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animereaderinsertwriter · 9 months

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to fuck a god

tags/warnings: smut, ares x nymph!reader, erwin smith x reader, ancient greece au for a hot minute

a/n: this fic is a gift for the lovely, wonderful @bluebellhairpin whom i adore (and is responsible for my schmexy icon!!!!)

There is shouting in the distance.

Your nose wrinkles, your eyes tighten. Darkness, warm and weighted, presses against you, smothering wakefulness. Peace lulls you back to slumber.

Moments later, there is a scream— you hear it past the darkness, past the weight. It is the lonely, abandoned cry of a wounded soldier. Your heart lurches, your eyes flutter.

Still you sleep. It has been too long since last you had rest.

It is a crash that finally wakes you. Pain blossoms in your abdomen as a bridge collapses, a crushing pressure that forces air from your lungs. You rise, hot, raging, vengeful; your waters churn, boiling wine-dark with the blood of mortal men. Battle has come to your riverbank, unbidden and unwanted.

The men do not— cannot— see your body as you emerge from foaming rapids, but that does not lessen the doom they face by the outstretching of your hand. This is your river. The silt and sand beneath their feet, the water in their noses and lungs belong to you; they will not savage it without price

They pay with their lives by the dozen. You extract it from them mercilessly, plunging them beneath the water's surface. As your rapids rage, one man reaches, lunging to gouge another with his spear; even in your wrath, you mark the act as strange. What manner of beast is man that even in the throes of his own death, he seeks to cause another's? You find it too foolish to fathom.

“For Athens!” cries one man just before you fill his lungs with water. “For the noble House of—”

He does not finish. You smother his battle cry with watery death. Athens could burn for all you cared, along with every noble house and home along the way. You cared little for irreverent man; would that the gods would send you power enough to flood them all.

“Such fury from one so small. Would that I could inspire like rage in even fifty men.”

The voice, though gruff and deep, was quiet, bemused. In your distraction, you allow a man to escape your clutches and crawl back to shore, gagging and sputtering as he went. Furious, you turn and find the true object of your ire lounging beneath the shade of a fig tree, a scroll in hand. Once, it might have amused you to find the god of war reading, of all things— but you were accustomed now to his all-too-frequent visits, and the oddity had worn off its charm.

“Restless vagabond,” you spit, feet slapping as you walked from your place in the water to the shore next to his tree. “Go back to Sparta, Ares—you're not wanted here.”

So saying, you fold your arms, waiting for a response. When the god doesn’t deign to reply, you flick water from the tips of your fingers in his direction. Shiny droplets land in his dark hair, glistening like dew; a single shimmer of water races down the thick bridge of his nose, then dives off the blunt tip of it to land on his scroll.

“Woman.”

The word is spoken lowly— a warning— but has no real bite. Your words, however, are far from toothless, heedless of how great and terrible is the power that he wields.

“I am no mere woman— no more than you are mere man.”

Dark-bright eyes look up at you, their russet brown edging on red as they sparkle with mischief. As his gaze follows the curves and plains of your body, Ares smiles— the very definition of crude and lascivious.

“You are a woman in all the ways that count.”

That, you supposed, was true enough.

“Why have you come?”

He nods towards the chaos of your river.

“The men brought me.”

“As if mortal man makes his own war.” Your face contorts into a scowl. “I ask again: Why have you come? Why come you to savage my banks, pollute my waters with foul man-blood and stinking mortal shit?”

“I told you the truth, pretty one.” Ares rolled his scroll gently. It crackled under his huge hands, but did not bend. “The men wage war, and whithersoever they wage, there I must be also.”

“Pretty one,” you grumble, angry at how well the compliment pleased you. “Better wrathful one, or vengeful one.”

“Those too, if it pleases you.”

He stands, brushing grass from his toga. The clothing in question, made of crimson fabric, falls just shy of halfway down his bulging, golden thigh, revealing softly curving muscle. The hulking mass of him throws a shadow long enough to cast doubt and fear into your very bones, even more so as he approaches you— but then he is close, so very close, and murmuring sweetly just for you to hear.

“Come, my Lady Wrath, my Darling Vengeance— does my presence really disturb you so greatly?”

You can smell the battle on him. His scent is metallic, like blood, and salty like sweat— and yet there is also the clean scent of the field, the spice of victory wine, and the smoke of burning bodies. Ares is and always has been a study in opposites, both animal magnetism and soft, reasonable attraction.

"Yes," you admit, striving for exasperation and hitting nearer to tremulous want. "You do disturb me."

A large, warm hand grips your hip. You suddenly become aware of the bareness of your skin, the cool damp of you against the warm heat of him. The contact brings a flush to your cheeks. Your body responds as his hand flexes, squeezing; you can't help but search his gaze, wondering, as ever, what he's thinking.

"I love that you're naked," he says, at once soft and sharp. "Your form pleases me, lady nymph. Your kind are never shy, but you are the only river-sprite I know that dares brave land baring all."

He touches you further, that large, rough hand sliding up the curve of your waist. He spreads his warmth from your hip to your ribcage to your neck, gently exploring. The touch is electric, yet strangely innocent. He is a god admiring Creation. Admiring you.

As before, you allow it— and how could you not?

Who were you to say no to the attention and affection of a god?

"The men are dying in my waters," you say as his fingertips trace your jaw. "I'll fall ill, Ares."

"You shall not. I shall send another of my kin to cleanse you, as I did before."

You have nothing to say in return. As if sensing this, he kisses you, busying your mouth with the more pressing business of his want. Both of his hands are on you now, one on your neck, one at the swell of your ass; as he pulls you close, you can feel the hot, hard length of him against you, protected only by the thin fabric of his toga. The sensation is heady, and you pride yourself on keeping your feet through the ordeal.

"Will you let me have you once more?" he asks against your lips. "What say you, my nymph of rage?"

You consider for a moment. Always, he gives you the choice. You know he needn't— he is stronger, more powerful, and could and had easily taken what he wanted before. It makes you wonder if giving you the choice, allowing you to choose him, is a way for him to conquer you. In the end, it doesn't matter. There was only ever one answer.

"Yes." Your breath comes quick as a calloused thumb brushes over your nipple. "Yes, Lord Ares. I will have you."

In the end, there is no shame. Even Aphrodite herself had been unable to say no to the wiles of the war god. As conqueror, it was not in his nature to be refused.

Having gained your assent, Ares does not waste precious time. Instead, he kisses up your neck, to your ear, taking the lobe of it between his teeth and scraping gently. The act sends goosebumps racing down your flesh, and you shiver. Ares kisses lower, down to the hollow of your throat and the plain of your chest, his hands wandering to hardened, sensitive nipple and gently curving breast. He touches you, explores you, holds you like you are precious, and your body opens to him.

"Spread your legs," he says against your neck. "I want to taste you."

So saying, he lowers himself to his knees, bringing himself of a height with your sex. Filthy and impossible, he noses at the apex of your thighs, nudges your legs apart with his hands; it is everything you can do to remain standing as he begins a great and terrible onslaught against your dignity. It is so much. It is not enough. Your hands move to his hair, pulling the soft strands as a long, thick finger finds your entrance, and he groans as he finds that his finger slips easily inside. Still, he does not budge from his task until you're trembling, quaking above him as your orgasm nears— and even then, it is only to look up at you with glistening mouth and fuck-me eyes and say,

"Kneel."

You can do nothing but obey. You kneel before Ares, and he kisses you, letting you taste your own pleasure from his mouth. It's filthy and perverse and everything you've ever wanted as he lowers you gently to the earth, wrapping your legs around his wide hips. You look up at him, awestruck. In this moment, he is soft, beautiful. He is nothing like you would have imagined War to be.

Ares takes a moment to toss aside his clothing. His sex is even larger than you remember it— or, perhaps his form alters according to his godly will, and he is striving to impress. In any case, your sexes are now aligned— his tip to the very opening of your body— and all that remains is one push before he is fully seated.

Despite all, you find yourself anxious for that push.

"Do it," you urge, smothering that feeling. "Fuck me, Ares."

You can tell it pleases him to hear his name from your mouth. Even so, he does not acquiesce immediately, which both frustrates and endears him to you.

"I'll go slowly," he says. "It is no small thing to fuck a god. I thought you'd have learned that by now."

You have no reply— not when his cockhead is pushing slowly into you, making way for the rest of his large, heavy cock. It is nearly a religious experience, being filled by him. You cry out as he's finally seated deeply within you, and all at once you can no longer tell where you end and he begins.

"Yes," you tell him as he withdraws to begin another slow thrust. "Yes, yes, yes."

The word becomes a song as he picks up the pace. It is a song of moans and cries and deepest feeling— he kisses you as you keen, and the hot, hard length of him slows to an agonizing pace.

"Are you alright?" he asks, as though you are breakable. "Should I slow down?"

It infuriates you.

With all your power, you shove at his chest. At first, be doesn't seem to understand, taken aback by your newfound aggression— but eventually, when you use the force of your hips to indicate your desire, he goes easily backwards, landing with a gentle thump on his back so that you can straddle his hips, impaling yourself on his length. Hands braced on the warm softness of his chest, you begin to grind, pushing him ever deeper into you until both of your breaths come heavy and your time is near.

"You were made to be abed with War," Ares tells you, smiling madly up as you move above him. "Indomitable, you are, and ruthless— I have no doubt that a thousand lives could not separate us."

You barely hear him.

"Lovely creature. I would make you my queen, if I could." His voice pitches upward in a moan of pleasure as you use his body. "I would make you heir to my kingdom of ash and broken bone, would burn worlds for you."

Cogent thought is lost to pleasure, but you feel the meaning of his words. It pushes you closer, so close, so close—

"Come, pretty one," he says, "Awake, destroyer of man. I will catch you if you fall, in this life or the next."

You jerk awake.

A warm hand rests on your shoulder. You turn, groggy with sleep, and find a pair of shining blue eyes peering into your own. Erwin Smith—your husband and commander— has never looked more handsome than now, with chest bare above pajama pants that fall a little too short at his ankle.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks you, tender, gentle. "A nightmare?"

The wetness between your legs indicates otherwise. You guide his large, calloused hand there, wordlessly allowing him to feel your answer, and he smiles.

"In that case, I'm sorry for waking you." He presses a kiss to your temple, a finger pressing into your folds. "You don't get enough downtime as it is."

You hum in agreement and run your hands along the solid, curving lines of his biceps.

"You could always order me on bed rest, commander," you tease as he shifts, placing himself exactly as Ares had in your dream— between your thighs, your legs wrapped around his hips.

"If I did that, nothing would ever get done."

"No? Am I that big of a help, then, that the Scouts couldn't function without me?"

"No," Erwin grinned, mischievous, "It's because if I put you on bed rest, I'd never leave your bed."

You smile, then gasp as he presses against you, cock straining against the thin fabric of his pajamas. The feeling is startlingly familiar, and all at once, Ares' words come back to you.

"You were made to be abed with War. Indomitable, you are, and ruthless— I have no doubt that a thousand lives could not separate us."

You wonder if the dream was entirely that. It felt so raw, so real— and, though Erwin and the Ares of your dream shared little physical similarity, you suspected that they were made of the same parts. Only the paint was different. Ares was bronze and dark where Erwin was pale and blond, but in their hearts— in their dark, violent hearts, capable of more and deeper love than a mortal could imagine— they were the same. They were men made of war, bathed in the blood of innocents.

And they both wanted you.

"Lay back," you tell your husband, pushing at the soft muscle of his chest. "I want to ride you."

Erwin grins.

"I thought you'd never ask."

#ares x reader #ares #erwin smith x reader #ancient greek au #erwin smith #nemo my beloved

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autisticartist321 · 3 months

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Happy valentine!!

#welcome home #welcome home arg #frank frankly #welcome home oc #eddie dear #welcome home au #finding nemo #eddie x frank #frank x eddie

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chainsxwsmile · 3 months

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I attempted Procreate Dreams again, got frustrated with the app, and returned to Roughanimator.

Anyway, have a peaceful loop animation inspired by My Neighbor Tortoro ft. Tolkien-AU Marlin, Nemo, Dory, and Bruce!

#bruce finding nemo #finding nemo #Marlin #Marlin finding Nemo #dory #Nemo #tolkien AU #animation #roughanimator #my art #my animation #reblog friendly #verse: tolkien

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theneonflower · 2 years

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[fate au] Captain Nemo’s crew on his ship are not multiple versions of himself. Instead, all classes are led by anthropomorphic sea animals, transformed by Nemo’s own magic. Here, we have the Professor [Manta Ray] and her assistant [stingray], and Nemo’s marine class, who are all shrimp. The other classes include Nurse [Sea Turtle], Baker [Sea Otter], Engineer [Eel]. A new class is also added in my AU called Warrior, who are sharks who protect the ship and scout its surroundings.

#fate series #fgo #fate au #fgo nemo #captain nemo #neon's art

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nemo-of-house-hamartia · 5 months

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LIKE SERIOUSLY.

MONSIEUR DORIAN, STOP EYEFUCKING. I CANNOT CONCENTRATE.

good gods in heaven, tell me how am I supposed to work on his lineart UP CLOSE with those eyes looking toward me.

TELL ME PLEASE HOW.

#Nemo sketches #assassin's creed #Arno Dorian #VtM!AU #WIP

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minecraftbookshelf · 5 months

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Codfather Jimmy Solidarity of The Swamp, Post-eeveelution

art comissioned from @iliveonmylaptop

Pre-eeveelution

Lizzie

#marriage of state au #solidaritygaming #the codfather #empires smp #empires s1 #i am screaming about this so much #artist does have commissions open for the record #you should commission them #yes you #rain rambles #pro tip zoom in on his eyes #he has fish eyes!#lookit the lil lopsided fish god!#is like if nemo was the swamp monster #also every time yall say something nice about the art in the notes i get to screenshot it #to show my partner who did the art #so please say nice things in the notes that i can show them!#mos: art #mos: jimmy

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maegalkarven · 6 months

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Empty prayers

Logical continuation of the AU where everything flies off the rails at the Moonrise Towers:

https://www.tumblr.com/maegalkarven/731364247822598144/au-where-dark-urge-didnt-loose-memories-and-the?source=share

Following the derail of all of his plans by his own hands, Lord Enver Gortash contemplates the future. Luckily, he doesn't have to do it alone.

m!Dark Urge x Enver Gortash, Karlach.

"I don't think he will answer."

Enver doesn't turn around to look at the bhaalspawn. He hears the crunching of dead leaves and sticks under the man's boots and feels a familiar presence close to his shoulder.

Regardless of that, he does not turn.

There's a small, carefully constructed altar in front of him. Perfect, it looks like, perfect with the offering and the incense burning.

Yet his god is silent.

"Enver, really, I don't think Bane will-"

"He has to," comes out a little bit harshly, a little bit forcefully. There's a bitter taste of desperation on his tongue. He pushes it back. "I am his Chosen-"

"I don't think you are anymore."

"I am," he insists as his voice rings louder, pitching to a high, urgent note. "I am the Chosen of Bane, I am his Hand, I am his Voice, I am his Will; and he will answer me."

He feels Nemo's piercing stare burn into the side of his face, but does not look up. Does not meet the familiar honey of the gaze he thought he has lost.

Does not think of all the implications this gaze brings.

Nemo is alive, here, next to him; so close Enver can touch him.

Yet somehow everything is ruined.

A pair of firm hands lay on his shoulders gently and he almost flinches at the touch.

But it's just Nemo.

"No," his bhaalspawn whispers softly. "No, he will not. You have failed him, my dear, just the way I've failed father. You chose wrong," Enver tries to move away from the touch, but the man's fingers only dig in deeper.

"You should have pushed me into the pool. You should have taken Orin's side in the conflict or did not intervene at all. But you," a deep, heavy sigh and a weight of Nemo's body pressing against Gortash's back.

"You chose me. Consciously or not, but you put my survival above everything else; above our plan, above your alliance, above your god. And gods like your and mine do not tolerate disobedience."

"You created this plan with me," Enver tries. "We were brilliant together. Orin has ruined everything; she could not control herself. She was a liability-"

"She was the Chosen of Bhaal," Nemo whispers right into his ear, the breath coming out hot. "It was not your place to decide if she was liability or not. And anyway, I don't think this is why you did what you did."

"It was her own fault," he tries again and feels like a child trying to avoid the punishment. He remembers, long time ago, in a house he prefers to not think about, in a cell what was his home, he used to plead the same way.

Raphael never listened.

"And Ketheric's; they compromised the plan, they put everything in danger, I was just trying to fix it, to put things right-"

Nemo hums.

"Have you tried telling Bane that?" As the matter of fact, he did. "I doubt he'd take this as an excuse." He didn't. "Bhaal beneath, Ketheric was right, wasn't he? Gods only answer when they have something to say. I guess Bane has nothing to say to you anymore."

"He will answer me," Enver insists with the persistence of the damned. "He needs me."

"He really, really doesn't," Nemo presses himself closer and Gortash allows himself a moment to lean back into the touch, to seep out any comfort it provides and feed to his weary soul.

Nemo. Nemo. Alive.

And it only took everything to go to the hells for that to happen.

"I know he hears me," Enver tries again.

"Oh, I have no doubt he does. But Enver, darling, don't you think this whole...fiasco would look bad for Bane? Don't you think the most sensible thing he could do would be to wash his hands clean of this?"

Enver hates to admit Nemo is right; it would be the sensible thing to do. It would be what Gortash himself would do in Bane's place: abandon the lost cause and move on. Find another, better Chosen.

Only there's no better Chosen than him.

"I am the only one who can realize all of his plans," he tries not to think about it. About his Steel Watch, unstable with one of the stones in control of the Brain. Of the cult of Murder under the foot of a thrall of the said thing, of the prodigal murderer as a meat puppet of the entity beyond their comprehension. Of Ravengard, untadpoled, no doubt giving a speech at the inn right now.

Everything went to complete and utter shit. But he can fix it; he can. Surely Bane knows that.

Surely Nemo does.

Nemo lets out a dark, unkind type of a laugh.

"You just destroyed all of his plans," he murmurs almost lovingly. "All and every single one of them. There's no recovering from that, only moving forward."

Enver hates what Nemo is right. And he hates what he knows what Nemo is right. And he hates Bane, and he hates Orin, and stupid Ketheric with his stupid sacrifice for a bitch of a daughter who did not deserve it, and he hates Raphael - honestly, fuck Raphael; and he hates his parents, he hopes they'll die, and he hates Karlach and her big open heart what was ripped out yet is still somehow inside her ribcage-

And he hates Nemo for how much he cares for Nemo, and really, all of this is actually his fault, if not for him, then-

"Are you done with your pity party?" And speak of the devil. Oh, well, a tiefling with infernal engine for a heart. "Duke Ravengard is holding a council," typical. "And your presence is required."

His old friend gives him a short, bitter look.

"This is not a pity party," Nemo argues and the woman snorts.

"Sure looks like one. Gods, it truly is a sign, isn't it?" She whistles. "I used to think I want to see you dead, but seeing you like this, fallen from grace, demoted to what you have always been - that feels even better."

A bubbling, bitter anger raises in him and Enver moves to stand-

"Oh, cut out with this," Nemo interrupts, his hands still firmly on Enver's shoulders. "He saved my life."

"And this is what I still don't understand," Karlach argues. "But it doesn't really matter; this is me actually playing nice. Trust me, if I've decided to give him back the treatment he gave me, he would not be standing right here. Or, well, sitting right here."

"We are all in the same boat now," Nemo tries placidly. "Dealing with the consequences of-"

"-Enver Gortash's actions."

"Our actions. I was involved, remember?"

"You didn't have a choice," she argues. "Bhaal made you; cut from his very own flesh. You have known no life but what your evil father showed you. You were not acting on your own accord. He," an angry gesture at Gortash. "Acted on his own accord. And sold me to Zariel. So she could rip off my heart and make me an unwilling soldier in her war."

"Oh, stop playing the victim," Enver snarls. "I gave you a chance to be something greater than you were. I gave you a chance to be stronger, better, invincible. With this engine no one could touch you, no one could hurt you. It was practically a dream come true and you threw it away, the ungrateful brat you have always been."

Fire erupts from her engine, wrapping itself against Karlach's entire body. Her eyes blaze as she steps forward, and for a moment Enver almost feels...That can't be it, he is still wearing his coat.

He scrambles to his feet, reaching for the crossbow. Bane is silent, he will always be silent from now on, but Gortash doesn't really need him, he doesn't need anyone-

"I'll make you choke on these words," Karlach threatens and damn it, why does it take so long to fix up his damn crossbow, is it broken-

Then a small, thin figure moves to stand between them.

Nemo looks...so insignificant compared to Karlach; he has no fire engine running in his chest, he has no muscles to rival hers, he has no claws and no horns.

Just plain looking half-elf with a crooked dagger in his hand.

"No," he says firmly. "You will not kill each other. Either you two calm the fuck down or you'll have to kill me first. And," a quick glance behind. "I really don't think this is what either of you wants."

"Nemo," Karlach frowns. "Step away. He had it coming-"

"No."

"Nemo-"

"No," the bhaalspawn snarls and something sparks in his eyes, deep, dark and deadly. Bhaal is here. Bhaal has gone nowhere.

Orin was wrong.

"You are not killing him, you're not as much as harming him, Enver Gortash is mine."

Karlach actually looks taken aback at that.

"Yours to do what?"

"Mine to keep, and mine to torture and, if it comes to it, mine to kill. But he is mine and he will stay that way. Bane is finally out of the way, so don't think I'll let you interfere."

"Nemo, this is- You're not exactly-"

"He is the only fucking person who has ever got it," there's a bleeding desperation oozing from the spawn's voice.

"The only man to be my equal. The only true partner I had ever had. I went to the Moonrise Towers with the dreadful knowledge I'd die here, with the belief this man would stick a dagger so deep into my back it'll protrude from my chest. And instead," he is breathing heavily, his broken, pathetic mess of the murderer. Perfect.

"He saved me. He took my side in a fight what had nothing to do with him. He chose me when it was an an obviously stupid thing to do, he has forsaken everything by letting me live. You cannot have him."

They stand like that for a while in a complete silence.

Karlach, double axe in her hands and shock mixed with pity in her gaze.

Nemo, breathing heavily, hands trembling, his own blade digging deep into the flesh of his palm, a thin red string of blood trailing down into the dirt.

Enver, mesmerized, taking in every breath, every shift of his unlucky, broken, forsaken mistake of a lover. Elevated by the sheer force of his devotion.

They need no gods but the ones they create. They need no gods but themselves.

Finally Karlach sighs and lowers the axe.

"For you," she drops down, turning away. "Only for you, for everything you've done for me and the friendship we have. But make no mistake, I am watching him," a rude gesture Enver reciprocates. "And if he does one wrong step, his messy fucking head will come flying off."

"I'd like to see you try," Enver starts and immediately gets kicked into the ribs with Nemo's elbow. Brat.

"Alright," the bhaalspawn smiles. "Thank you. You said something about the council?"

And somehow the end of the world gets delayed for just one more day.

#dark urge: nemo #durgetash #gortash x durge #the dark urge x enver gortash #empty prayers au #bg3 dark urge #bg3 spoilers #au: durge remembers everything #durge spoilers #nemo: but ma'am this is my emotional support tyrant #karlach: *sigh* FINE. But you're cleaning after him #Nemo: i've done everything wrong in my life #karlach: this is not your fault and I love you #unproofread bc who has time for that?#avery.txt

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nemo-in-wonderland · 5 months

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aaaand, yes.

my mind is still very much brewing over this whole crossover thing that has decided to nestle in my mind and bubble away.

So, today I had a couple of hours to just sit down and *breathe* and I took the chance to finish Dorothea's namecard, and start with Arno's, and OH BOY, I AM INVESTED IN MY OWN SHIT.

My hands literally just went on their own when I started to sketch Monsieur Dorian, but after so many days of spent between errands and constant brainstorming (seriously, you should see the state of the notebook I bring around with me with all the notes I take, even on the go), I found that I had a very clear idea of how I wanted Arno to be in this AU and who I wanted him to be.

And omg I am trapped in a whole vampiric world lololol.

Well, now back to work a bit more <3

--Nemo

#Assassin's Creed Unity #Arno Dorian #Character Design #Vampire!AU #Nemo Sketches #my art #WIP

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crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington · 5 months

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lionfish and clownfish

#ethan winters #mia winters #mithan #chris redfield #resident evil #resident evil fanart #rebhfun #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #nemo au #i found out that resistant doesnt mean immune 😭#be careful around her spines ethan

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thepixarau · 4 months

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Woody: we’re the Pixars. We have absolutely no privacy whatsoever.

Héctor: we’re the Pixars. We have too many dishes and not enough cabinet space.

Remy: we’re the Pixars. We don’t get recognized in public nearly as much as you’d think.

McQueen: we’re the Pixars. We all failed our driver tests the first time.

Jessie: we’re the Pixars. We should not be allowed to do taxes.

Imelda: we’re the Pixars. We all take too long in the bathroom every morning.

Helen: we’re the Pixars. None of us know how to cook without burning the food.

Marlin: we’re the Pixars. Our washing machine’s been broken for a week.

Joy: we’re the Pixars. We’re like one big happy family..the kind that gets together every Christmas except no one ever leaves!

Merida: we’re the Pixars. We have zero fashion sense.

Flik: we’re the Pixars. We each have our own unassigned seat at the table! And if anyone takes it, it’s the end of the world.

Ember: we’re the Pixars. We break things way too easily.

Sulley: we’re the Pixars. We have a dozen cars parked in the driveway.

Sadness: we’re the Pixars. We will fight for literally no reason.

Dory: we’re the Pixars. We love getting letters from fans in the mail!

Ian: we’re the Pixars. We look like adults but technically speaking most of us would only be like 10 years old if we were normal people.

Bob: we’re the Pixars. Our walls are not soundproof.

Joe: we’re the Pixars. We own every single piece of merchandise from every one of our movies ever made.

Atta: we’re the Pixars. When one of us gets sick, it turns into a plague and the rest of us inevitably get sick as well.

Barley: we’re the Pixars. Instead of going to the gym we play Wii Sports.

Wade: we’re the Pixars. We like to criticize each other’s taste in music, for some reason.

Mater: we’re the Pixars. When one of us takes a dump we have to warn everybody not to use the bathroom for twenty minutes.

22: we’re the Pixars. Our game nights are a battle to the death!

Mike: ..we’re the Pixars. Everyone here is exaggerating. Our life is actually very normal.

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trans-formers-n-stuff · 3 months

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my dad called him cute is he right yes or yes

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camels-pen · 16 days

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a gift (not a burden)

summary:

Usopp knows who his soulmate is, but he doesn't want to follow some bullshit rules of fate etched into his skin.

Meanwhile, Sanji's a hopeless romantic.

—

second gift exchange fic! this is also for @redriotinggg & i've got some extra notes about their soulmarks i'm probably gonna share at some point

warning: internalized homophobia

Ao3 Link | Chapter 2

Chapter 1: I love you, my friend

“Soulmarks: a way of finding your perfect romantic match. Depending on where it’s placed, the meaning changes—”

“So?” Usopp said, colouring the mane of his fish-lion drawing.

“So,”—Ms. Okra ripped the paper away and he made a noise of protest—“yours is very important, Usopp.”

Usopp sighed, slumping forward on the table. Ms. Okra kept talking about more dumb soulmate facts while Usopp tried to remember her real name. She always bragged that she got the nickname ‘Ms. Okra’ because she sold the best okra in the village, but Usopp’s heard the other adults make fun of her hairdo plenty of times to know the truth.

“Are you even listening?!”

Usopp groaned. “Who cares about soulmates?”

“This is serious, Usopp,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “You have to make sure to find yours soon—”

“Because you don’t wanna come up the hill anymore?”

Ms. Okra stuttered, “Well—I—”

“I didn’t ask you to babysit me,” he grumbled, rolling his broken crayon across the table. “I was doing just fine before the mayor made you guys check up on me. I’m 7 and a half; I’m basically an adult!”

Ms. Okra rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying, you could stand to make a few friends. There are some nice boys and girls who visit on passing ships sometimes—”

Usopp blew raspberries. “You just wanna get rid o’ me. Prolly to steal all the legendary gold I’ve got hidden away.” He grinned. “Did I ever tell you? I went to a famous island made of cheese and—”

“Son of a pirate, indeed,” she whispered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. It sounded like any other curse she’d yelled at him from her shop window.

Usopp gripped his crayon tightly. “He’s gonna come back.” He glared at her. “And he’s not gonna be happy when I tell him what you said.”

“Oh please, if that coward was going to come back, he would’ve done it before Banchina—”

Usopp snatched his drawing and ran out the door.

“Usopp! Usopp, get back here; we haven’t finished the lesson!” Ms. Okra shouted. “What would your mother say?!”

His mom would be proud of him for sticking up for himself and his dad. And she wouldn’t be so pushy about soulmates. Her mark was in the same spot as Usopp’s, after all, and look what happened.

Usopp spent the night holed up in a cave by the beach, his fish-lion crushed to his chest. The breeze whistled a lonely tune through the stone and sand. He buried his face in his knees and tried to ignore it.

—

Vinsmokes aren’t supposed to get soulmarks, his father sneered.

It’s like an ugly tattoo, his brothers jeered.

Make sure no one sees it, Reiju warned.

“Sanji,” his mother said, a warm look in her eyes, “it’s beautiful.”

“Really?” he asked, curled up next to her in bed. “Everyone else hates it.”

“Really, baby.” She tucked a stray hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry about everyone else; how does it make you feel?”

“Hmm.” Sanji traced each line of his mark with his finger. He smiled. “It makes me feel really warm and good! Like when I eat soup!”

His mom pressed a kiss to his temple and he giggled. “Then, mon chouchou, that’s all that matters.”

“But—But what if they don’t like me, maman?” He sniffled, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m really bad at everything and I’m whiny and—”

His mom shushed him and pulled him closer. “Don’t listen to Judge and your brothers, okay? You are perfect just as you are. Your soulmate is going to love you.”

“Can you come with me when I meet them?” Sanji hastily added, “W-When you get better, I mean! And—And when I’m older and not as much of a baby!”

His mom took a sharp breath. She buried her face in his hair, the sheets rustling as she tugged him to her chest. “Of course, mon coeur,” she said, her voice sounding odd and muffled. “I’d love to be with you when you meet them.”

—

Usopp’s soulmark was a tiny little thing. Blue waves and a chef’s hat with a spiral pattern all inside a glass bottle. It was barely the size of his fingernail.

Mrs. Barb’s soulmark stretched across her whole back. A big green boar with curly white tusks and yellow flowers for eyes. Mrs. Barb’s tanktop couldn’t even cover it all.

“Rue!” Ms. Okra yelled, her voice easily louder than the sound of Mrs. Barb’s hammering. “You better not be fixing the display stand when I told you to rest!”

“Nope! No fixing here!” Ms. Okra stomped down the street as Mrs. Barb hastily put away her tools and kicked the box under the porch. She and Mrs. Barb whispered something to each other. Mrs. Barb said something that made Ms. Okra burst into laughter and smack her shoulder. Mrs. Barb put an arm around her waist and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Don’t get too close, Captain, or they might spot you.” Pepper pulled on the back of Usopp’s shirt. “C’mon, let’s find Onion and Carrot, they’re still hiding!”

“R-Right! I was just trying to test my limits today.” He grinned. “Gotta practice my famous stealth techniques or I might get rusty!”

“But I found you first…?” Pepper said, confused.

Usopp turned Pepper around and ushered him further down the alley towards the mouth of the forest. “Of course, of course, but that’s just because I was going easy on you, just wait until next time when I—”

—

“I almost had it!”

“Sure you did, kid!” Patty laughed around the cigarette in his mouth. “Maybe next time you’ll hit the target!” He laughed again, slapping the railing.

Sanji whirled on him. “Fuck off!”

“Hey! Watch your fucking language!”

“You need to bend your knees more,” Zeff called from the kitchen, his voice drifting out from the open door.

“You didn’t even see it!” Sanji yelled back.

“Didn’t have to. I could hear your dainty little steps from here.”

“They aren’t dainty.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Sanji scoffed. “Whatever.” He swiped Patty’s cigarette and ran back inside, giggling while the man chased after him.

“Give that back you brat!” Patty knocked into a rolling cart piled with dirty plates. Carne scrambled to catch them with a curse.

“Patty!” Zeff shouted. “Quit fucking around and harassing the Eggplant. Either finish your shitty break or get to work!”

“Ugh, dad to the rescue.”

Sanji flushed. “He’s—I mean—he’s okay, but he’s still just a shitty geezer.” There was a smarting pain to his head and Sanji squatted down with a hiss. “What’d you kick me for?!”

“I may be a geezer, but I ain’t shitty.” There was another thud, followed by a deeper hiss. Louder, Zeff said, “And I ain’t your dad, Patty, so get to fucking work.”

“Aye aye, Owner Zeff,” he grumbled.

With the sound of running water, Sanji looked up. Patty was at the sink, washing dishes and sporting a lump on top of his head. He snickered quietly to himself and took a celebratory drag of his stolen prize.

“You gotta stop picking fights like that,” Carne said, frowning down at Sanji. “Also, quit smoking. It’s bad for you.”

“Everybody else does it!”

Carne took the cigarette from Sanji and held it out of reach. “Well, you’re not everybody else, are you?”

“Hey!”

“Sanji, let it go.”

“But Pére!” Sanji whined.

Silence.

Carne had a hand over his mouth. Patty’s shoulders were shaking.

“What?” Sanji said, shoulders rising. “Don’t laugh! You guys said it earlier!”

Before he realized, Zeff leaned down and scooped him into a hug. Sanji stiffened. “W-What the hell are you doing, shitty geezer?”

“Nothing special.” He paused a moment. Sanji grew more tense with each passing second. “Thank you, mon fils.”

Sanji gasped. “You—what—when—?!”

“I wanted to read books from the North, so I learned,” he said. It sounded like that time he told Sanji he’d grow watermelons in his stomach if he ate the seeds. Zeff gave him a hard pat on the back and went back to cooking like nothing had happened.

“When you meet your soulmate, you better bring her ‘round to meet all of us, okay?” Carne said, wiping his eyes. Patty was trying and failing to subtly wipe his nose on his sleeve. “You can’t just run off without telling us!”

“As if I could ever run off.” Sanji leaned back against the counter, trying for smug, but ending up with a wobbly smile. “You guys would never survive without me.”

—

“Alright Zoro, hit me!”

Zoro wound up and punched Luffy in the face. Luffy bounced all across the deck, knocking over anything that wasn’t tied down until he ended up tangled in the railing.

“Wow, seven bounces; that’s a new record!” Usopp said. “I need to step up my game.”

“Hey bastards, you’re disturbing Nami!” Sanji shouted, bursting out of the galley.

“Sanji! When’s lunch?”

“We just had breakfast.”

“And?”

“And if I let you eat whenever you wanted you’d clear out every speck of food we have!”

Luffy whined. “But lunch is so far away. A little snack wouldn’t hurt.”

“Listen here you shitty rubberman—” Sanji picked Luffy up by the front of his vest. Anything else he said after that was completely lost to Usopp as he got a good look at his wrist.

Now, Sanji had been sailing with them for a couple weeks at this point, and he didn’t particularly put any effort in hiding the obvious mark stretching along the width of his wrist. Usopp could’ve probably named the basic colours and shapes of it based on the glimpses he’d seen. So really, it was no surprise that there was a yellow-orange target with a brown eye in the centre, framed by a green slingshot.

What surprised him was the fact that it was only now, after seeing the whole picture at once, did he recognize that slingshot.

Holy fuck, Sanji was his soulmate!

Holy fuck, Sanji was his soulmate.

Mr. if-I-don’t-flirt-with-every-woman-around-I’ll-die was Usopp’s soulmate. Dear god.

What was he supposed to do with that? It was proper etiquette to make the soulmate bond known once one person had figured it out, but…

“Radiant Nami, would you like a refill of your tea?”

“I picked some flowers just for you, my love!”

“You’re the only girl for me, Nami baby!”

Well, what did Ms. Okra know anyway? She was wrong about a lot of things and all that soulmark junk was stupid anyway. Usopp’s curiousity had been sated, Sanji could keep flirting with girls guilt-free—it was a win-win!

And besides, compared to Sanji’s, Usopp’s soulmark was—fuck, he felt like crying.

“At least have the decency to wait a couple hours before asking for a snack!” Sanji growled, shaking Luffy and unintentionally bringing Usopp out of his head. Luffy simply laughed.

Usopp took a breath. He clenched his fists tight before letting them fall limp. “Hey, Sanji, you mind letting us have Luffy back? We were kinda in the middle of something.” He carefully kept his gaze away from Sanji’s wrist.

“Sure just give me a second, I need to beat some sense into this shitty captain of ours.”

“Give it up,” Zoro said. “That’s impossible with your puny kicks.”

“Puny?!” Sanji let go of Luffy and jumped the railing, butting heads with Zoro. “I’ll show you puny you third-rate swordsman!”

The force of Sanji letting go sent Luffy snapping back through the railing and around the deck before eventually flying through the galley door. There was a crashing noise and Nami screeched, followed closely by Luffy’s apologies between laughter.

“Eight bounces,” Usopp mumbled to himself.

Zoro and Sanji were fighting, Sanji’s sleeves riding up as he twisted around.

Usopp quietly made his way below deck to the boys’ dorm, wedged himself in one of the corners, and buried his head in his knees with a groan.

—

“How come you’re so…” Nami waved a hand.

“You just gestured to all of me, my dear.”

“I mean, you flirt with pretty much any lady you meet.”

Sanji nodded frantically. “Of course! I can’t just let a lady go about her day without complimenting her!”

“Right.” Nami tapped the edge of her teacup. “Now, I don’t want to be rude, Sanji, but it really seems like you don’t care much about soulmates.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” He smiled. “It’s the opposite, actually. And a little silly, I suppose, but when I was a kid, I didn’t want to miss the chance that one of the customers might be my soulmate. Some only visited the restaurant a few times a year and others only came once while passing through on their travels.”

“So you… decided to flirt with every woman who visited?”

Sanji’s cheeks warmed. “Well, yes, in a sense.”

Nami raised an eyebrow. “What’s there to be embarrassed about? You certainly don’t have any shame about it now.”

He coughed into his hand. “I… started doing it rather young. And I hadn’t really been able to discern which customers were with their soulmates or otherwise in relationships already.”

Nami laughed. “Aww, Sanji, that’s so cute. I wish I could’ve seen that.”

“Trust me you really, really don’t,” he said, refilling her tea.

She took a sip and let out a satisfied sigh. The galley was silent for a long moment.

“If…” Nami paused. “If you’re waiting for your soulmate, then does that mean you know who they are?”

Sanji shook his head. “Nope, I’m just as much in the dark about her as you are with yours.”

Nami touched a finger to the spot just under her ear, a light blue heart outlining a well-loved crown atop a sandcastle, a single peacock’s feather sticking out of it. Sanji had never seen that style of crown before—none of them had—but then, that wasn’t uncommon when it came to soulmates from different places.

“Sanji,” Nami said softly, her eyes drawn to the table. “You really don’t recognize it?”

Sanji tilted his head. “No, not at all.”

Nami sighed again, this one more tired than satisfied. “Maybe we should get your eyes checked before we cross the Red Line.”

Sanji made a noise of confusion, but Nami refused to elaborate. When she asked about lunch plans, it didn’t take long for him to forget all about it.

—

Bath times were… harrowing to say the least. The guys didn’t have to wash up at the same time, but Luffy—and now Chopper, too—needed a buddy so he didn’t slip under the water and drown. Zoro needed a little persuading sometimes, which was always easiest with company around, and Nami forbade Usopp and Luffy from taking baths on their own, on account of wasting all the hot water messing around. Ever at Nami’s beck and call, Sanji would join bath time to keep order, followed by Chopper who came more for the comradery than anything.

It wasn’t too hard for Usopp to hide his mark before. It was far smaller than his hand so he could easily cover it with a well placed towel or carrying Luffy to the tub in a particular way. Before, it was out of embarrassment of the size, but ever since recognizing his own mark on Sanji’s wrist, things had become a lot more stressful.

“Alright you idiots,”—Sanji clapped his hands and everyone turned to him—“Nami dearest is still recovering so we’re gonna get this done in no time and leave her, and our precious Vivi, plenty of hot water to soak in.”

Usopp kept one hand on his towel, saluting Sanji with the other. “Aye aye, bath captain!” Chopper and Carue rushed to mimic him, determined looks on their faces.

“But guys, I’m the captain…” Luffy said, pouting.

“Yes, but Sanji’s the bath captain. That means he’s no fun—”

“Watch it, Longnose.”

“Don’t forget afraid of a little dirt,” Zoro piped up from across the room, already having washed himself off and sitting in the back of the tub.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Sanji said, brow raised. “You actually used your brain for once and insulted me when I won’t fight back. Maybe your head isn’t full of algae.” He smirked. “Though I guess it’s expected that you’re afraid of retaliation.”

“Who’s afraid?!” Zoro yelled, jumping to his feet. “You wanna go, Curly?”

Sanji wagged a finger. “Ah ah ah, what’s the rule?”

He turned to Usopp and Luffy who both said, in a bored tone, “No fighting in the bath.”

“That’s right.” He started to unbutton his shirt as he added, “So finish up first and I’ll kick your ass later.”

Zoro sat himself back down, mumbling, “I’ll kick your ass later.”

If Sanji heard him, he didn’t show it, and man was Usopp glad for it. The days Sanji wasn’t just tearing out of his clothes as fast as possible to try and splash Zoro were always a treasure. Watching him leisurely expose the skin of his belly, a fine black happy trail dragging Usopp’s eyes down down down, just as he started to unbutton his pants—

“Usopp, hurry up!” He startled at Luffy’s voice, only just realizing he was still wearing his boxers. He quickly shoved them off and grabbed another towel for his waist before dumping a basin of water over Luffy’s head, clearing the suds all over him. Luffy gave a cheer and jumped into the bath, soaking Zoro completely.

Ugh, what was Usopp doing? He couldn’t just check out Sanji like that! They were friends, crewmates! And Sanji didn’t even like guys, so it wasn’t like there was any chance. Besides, soulmarks didn’t really mean anything: you could be smitten lovers or barely acquaintences just like a relationship with any other person.

Yeah. Yeah! Usopp was probably just… going sea crazy. That’s a thing, right? Where being at sea so long makes you… fall in love with your best friend. Ugh.

“Sorry—I said I’m sorry, Zoro!” Luffy said as Zoro shook him back and forth. “I won’t do it again!”

“Won’t do it again my ass,” Regardless, Zoro let him slip from his grip and flop against the edge of the tub.

“Usopp! Me too, me too!” Chopper said, covered in soap and holding out the basin.

“Of course! The great Captain Usopp would never leave you hanging!” Usopp shifted in his stool. “Close your eyes and hold your breath.” Chopper did as instructed and Usopp poured the basin over him, slower than he did for Luffy.

Chopper shook from head to toe, sending water flying everywhere. Usopp made a noise of surprise as he was soaked right back. “Thanks Usopp!” Chopper said, running for the bath.

“Geez, give me a warning next time!” Usopp sighed, twirling some of his wet locks around his finger. “Man, I wasn’t even planning on washing my hair today.”

“No use complaining about it now.” Sanji said, pulling up a stool next to him. He held up Usopp’s shampoo bottle and shook it a little. “Want some help with it?”

“Please.”

—

Sanji laughed, the sound followed by a loud squirt of shampoo in his hand and a faint floral smell. Usopp turned his back to him and sighed happily at the first touch. They sat in relative silence—

“Chopper, do not turn into Walk Point—”

“Zoro, you don’t have to be jealous, we can take turns! You take the duck and—”

“I’m not gonna ride either of them!”

—as Sanji scrubbed shampoo into Usopp’s scalp. Usopp leaned back at bit more, his head tilting up. Like a cat wanting to be pet, Sanji thought fondly.

He took his time lathering up the suds and rubbing thoroughly at differents bits of sea salt and grit; he did the same for his own hair and he’d be damned if he didn’t do the same for his friend.

He combed his fingers through Usopp’s hair, taking his time to start from the ends and work his way up to the root, like Usopp taught him. Eventually, he ran his nails from the top of his scalp to the back of his nape in one smooth motion. Usopp had a full body tremble and sighed contentedly, the sound deep and satisfied. Something warm pooled in Sanji’s gut and he suddenly wanted to do anything to hear it again.

He repeated the motion, but Sanji only saw the curve of Usopp’s smile. A sight he held close to his heart, but not what he was hoping for. He ran his nails along the sides of his hair, scratching good and hard. Usopp huffed through his nose. Following the thread, Sanji put his fingers behind Usopp’s ear and scratched again; this time he had to rush to catch Usopp before he hit Sanji’s chest.

“Falling asleep?” Sanji asked with a laugh.

“Mmmno,” Usopp said, voice slow and drawn out. He tilted his ear towards Sanji and Sanji could see both his eyes were closed. “Keep going?”

Ah, maybe a dog would’ve been a better comparison. Sanji could almost imagine a little tail wagging against the floor. “‘Course. Can’t leave a job half done.” He grabbed a little more shampoo and got back to it, being sure to keep one hand right where Usopp wanted it.

To Sanji’s delight, Usopp sighed far deeper than before and pratically melted into his lap with hardly a thought; his arms lay limp over Sanji’s thighs and the back of his head pressed into Sanji’s stomach. The poor guy must’ve been tired from doing repairs on Merry earlier if all it took was a little head scratch or two to have him fighting sleep like that. Maybe Sanji should rinse off the shampoo and usher him off to bed—

Usopp sighed again, the sound closer to a pleased moan.

Well, this was benefitting both of them, really, so Sanji couldn’t just stop out of the blue. He had to be thorough in helping Usopp—he offered, afterall, and it’d be rude not to see it through.

Usopp slid down a bit more, head turning to rest on Sanji’s thigh as Sanji scratched behind the other ear. His movement jostled the towel over his shoulder and it slipped to the ground.

Sanji noted it, absentmindedly, and glanced at the newly exposed part of Usopp’s chest without a second thought.

His hands stilled.

“Mmm? Why’d you stop?” Usopp asked. Sanji hardly heard him over the roaring in his ears. “Sanji?”

Blue waves. A chef’s hat. A distinct pattern of spirals. All encased in a small glass bottle.

There was a sharp inhale and suddenly the warmth across his thighs and stomach were gone.

Usopp stuttered some excuse as he left. Sanji was frozen, his eyes glued to the spot where his matching soulmark stared back at him.

His matching soulmark.

And Usopp hadn’t said a word.

He sat there, covered in shampoo suds and wondering where he went wrong.

#one piece #sanji #usopp #sanuso #soulmate au #opfwex #opfwex2024 #opexchange #nemo the writing ho #this fic was so damn hard to keep quiet about #the other one too but this one Especially

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