair.

‘’Your wife. How is she settling in?’’ You freeze. They are talking about you. You don’t know why, but you quickly hide between two tall men.

Aemond cleans his sword, sharpening it as well, shrugging and clearly trying to hide his smile. ‘’Revaera is doing well, all things considered.’’ You are glad he says so.

His brother grins.

‘’She eyes me as very eager to please. You should exploit that. Perhaps invite a lady into your bed. Revy will do as you command her. Perhaps she'll learn to like it as well.’’ Disgusted, you growl.

Aemond steps closer to Aegon, his sword still in his hand. ‘’Her name is Revaera. She has endured enough torture for a lifetime, I don't intent for it to continue when I vowed to protect and honour her.’’ He lashes out, groaning.

The other Prince scoffs. ‘’Such a protective little husband you have become. And so quickly. Whatever Revaera keeps between her legs must be absolutely divine. Do not forget who your loyalty should be to.’’ Aemond sighs, embarrassed his brother had to remind him of duty for once.

‘’My wife has proven no threat, Aegon. You know them. They were traitors once.’’ Aemond suddenly stops talking, and smiles when he notices you. Instead of berating you, he rushes to your side, sweeping you off your feet for a kiss.

‘’There you are.’’ He declares, as if you went for centuries without one another’s touch. Aegon rolls his eyes and throws his sword on the ground, not even bothering to put it away.

‘’I was uhm...How did the training go?’’ You ask, your cheeks still warmed because of all the eyes aimed at you and your husband.

Aemond frowns as you two make your way inside the castle. ‘’As well as to be expected. I worry for Aegon. He is getting better but I see so much wasted potential and its driving me insane.’’ He confesses, confiding in you. You feel proud he wants to share such things with you. You don’t know what to say that will make it better, so you instead rub his hands.

He smiles, accepting your love.

‘’New gown?’’ He asks, studying your stunning purple gown. He has a good eye. You assumed most men wouldn’t even notice that.

You smile, breaking free from his grasp and make a twirl and a spin for him, so he may see the whole thing. ‘’Yes. Do you like it?’’ You ask, smiling still.

He breaks into a grin. ‘’Very much so, but do you?’’

You think. Yes, you do. ‘’I like how soft the fur coat is. I like the pretty sparkles. Thank you for clothing me. Thank you for spending coins on me. It's the prettiest dress I ever laid eyes upon. ‘’You get a bit emotional too, realizing that this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for you.

Aemond shrugs, humble and modest and gives you a kiss on your cheeks. ‘’A dress is like a blank canvas. It becomes art when the artist brings it to life. The dress itself is pretty, but you make it eternal.’’ ‘’And, no worries about my coin and funds, love. I would not have taken a wife if I could not provide for her. And don't feel guilty too, as you can hardly walk around naked.’’ He jests, but he grins, whispering. ‘’Not that I would complain…’’

You chuckle.

You giggle, and your lips share a embrace as if you are two smitten teens. That is when you notice that the Prince has been injured. His hand has a cut, a small bleeding wound.

‘’O,’’ You mutter, looking closer at the wound. ‘’You are hurt.’’

‘’It's just a scratch.’’ Prince Aemond says, dismissively. ‘’It happens when you are fighting.’’

You grab his hands, forcing him to stand still. ‘’No, it's not.’’ It is not just a scratch.

Aemond blushes, smiling at you.

‘’I mean…’’ You stutter, aware you gave your husband an order and defied him.

But he does not seem to care.

‘’Yes?’’ Is all he asks with a kind gentle and hopeful smile.

You take him by his arm.

‘’Come. We shall find a maester for you.’’

‘’That is really not needed, my dear.’’

Yet you can't help but notice the smile on his lips and the gentle shimmer of hope in his eye.

‘’Why are you smiling?’’ You ask, shaking your head at your silly husband. Aemond shrugs, pretending to be fine, but you notice his voice has become emotional.

‘’Perhaps I’ve always wanted someone to worry for me. Anyone who wasn’t forced by blood to do so.’’

----

Yeah let me know what you think of this chapter! Next chapter we have the big dinner and also aemond will be undergoing surgery for his wounds /joke.

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cebwrites · 1 year

Note

Hey hey! I'm not new here but I am quite shy!!

I'm a little buzzed though so hehehehehe ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭

If it's okay, could I ask for Sanji's reaction to a male s/o wearing his shirt? Maybe it's a tad too big? XP

Sanji's just.. filled with love? Sorry I'm a little hehehehehehe

a/n: liquid courage to help the tumblr asking go down!! thank you for sending this in and enjoying my work from the shadows 💕

(i'm adding some north blue boys for space filler under the cut if you don't mind <33)

reacting to their boyfriend wearing their shirt (Sanji, Drake, Law)

masc reader, he/they law word count: 0.5k

Sanji

Like you said, anon, he's completely filled with love <3

Sanji whines and twirls for you at the drop of a hat for no particular reason on the average day anyway, but for this? Shit, he might have to actually sit down for a minute

When you roll your eyes and lightly whack his shoulder for the theatrics, Sanji takes ahold of your hands to press the gentlest of kisses against them, you note how the scruff on his upper lip tickles your skin

He'd take a moment to spin you slowly admiring you in his loose dress shirt in the blushing morning light, pulling you close for even more kisses in his lap when he simply can't take having even an inch of space away from you

He's completely and utterly smitten with you, hiding the heat radiating from his face in your shoulder before his own embarrassing thoughts can get the best of him, but would you really have it any other way?

Drake

The first time he sees it, Drake doesn't quite know how to process this information - tangled up in the sheets, a few loose strands of hair framing your face, and the comfy dino shirt he usually wore to bed on days off adorning your sleeping figure instead

He may or may not have blown a fuse from the cuteness

It's not that you're small by any means, the average man's height with decent bulk, but Drake is just, well - huge, standing at 7'7, the guy does tower over most regular folk quite a bit ('regular' people in the Grand Line need not apply)

So its natural that his clothes leave more than a little bit of room for you to swim in

It's not hard to make him a flustered mess to begin with, but with this added bonus, you tease him to no end - walking around the house in just his ratty old sleep shirt all day, cuddling in his lap while wearing it, trying on different things from his wardrobe and then asking your dino boyfriend's opinion on how you look - truly, you'll be the death of him

Law

They're unamused, at least on the surface, that you keep stretching out their hoodies

There's no doubt whenever Law gets a new sweater or shirt that it'll hang awkwardly on them within the next few months (it needs some time before it starts to smell like him, of course)

Law pulls your ear and gives you the patent 'angry kitty' stare and pretends to push you away when you want cuddles for doing this, but they can never stay too mad at you for long

Eventually, Law starts to buy clothes that are a little bigger on purpose for when the inevitable happens - of course, there are some hoodies that off limits lest you get the cold shoulder and locked out of their bedroom for the night

But perhaps Law shouldn't complain as much as they do, especially when you catch your beloved captain cutely falling asleep at his desk in one of your animal print hoodies, or see them groggily drag their feet into the kitchen in the morning wearing draws a little too loose on them

#cebwrites #one piece #one piece x reader #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji x male reader #sanji x reader #one piece x drake #one piece drake #op drake x reader #op x drake #trafalgar law #one piece law #law x reader #law x male reader #male reader #he/they trafalgar law

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witchthewriter · 1 year

Photo

𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: book & show spoilers

a/n: I’m trying to write the characters as a mixture of the book and show. Some of the characters act quite differently in the books and it’s a bit difficult to pin point their personality, but I hope I do them justice. Thank you for reading xx

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲: Everyone is settling down into their own homes. I don’t care what is canon and what’s not.

𝐊𝐚𝐳

・Likes things to be in their place. If they aren’t where they left them than he goes into a bit of a tizzy

“Y/n! Y/n I specifically left them right here and they aren’t right. Here. Where have they gone??”

“No, you moved them because you thought they were too vulnerable sitting there. Look in the third shelf down to your left.”

*Does what you tell him to do* *is embarrassed* *thanks you but not above a whisper*

・You have a lot of nice things in your home, but the most expensive things are usually the jewels and the jewelry that Kaz has gifted you

・He has a lot of the same clothing, so when you open his side of the closet there’s just ... black ... oh and grey

・His cane is never too far from where he is

・Despises the idea of getting a pet

・And you have to beg and beg

・But none of it worked

・So you had to come up with a plan. It was quite manipulative but hey, how else would you have caught Kaz’s attention?

・The dog you have now was once a puppy who had “accidentally” followed you home

“How did it follow you home? We live in Ketterdam, there are a million homes here.”

“I guess it liked...me...”

・He ordered it out

・But you didn’t listen and somehow, the pup had wiggled its way into Kaz’s heart

・He swore he wasn’t going to pick up any poops, but that too was a lie

𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚

・Once settled in, she comes to realise that she really enjoys the finer things in life

・Big bed, silks, many many pillows

・A big bath with hot water straight from the tap

・She adores a long hot bath, lots of bubbles, with lavender and chamomile, candles, and a good book to read - or just to lay there and soak

・She hates waking up early, but is the first one to crawl into bed (she just really likes being in bed)

・Has her own drawing nook - a desk near a big window where she can get natural light. Many types of pencils, quills, inks, etc. She draws people, memories, landscapes, dreams

・Her drawings are framed and are all over the house

・There’s also a library; a room with a cosy corner that has all kinds of books; fiction and non fiction - historical, religious, fantasy etc

・Oh and she adores having the fire going. She wants it on even if it’s barely even cold

・But she hates chopping wood, so when you tell her that it isn’t cold enough for a fire, she’ll go outside and use The Cut to get the wood.

・Loves when you braid her hair; loves it even more when you give her head a lil massage too

・She fusses over you whenever you’re sick. Making you soup, remembering remedies from her upbringing in the orphanage.

・If you burn yourself, cut or have any other injuries, she is constantly checking on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected

・She doesn’t mind doing the laundry - if it means you’ll fold afterwards

・There are a lot of different oils, perfumes, bath products, hair products all over the bathroom

𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢

・Yes, he is used to being treated like royalty

・But he’s also experienced life on a ship - and that isn’t pretty (at all...it’s quite awful)

・Yet he has seen his destiny as being a ruler, so the biggest change in both of your lifestyles is ... you

・You would have to learn how to live during court

・You couldn’t just leave your chambers in your pajamas (I mean ... you could but drama would start at court most definitely)

・Both you and Nikolai obviously share the same chambers, and actually you both have your own wing in the castle (So I guess you could just stay in your pajamas if you wanted)

・It’s basically having your own home - or huge apartment

・The majority of the decor is white with gold trimmings and accents. Nikolai said you could change whatever you want

・The castle is never quiet, and there are always people coming and going, but your chambers are very very quiet.

・Nikolai doesn’t snore but does talk in his sleep

・It’s nonsensical, but it’s usually about the dreams he’s having

・You have servants that come and clean up after both you and Nikolai

・When Nikolai is finished for the day, he trots up to your shared wing and slumps against the door once it’s closed

・He sighs undoing his buttons, but you like to be the one to do that

𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐣

・Still very quiet around the home, so you get used to seeing her in different parts of the house in a small amount of time

“I swear, sometimes there’s two of you!” You once grumbled, while cleaning up a broken tea cup because she popped up out of nowhere

・Doesn’t like loud sudden noises, so you live a bit from civilisation. Not too far though.

・She gets on really well with cats

・You’d end up adopting two kittens that were the only survivors of a litter

・They were tiny, covered in fleas and skinny as can be. But you both fed them, bathed them and made sure they survived

・One is called Umbra, and the other Sol

・You both take on the styling of the home. Inej quite likes the cottage-esque look. However she does want to honor her heritage and there are a lot of colourful cloth that drapes across the ceiling

・Inej had Jesper insert a rod that holds a long silk cloth so that she can practice her acrobatic skills

・Jesper visits as often as he can, and is usually found hung over in the spare bedroom

・As does Nina, who likes to ask what’s for dinner hours before dinnertime (usually an hour after eating lunch)

・You own the land, with Inej’s name not involved - you didn’t want her to feel tied down. And that she could leave whenever she desired

・Although it’s Suli culture to be travellers, Inej said she did want to be apart of the deed and you were more than happy to change it

・Inej doesn’t sleep very often; she knows when her body needs it but other than that, she really cannot get to sleep

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐬

・Loves the feeling of a cosy home

・Has actually gone off to cry because living with you in such a lovely, warm, safe environment made him overwhelmed with happiness

・I have this feeling that you would be the type of person to rescue animals and Matthias has to put on this ‘No we barely have enough to feed ourselves, we can’t look after these animals,’ but his stance changes so quickly

・So you have about five dogs so far

・But you still go into town and feed as many as you can

・Matthias thinks he’s in charge, but after a few months together he comes to realise that you will always be in charge

・He actually really enjoys gardening

・Has those well-planned and established herb gardens. The ones that are held in perfect square timber raised beds

・Matthias absolutely threw himself into gardening. Bought books about it, spoke to the elders in town about how to perfectly grow herbs. He was both fascinated and in need on something to focus on after the tragedy he had endured

・You encouraged him, but said he had to promise not to make a mess inside.

・Is a very loud snorer, and hogs the bed, as well as the sheets. It’s just easier to sleep underneath him - not that he would notice. Once his head hits the pillow almost nothing can wake him until morning

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐚

・Safety; that’s what she wants, that’s what she desires most

・A place that she can let her guard down and not have to worry about being used

・She doesn’t like uninvited visitors, and has special locks on all the doors so no one can break in

・When you introduced the idea of a guard dog, she was apprehensive.

“What if it can sense ... the darkness in me?”

“There is no darkness within you, Genya.”

・So you got a Cane Corso, a beast of a dog. That scared even Genya the first time she saw her.

・Is a very light sleeper, but once getting your pup, Genya let it sleep on the end of the bed

・Even now, after your dog, Neith, has grown to full size, she still sleeps at the end of your bed (you know exactly when she jumps up and when she leaves because the bed moves...significantly)

・When days seem especially difficult for Genya, you like to leave little notes around the house, reminder her of all the things you love about her

・She likes to wake up before you and move the hair from your face and just watch you sleep

・Isn’t the best at cooking, so you usually take up that job. But she does bake pretty well. Very good at making tea cake

・Knows a lot about healing so you have a lot of herbs, spices, flowers, vegetables that aren’t for eating per say, but for when someone is sick or wounded

・Genya hated mirrors for a while, until you helped her get over the change in her appearance. You helped her on the road to confidence and self love.

・You’re both still involved in helping the Grisha so you see Zoya, Nikolai, Tolya, Tamar etc

・Genya doesn’t really like having people at the house though. It’s her sanctuary where there are no reminders of The Darkling or the nichevoya

𝐌𝐚𝐥

・Wants a simple life

・Doesn’t care for anything fancy, so you’d be the one to arrange everything

・I can see him as a farmer

・Out in the country, living off the land, but never taking too much and giving back

・We know from the books that he ends up running the orphanage with Alina, living a simple life. Looking after kids who need a home - and I think he would do that whether he was with Alina or not (and in this case...obviously not)

・He would be content with a slow life with you

・But he also wants to be of use to the community; to give back

・So you spend your days finding jobs for people who need them - with the help of Nikolai. You do the paper work while Mal meets the people and waits with them until a horse and carriage arrive

・You also have a huge vegetable garden that you allow the community to use as they please

・In thanks they give you something; knitted blanket, baked bread etc

・You have cows, goats, sheep and horses

・There are stable hands that tend to the horses. Usually the young people from the village (both boys and girls alike)

・The milk isn’t just for you and Mal but you go into town and give it to the people who need it most

・You don’t live far from the village. In fact you can see your neighbours just by looking out the window. They may look far, but really it’s only a ten minute walk

・You also teach people how to read and write

・Mal is absolutely head over heels in love with you

・Always makes sure you feel protected and safe

・Is actually very sensitive and feels things deeply. That’s why sometimes he has to take time to process his emotions alone

𝐙𝐨𝐲𝐚

・We know that Zoya is destined for greatness, hence she would end up living in a castle

・But if not a castle than a quaint chateu will do

・Is a stickler for mess

“There is no reason for there to be so much untidyness!”

・Has a lot of pictures/drawings/paintings of her family up around your home

・She always needs the bed to be made every day; if you’re the last to get out of bed than you have to make it

・You see a different side to Zoya; yes a softer side but also the undone, sloppy version of her. She actually didn’t let you see her like that until a month into living together

・If you snore she makes you sleep on the couch

・No. pets. She’s the one who wears the pants in this relationship and her decision is final

・Until you start feeding an old cranky cat who doesn’t stray far from your home. You name him, but keep him a secret and sneak him inside when Zoya is away

・She pretends not to notice and lets you have your hidden pet

・Although you’d think there would be servant or maids, that’s not the case. You and Zoya split the chores equally; she doesn’t want another person touching her things

・She actually colour co-ordinates her clothes; they’re in colour order and when she’s especially stressed she’ll do the same for yours

・When clothes are folded, they have to be folded neatly-

・Is a very, very good cook. She makes these pastries with goats cheese inside that are to die for

・Has a vanity with ridiculous amounts of make up. When she has a bit to drink she always wants to give you a makeover

・Takes her coffee and tea very strong

“What’s the point of polluting it with milk and sugar?”

・Is the last to fall asleep and the first to wake, but she stays in bed for 20 minutes because she likes being so close to you

・Whenever guests come over she is the perfect hostess. But if they overstay their welcome she won’t hesitate to tell them it’s time to leave

𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫

・IS SO DRAMATIC WHEN GETTING READY

“This outfit worked better in my head”

・Wanted to have multiple mirrors in the bedroom so he could “see himself at all angles” but you told him “the fuck we are”

・He relented ... not without whining

・But Jesper’s clothes do end up EVERYWHERE

・He’s awful at picking up after himself in the clothing department

・But he does keep the bathroom really clean ???

・Even if it’s shaving or after a bathe, he’ll make sure it’s exactly how he found it

・Hates weird smells so he sprays perfume everywhere

・Liked the thought of living in the city to be close to the rest of the crows, so you accepted

・But you made him promise not to do anymore gambling -

・Your home is like an escape for Jesper

・Likes to go shopping with you. He likes picking out things so that you can match (you’re against it at first but ... also submit to it)\

・He always knows how to make you laugh, so whenever he forgets to do a chore he can wiggle his way out of it

・Will do all the grocery shopping and any errands you don’t want to do

・Also loves candles, especially scented ones but has been banned from having them burning unless you’re home too ...

・Moves around a lot in his sleep and has whacked you a few times

・Misses you whenever either of you are away. Keeps a piece of your clothing to smell

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

・Although he spends a lot of time at the Little Palace, he wanted a place where it was just you and him. Where he wouldn’t be disturbed by questions or problems.

・A lot of his focus is on his plans, but he keeps maps and the like all in one room

・He wants to keep the bedroom for ... bedroom activities. As well as all the other rooms for their proper uses

・Aleksander doesn’t want his ambitions to hinder your domestic life

・He hates overhead lighting

・Prefers candles or lamps

・Always buys you new clothes, new shoes, new accessories etc. Wants you to have the best of the best

・And he gets headaches very easily so you have tinctures and remedies on hand as well as around the house

・He prefers the quiet, and too much noise overwhelms him

・Pets aren’t really his thing ... maybe a bird though, but it wouldn’t have to make much noise

・He does love horses though. And would spend hours on them if he could. Just galloping away, far from his troubles.

・Has a maid that comes and cleans the house

・The only time you’ve seen him truly peaceful is in sleep, but that’s only when the nightmares haven’t started

・He wakes up a lot during the night and doesn’t want to wake you. But you’ve told him whenever that happens he’s more than allowed to wake you up. Being in your arms help him go back to sleep

・100% lets you steal the blankets, without ever complaining

・He’s more likely to remember things than you are, so he makes/buys you a calender and writes down everything you’d need to remember

𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐚

・Isn’t very tidy. There are a LOT of food crumbs (especially in the bed)

・Her hair is actually very long, she just keeps it up and out of the way, so you get to see Nina with her long hair down

・But you also find a lot of Nina’s hair ... everywhere

・She does like when you give her head scratches - a lot of golden retriever energy

・You’ve actually been collecting it to prove to her how much she sheds

・Is always hungry and asks if you want to get food nearly every hour and a half

・She’s not that bad of a cook, but you aren’t much better. So a lot of your food is bought rather than made

・Always makes sure you’ve had something to eat though, especially after a long day or after a big gig with the crows

・You, Nina, and Inej have a close friendship; so Inej likes to ... appear ... in your house

・Most of the time it’s because of an injury. So you keep your storages stocked up just in case.

・But other times it’s for a sleep over! Eating, all sleeping in the loungeroom, telling each other stories and secrets

・You invite Jesper and Wylan aswell... and have asked Kaz but he always declines. Well actually he doesn’t even decline he just doesn’t say anything or show up

・Is a heavy sleeper when you’re in the house. But when she’s alone she can barely sleep

・Always kisses you when you walk through the door and before you leave. It’s become a ritual and if it isn’t done then it’s bad luck

・Learns your little quirks. Like if you like your sandwiches cut diagonally or straight

・Nina is very romantic

・She loves going on little dates with you. And always makes sure you have time for a date. At least once a month. Even if it’s just going out to eat and then taking a walk underneath the night sky

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