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Relief

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Word Count: 10,700+

Synopsis: After a town was successfully ran out of marines and laid plain for piracy to overtake it by your crew, the Kid Pirates found drink and merriment in their frivolity. After a game of kings, queens, and hearts, an unexpected turn of conversation between friends ends as it normally does: horny. Despite your well-kept secret amongst yourself, the crew finally learn that you had never experienced a climax with a partner before - or even by yourself. With the pick of the litter, both Kid and Killer take that shame as a personal slight against them and set to rectify the wrong made against you.

Warnings: Eustass Kid x f!reader x Massacre Soldier Killer, MDNI, 18+, smut, NSFW, throuple, double penetration (same hole), cock sucking, vibrator play, swearing, pet names (babe, doll, blossom, baby, sweetheart, little one, pretty), messy eating, masked sex, fingering, oral sex, inappropriate use of devil fruit, size difference, praise, cervix touching, Killer has a shrill laugh, overstimulation, sweet aftercare, creampie, squirting, friends with benefits, friendly sex, kid pirate shenanigans, there is also a dilf there that Wire is kind of into, and Quincy is just herself and we love that.

Notes: WELL THEN. THAT FIC GOT OUT OF HAND FAST. I have several people to blame and thank for this, including @cicadamoon for their beautiful playlist and company, to which this fic is dedicated to, and @hellkaiserinphoenix for their input on the plot. Thank you to my friends at various stages over the past few weeks to write alongside me in silent solidarity while sharing snippets of their work. This fic is such a fun one to write and I hope you enjoy!

The first time you’d joined the crew of misfits clad in leather and iron, you knew this was the family you had been searching for. Every member served their purpose, and you were no different. Whether it was fighting, drinking, or ensuring the Victoria Punk was ready to make waves, each member of the crew worked in tandem to ensure their actions were cohesive. Every hand gesture to pass drinks down the line, every laugh flowing off the end of a bad joke, or sharpener tossed between eyeliner pencils to ensure their attires were exactly as they needed to be was in perfect synchrony.

Each commander served their purpose. Wire was the literate commander with the only legible handwriting, in charge of notating their departures and corresponding via carrier rather than den dens. Heat was the enforcer of crew safeguarding and discipline, despite the fact the crew was hardly in need of it. Killer was the second in command, following his captains orders and ensuring they were followed down the line of command. And then there was Eustass Captain Kid, the red headed leader of the Kid Pirates. He was as loud as he was ruthless, and you adored spending time in his shadow whenever he allowed you to. 

It was once again a time where drinks were flowing, a town successfully ran out of marines and laid plain for piracy to overtake it by your crew. And where the Kid Pirates found drink, they found their morals slowly dropping from their shoulders and pooling at their feet - alongside, what you assumed were either Quincy or Bubblegum’s frilled thong. It mattered very little to you, just as long as you continued to play cards and barter your beri away in exchange for kings, queens, and hearts. 

“Oi, ya off, Wire?” your captain asked as the tallest commander rose to his feet beside you, “Thought you were gonna stay until ya bled me dry, bloody vampire.” Kid followed his insult with a large laugh before following Wire’s eyeline to the bar. An older gentleman sat at the bar drinking whiskey out of a tumbler, slowly raking his eyes over the commander’s fishnet-clad attire before turning back around and snarling at his glass. 

“Again?” Heat arched his brow with his dimpled lips rising into a smirk, “I thought you were well past that little kink of yours, man.” Heat snickered and nudged his shoulder with Wire’s retreating thigh while the taller man tilts his head and continues rising a playful smile towards the older man who continued to actively avoid making eye contact as if it burned him.

“I don’t know what it is about it, but there’s nothing truly like showing an older man how good it feels to cum untouched from a prostate massage. There’s something special about turning a man into the little cockslut they were born to be,” Wire shrugged softly, “That little blush, you know? Lips parted and drooling into a pillow? Little curl in their toes before they paint the damn bed in all of themselves?” Wire turned his head and smiled towards the table of Kid Pirates remaining behind, “We all have our little quirks to get us our best ‘O’s, don’t we?” 

“I can’t say we do,” you chuckle with a shrug of your own, “At least you guys can have orgasms.” You took a large gulp of your drink before waving your hands in a panic and clarifying, “I-I mean! What I was trying to say was you can have big ones to fill up or paint your partners.” You made eye contact with Quincy, giving her a small look with a plea on your face, “We don’t get that luxury, you know?” 

“Speak fer yerself, babe,” Quincy’s laugh blurted out before she could stop it, “All the chicks I mess with love it when they make me squirt on ‘em. Marks my territory ‘n that, and it's such a pretty picture.” Hop leaned over and clanged her tankard on the side of Quincy’s in solidarity before smiling into her gulp. Quincy returned her look to you, mischief filling her cheeks with a warm blush, “But I don’t think that’s what ya were tryin’ t’say, was it? What?” She leaned towards you over the round table, accidentally tipping Killer’s drink and landing the remaining liquid on Bubblegum’s lap, she chuckled, “Ya can’t cum, or?” 

“I…” you took a quick recess to gaze around the table and avoided the pointed look your captain shot at you, “...Have not had enough to drink to have this conversation.” Kid quickly swapped your tankard with his near full one, scoffing at you as he did.

“Drink up, lass. Then ya can give us some more on, what the fuck?” he shook his head towards you, releasing his tankard and returning back to his chair properly, “Ya can’t get an ‘O’? Like, at all?” You quickly turned your attention towards Wire, pleading with the commander to save you from this conversation as he would usually. Instead, Wire surprised you by returning to his seat and sitting down beside you with his entire attention on you. 

“Don’t you have a daddy to make cum touchless, commander?” you prompted him, gesturing towards the bar where the older man continued to hide his sneaked glances towards Wire. He shook his head and pointed his lengthy finger towards your nose, booping it as he did.

“Not missing this conversation,” Wire confirmed sharply, “What do you mean, and I mean this sincerely. Not out of scrutiny, but genuinity?” He reached for your drink and handed it to you from the table and into your hands, “Drink up if that helps, but I ain’t gonna move the conversation from this stopping point. Up, up, up the beer goes.” He tilted the drink into your lips, prompting you to stumble and hastily swallow the liquid while your crew laughed merrily. 

Taking a few coughing breaths, you wiped your lips from the foam accumulated over your upper lip and swiped the remnants on Wire’s cloak as punishment for him tipping it too quickly. He chuckled at you and swatted your hands away, returning your attention to the table. 

“Obligate top, or…?” Wire started, prompting you to shake your head ‘no’.

“It just didn’t seem like a priority to me,” you shrugged towards them, “I’ve had partners, and don’t get me wrong, I have sex. Sex is pleasurable. I just…” you trail off before shaking your head and steeling your nerves in front of part of your crew, “Look. It’s not that simple. It’s like… If I top and give pleasure, I can have pleasure by proxy, you know? But it’s more frustrating for me to try to get there and fail with a partner- hells, by myself!” You flailed your hands, knocking what remained of your tankard on Bubblegum’s lap after he cleaned it from Quincy’s earlier drink, “I just… Can’t… It’s like when I’m on the path to get there, the wheel falls off the wagon or some shit. Like I can taste it, and then it melts away at the corners and I just end up in a frustrated heap on the damn bed. Easier to focus on my partner than it is to focus on myself, or have the focus be on myself and then we both end up frustrated and sad.” 

Those around the table nodded their heads along while you spoke, the most silent form of solidarity being from the intense eye contact you could feel burning into you from the first mate of the crew. Killer sat in silence, focussing his gaze entirely on you while you finished your words, making a non-verbal pact with his crew the captain didn’t realise he was making when he said-.

“-You want to pick one of us to make ya cum?” 

“Captain,” you rolled your eyes with a low groan, “Didn’t you hear what I just said-?”

“-I did,” he overspoke, moving his attention to the menagerie of leather-clad crew before returning his eyes back to you, “Sounds like yer’v been havin’ some real shit lays in the past and we’re gonna fuckin’ change that, ain’t we?” Kid furrowed his naked brows down at you, his eyes growing wild under the realization that just hit him, “Is this why you sit on the damn ship when we wanna go out and get our freak on with the locals?” 

Sinking into your chair, you slump your shoulders into your chest and avoid your captain’s eyes. Their focus had you feeling more defeated than every time you had used every toy in your arsenal to try to get yourself off for hours, only to throw the objects at a wall and watch them shatter while crying at another failure. You felt two larger hands fall onto your lap and encase your hands in their warmth before bringing them up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. The intensity of Wire’s eyes held an apologetic sorrow you didn’t ask for, yet it almost felt sweet.

“Don’t pity me. There’s thousands of people that can’t get off, and there’s nothing wrong with that,” you reassured him, “And I’m fine. Really fine, in fact.” You moved your hands within Wire’s grip and gave his fingers a gentle kiss on the tips of his digits, simply to reciprocate the affection from your commander. Your captain coughed and nudged the co-captain to his side, something you only just caught out of the corner of your eye before the blonde rose to his feet. 

“You’re upset about it,” Killer finally spoke, “You mentioned how hard it is for you to try by yourself. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I let you go without something you want that I can provide.” Kid stood up beside his friend, smirking as he did, adding, “And I wouldn’t be much of a captain if I let ya go without somethin’ ya so desperately fuckin’ need. C’mon. Just us three, no one else unless our little lass says so.” 

“Captain,” You shook your head while smiling down at your hands, removing them from the grasp Wire had on your digits before shrugging, “If you’re interested in a night that would end in nothing but your own disappointment, be my guest. Let’s go.” You rose your hand, meeting it with Killer’s outstretched palm as he aided you to stand. You turned your head towards Wire, and uttered over your shoulder, “I bet that older guy is going to have a far better time than he anticipates. Keep me updated?” 

“Only if you keep me in the know about shit you’ve got going on,” Wire scoffs, almost offended at your words, “I can’t believe you’d keep that from me. We’re meant to be friends, baby. Where’s the friendship?” 

“Urgh, you’re such a pain,” you chuckle at him, feeling another hand come and rest on your lower back before tugging you into the hard chest of your captain, “Okay. I’ll keep you updated, Wire. Go have fun.” Bidding your farewells to the remainder of the Kid Pirates, you and the two highest ranking members of the crew began to escort you to the ship in lieu of the rooms you had hired for the night. You’d began to open your mouth to ask a question, but Killer silenced you with a reassuring squeeze on your hand. 

The walk back was in silence, the bustling nightlife of the town you’d raided seemed to return without the presence of marines. There was something buzzing in the atmosphere, but you were certain it was simply the coiling anxiety of the evening you expected ahead. You tried your hardest to not get your hopes up, but there was something about the low rasp in Killer’s voice that struck a chord in your belly. It was… hot… Your belly was hot as soon as he’d offered his hand in aiding you into the sweet abyss of pleasure. A friend. A comrade. A lover. That was what you were promised in the arms of the blonde first mate. 

Until your captain reminded you that you and Killer were not alone on this endeavor. 

Eustass Kid slowly began making his quarters homely for you. It was almost sweet how he took care to ensure the chilly space was warmed by the heater in the corner, the bed was made and clean, and the space was given an ambiance by a few incense burning in the corner table of the room. Your nerves started pricking at the edges and shuddering your fingertips while Killer continued to stare at you in your silence before he helped you break it.

“There’s no need to be nervous, doll,” he nodded, slowly reaching for your shoulders and rubbing them in circles with his thumbs, “You need to relax before we can make you cum. Few ways we can do that. Do you want another drink, or would you prefer we ease into it slowly?” You turned your face down to the floor, prompting Killer to reach out and slowly clasp your chin between his thumb and index finger, raising your face back up to look at his mask-clad face, “We’re friends first. There’s nothing to be nervous or embarrassed about.” 

“You think yer the only one Killer has made cum in this room before?” Kid broke the tension with a large laugh, “Friends can fuck about, and that’s perfectly normal. It’s nice to have a good bud to help get ya there. Now, Kil, yer bein’ real intimidatin’ with all yer tender touches n’shit. Go take yer shoes off and get comfy while me n’this little lass get t’have a talk.”

Killer nodded and slowly made his way to the other side of the room. He methodologically removed his boots and placed them in an assortment beside Kid’s along the border of the door, removing his socks next and placing them over the lip of his boots. He then undid his waist sash and folded it three times before putting it atop the toes of his boots, undoing his belt and rolling it atop the sash while you watched on in astonishment. Everything had a routine, a place and a purpose, and it seemed like he was getting into the appropriate headspace for something you could not quite place. 

In fact, you had no time to think on what exactly he was preparing for. You were too busy attempting to form the connection between what your eyes were seeing and your body was experiencing. For one, you went from staring at Killer to then having your view skewed by flesh. For another, the hard kiss on your lips smudging lip paint into your skin was another distraction for your mind to become accustomed to. 

Your captain was kissing you. 

As soon as you made that link in your thought, you squeaked into the kiss, prompting Kid to shake his head at you and kiss you harder. You wriggled against his touch before you finally relaxed into the kiss. His lips were soft, uncalloused and moisturized - something you were not expecting from your captain. He seemed like the kind of man that didn’t care about his appearance and skin - but it was almost as if he cared too much about it instead. You parted your lips and slowly moaned into the kiss, distracted from the small steps Kid took with you in his embrace until the backs of your knees brushed with the mattress of his large bed. 

“C-Captain!” you whispered into the kiss, “A talk?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Kid chuckled, finally breaking the kiss and smiling down at you, “Just had to get that out of the way to have you not circling in your head about it. Nothin’ works as well to break the spiraling thoughts of ‘how do I do this’ than just doin’ it. Now, missy, let’s talk.” He moved past you and slowly sat with his back against his arrangement of oddly shaped pillows of various sizes. He used his remaining hand to pat the bed besides you twice, encouraging you to sit beside him. You crawled up the bed to do exactly that and arranged yourself in a way that had you reclining while facing him, yet on your back and relaxing. 

“Talk to me, sir,” you nodded with a smile, “What do we need to talk about? I’m confused, I think.” 

“Well.” Kid turned his body to face you, placing his head on his pillow and resting in a way that felt both intimate and sweet while boyish and mischievous. Kid cleared his throat before continuing, “So, you know my good friend Killer, yeah?” he nodded over to the man, yet still holding your attention with unwavering eye contact, “He is exceptionally good at reading a body and judging what it needs by interpreting it the way ya need to be read. What works well is if ya just let him do his thing, answering any questions he has when he asks them, and he’ll get ya t’where you wanna be.” You nodded intently while Kid added, “See, what works best is if I distract ya up here while he does what he fuckin’ likes down there.” 

“Captain,” Killer warned him while slowly peeling his blue shirt from his shoulders and folding it in his arms, “Clothes.” 

“Right.” Kid reached towards his chest and slowly removed his vest, leaving his pants on while his cloak fell onto the floor beside the bed in a crumpled heap. He smiled at you before moving back onto his side and pointing towards your chest, “Your turn, blossom. Off it goes.” He made no move towards you, yet his hand gesture alone felt both intimate and demanding in unison. You moved your hand towards your shirt and stopped before rising it over your belly, feeling a little uneasy with the situation despite Kid working to ease you in.

“It’s okay,” Killer encouraged you, slowly slipping towards the edge of the bed and touching your ankle. Reaching for your shoes, he slowly removed them and laid them at the foot of the bed before rising reach your pants, “You can keep yer shirt on if it makes you more comfortable. Whatever helps ground you, doll. But these?” he tapped your shin twice to emphasize his words, “These gotta go. Want me to take ‘em off ya?” You looked at Killer’s face still covered in the mask and nodded shyly, prompting Kid to bark a small gaggle of laughter from his kiss-smeared lips. 

“Look, again, we’re friends here,” he reassured you, “We can be silly, we can goof off, we can take it as slow or as fast as ya need, but ya gotta get those off so the big guy can get t’pleasin’ ya. Okay?” You turned your head to face your captain as the first mate reached up and slowly removed your pants. You angled your hips up to help him glide them down alongside your bottoms, trying to fight that hard slap the blush in your cheeks beat into your face to no avail. You felt your eyes get glassy, foggy with both anxiety and lust at the feeling of two larger shirtless men in the same vicinity as you - especially the fact that those two were your superiors. 

As soon as your mind began to form into a murky soup of inhibitions and protests, Kid’s lips once again found yours. His kiss was soft, deep, and almost gentle in the intensity of his press. He parted his lips and slowly found your tongue with his own. Dancing the muscles together, he glided it over the seam of your lips and into your mouth before encouraging you to do the same with his. You could almost feel the waves of anxiety slowly release the longer he kissed you. Every deep pass of his lips pressed against yours was a sanctuary amongst the uncertainty, and you were grateful to be grounded to something as tender as this. 

Wandering hands began to massage your body between soft whispers of: “is this okay?” to check in with you. When Killer’s hands found below your bust, he again checked in, which prompted you to nod your head into Kid’s kiss. Before you knew it, you were morphed into a gasping puddle of lust, whimpering into Kid’s lips while Killer rubbed your peaked nipples with his thumbs over your shirt. He was yet to remove his mask from his features, but you could feel the soft look he was giving you in every soft movement of his hands. 

Kid’s kiss only deepened before he slowly moved away from your lips and down towards your neck. His and Killer’s bulking mass both pressed comfortably against your body and sandwiched you between them in a way that had your belly tightening in anticipation, but your mind quickly snuffed out that thought and caught your arousal before it ever had a chance to fully begin. 

“Oi,” Kid grumbled at you, “I felt that, did you, Kil?” 

“Yeah, boss,” Killer confirmed before removing his hands from you completely. He moved up to your other side and slowly raised his mask up for you to take a look at his lips as he spoke to you, “Look, doll. If this is gonna work, you need to relax into what we’re doing. If you need Kid to be a better distraction, you need to tell us. If you need more of a voice to talk ya through it, he can do that too. You just need to let us get on with it, okay?” Killer smiled at you, leaning up and pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. With his mask digging into your cheek and your nose, he pulled away and added, “Stay out of your head and let me and Kid settle in there, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

“I…” you gasped, triangulating your brows up in the centre of your forehead, “I can try, but it’s hard. I would prefer to please you both instead of us doing this so then we can be all satisfied that way. You know?” Kid and Killer shared a look over the your middle before manhandling you into a position where your head was resting comfortably on Kid’s chest while his bicep and arm held you in place, while Killer was positioned with his face between your legs. You wriggled in their grip, but the wriggling only prompted them to hold you down further. 

“Let Killer at ya, okay?” Kid whispered in your ear, “I promise it’ll be different, and even if it ends up the same, don’t he look good down there?” Kid took his hand and raised it to your chin, angling your head down to face Killer. The blonde’s mask was up on his head and shielding his eyes from view, leaving his purple-painted lips out for you to witness. You held your breath while Killer’s hands slowly spread open your cunt with his thumbs, whistling at the view. 

“Yer real pretty, you know?” Killer praised you, “Prettiest pussy I’ve seen. Look at how wet ya are, too.” Killer chuckled and released your walls from his fingers before asking, “Can I touch? You can say ‘no’ - but only if you don’t want me to touch you, not for you to default back to tryin’ t’please us.” You scoffed and bit-back your smile before nodding down at him.

“You can touch me. It’s okay,” you confirmed. Kid squeezed your shoulder with his hand before moving it towards your chest, “And you’re right. You do look good there, Killer.” You looked up at him and nodded in affirming his actions, which encouraged him to focus more on your body and learning it. You felt Killer’s hands move back down to opening your pussy and slowly exploring your body with a gentle touch. He was intentional, and his fingers felt both experienced and educated in their motions. He found your clit with ease and slowly pressed the pad of his index finger against it. 

Hissing at the touch, you furrowed your brows at the slight sting at the touch, which in turn encouraged Killer to move his finger down to your slit and slowly gather your arousal on his digits before returning. Now with slippery fingers, you bit your lip and tilted your head back into Kid’s embrace. 

“See?” Kid whispered against your ear, kissing your cheek softly, “Kil knows what he’s doin’. Makin’ sure yer wet and enjoyin’ yerself on his fingers. Do you like the big guys fingers on that pretty pussy of yours?” Kid slowly rolled your nipple within his hand while his biceps held you against his chest firmly, “I bet you do, don’t ya? Mmmm, yer archin’ into me.” Kid focussed his attention on Killer, checking in with him with a nod to encourage him along with his movements. 

Killer slowly began returning your slick juices up to your clit and rolling it beneath his fingers. His breath fanned over your bare cunt while he watched your body’s every reaction. He watched your clit throb and chased its movements with his fingers, moving from on and off, to back and forward, to small and intimate circles against your body. He could see how much arousal your body had pooling out of your slit and it encouraged him to continue on in the movements that quickened your breath and pulse. 

And just like that, for the first time in a long time, your body began to feel the first few sparks of an orgasm slowly draw in at the corners of your belly. Slowly fluttering, slowly rising, slowly beating alongside your heart into what you thought could be a possibility of an orgasm that never usually followed through with that rise you knew existed in fantasy. As soon as that thought entered your mind, your body responded by immediately tearing that thought from your head.

“You’re allowed to feel good,” Kid whispered in your ear, slowly moving his hand down to your belly and pressing on your middle, “Look at him, just playin’ with ya. Yer allowed to feel good, to wriggle into his touch and chase it. He’s gonna find it, babe. Don’t ya worry.” Your captain rolled his thumb over your belly before returning it up to your chin and cupping it in his palm. Slowly rising your face to meet his, he moved his chin down and pressed a soft kiss atop your nose while smiling down at you. 

Killer resumed his touch as if completely unaffected by your body’s refusal to heed the call of the pleasure he gave you. His touch was patient, was subtle and soft enough to cause your body to chase it. Without words, he gave you more pressure while your hips slowly rocked into his touch. Kid cooed down at you before rejoining your lips together and humming along with the pleasured whimpers your lips slowly sobbed. 

“Get out of yer head,” he mumbled into your lips, “Yer allowed to chase it. We’re gonna be here as long as ya let us be, okay?” Kid moved his lips to your ear while Killer chased your pearly clit with his thumbs, massaging it to the beat of your heart as if he knew it inside out. Pleasure bubbled at you, but ebbed away like foamy waves swallowed by a bay of sand. The frustration slowly returned to you as tears pricked your eyes and had you whimpering into the kiss. 

Pulling away from the kiss, Kid took a moment to study your features as you gazed up at him behind you. The quiver in your lip, the tears stinging your eyes, the pain on your face with that rise in pleasure in the dampening of your cheeks. Kid clicked his tongue before giving you two quick pecks on the lips, pulling back to tilt his head and whisper at you.

“He is determined, babe. Once he sets his mind t’somethin’ yer gonna need a fuckin’ crowbar to get the big guy off ya,” Kid nodded down to you, all with that smile you adored, “Yer’v got us on yer side, okay? You wanna cum, don’t ya?” Kid moved his hand to brace against your chest, holding you against himself more in a friendly embrace rather than an intimate one he was doing with you prior. He nodded down at you, encouraging you to whimper and nod in return, still with those tears of frustration slowly swelling against your waterline. 

“I don’t think it’s vaginismus,” Killer nodded towards your pussy while slowing his motions, “I ain’t hurtin’ ya, am I? You don’t have that sting on penetration, right? No tightness like an elastic band pulled too far apart?” Concern was laden in his tone while he gazed up at you. You shook your head ‘no’ while sniffing back your tears. “Then you just need to find that rhythm-, -I do, actually. All you gotta do is let me, doll.” 

“I can’t. It won’t work,” you whimpered, prompting Kid to hush you with another quick kiss before you continued, “You’ll get bored before I’m able to get there-.”

“-Just in case yer unaware or ignorant,” Killer interjected immediately, “I happen to actually like pussy. And there’s a pretty pussy in my face right now, and I am really enjoying lookin’ at it. I think yer more likely t’fall asleep t’me playin’ with it than me gettin’ bored, doll.” Killer chuckled before kissing your thigh with a gruff growl, “Get that thought out. Out now. Out of yer head.” Killer moved his lips down and bit you on the flesh softly, still eliciting a squeak from your lips while he returned back up, “You don’t need to do anything. I’m happy where I am, and yer so beautiful, it’s almost fuckin’ unfair. Boss, you need to see this pussy. It’s insane how beautiful she is.” 

“I know, I can see her from here, big guy,” Kid chuckled down at him over your shoulder, “You’re in love, ain’t ya?” Killer nodded before returning to playing in that slow, rhythmic, pulsating circular motion that your body responded to earlier. Kid chuckled before returning his attention down at you. “See, babe? We’re not goin’ nowhere. And if yer not hurtin’, we’re gonna stay here fer as long as ya let us.” Kid sealed his promise with a kiss that started sweet and continued on until he fogged your mind with the overwhelming presence of the man your captain was.

Little by little, and before you could work out internally what your body was doing, it began responding once more to the Massacre Soldier with his fingers slowly sliding in and out against your clit and your slit. He never entered, just focussing his attention on your clit and reading your body as if it were a book he knew by heart. Every word, every syllable, every author’s mistaken ink blotch at the corner of the tannin page - Killer found the part of your body that you felt as if you’d long-since forgotten. Just with a simple touch of his fingers, he began reading your every movement while you wriggled in his touch. 

Your hips moved against their will, slowly grinding against Killer’s hand while Kid had your focus on his kiss that came out of nowhere and overwhelmed your senses. His hand had you stationary in his grip, holding you firmly against his chest while the two of you paid no mind or heeded no attention to his hard cock digging in your back. 

“There it is,” Killer whispered against your thigh, slowly finding that rhythm that had your body responding and lips whining, “Oh, there she is. We found ya, didn’t we? Semi-circles in a figure eight, hm? Such a pretty girl. That’s it, grind into me. I’ve got ya.” Killer’s encouragement only caused a further flush to rise in your face. You found your belly tightening once more, only to again leave you-.

“-Nope,” Kid whispered against your ear, “That focus in your belly, keep it there.” Kid whispered against your lips, squeezing you against his chest and stealing your breath from every direction, “We’re here. Fuck that noise off, babe. Killer’s got you. Let him have ya. Let him have all of you.” Kid pressed his lips to yours and held your body hostage while Killer assaulted your cunt with his fingers, drawing on that motion and focussing on the symbols of passion carved into your skin. 

And there it was.

The light.

That light calling your name, drawing you to the edge and propelling you to jump from it into the abyss. 

It slowly attempted to call you away, but the joint effort of the captain and co-captain had your body present enough in the moment to draw complete focus. Your legs both tightened their muscles and pressed them outwards, locking into place while shuddering into the sensation. Tears pricked your eyes while your belly completely tightened at the corners, dragging out in the corners until the sharps severed the tension and exploded into a realm of fire it longed for.

“Cumming,” Killer whispered in a gasped breath, “Oh, look at you. You're cumming. Look at that pussy begging for me. Shit.” Killer continued his movements, watching your slit clench around nothing while the band of muscle was dampened by the silky slick pouring from your body as if it was weeping for him. “Gorgeous.” Killer continued to move his finger, watching your clit bob with the rhythmic thrum of your cunt, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” 

Despite his words, you were distracted by the sensation ringing in your ears and the kiss upon your lips. Your body reached its pinnacle and was thrown off it with ease, slowly rippling down into the awaiting hands of Killer while you began to cry into Kid’s kiss. 

You’d cum.

You came. 

On just a finger.

 And that finger hadn’t even been inside you yet.

“See, babe?” Kid spoke in a soft and sweet whisper, “We’ve got ya. Yer safe in our arms, alright?” He removed his lips from yours and made eye contact with Killer, batting his smoked-out lashes down at the first mate before uttering a statement that had you more nervous than beginning this evening ever did.

“Now give her another.”

“W-What?” you gasped, still reeling from the high Killer carved out of you to process what the captain was saying. Kid chuckled and slowly began kissing your cheek while moving his hand to play with your breasts. Your breath heaved and slowly ballooned your lungs to their natural capacity, only to then steal the breath you’d earned back via Killer’s lips sucking on your clit. Your body heaved forwards, drawn back into Kid’s arms while he played with your chest.

“You heard me, blossom,” he teased you, kissing your temple, “Now we know yer body can cum.” Kid’s thumb pinched at your nipple, slowly rolling the bud between his thumb and forefinger while you keened out a mourning wail. Killer paid your song no attention, focussing completely with laser-like precision on orchestrating your pleasure from the moment his eyes first met your body. His lips pursed and his kiss deepened, rolling your sensitive nub between his lips before his finger began sliding against your entrance.

“Can I put it in?” Killer asked you gently, still mouthing at you while he did so. You took a moment to dart your eyes along the ceiling before you gave a quick nod with a squeaked, 'yes', to which Kid verbalised with a quick, “She said yeah, bud.” 

It was almost unfair and hilarious to which Killer managed to tug the next orgasm out of you. He’d barely gotten a knuckle deep before your body reeled around him. Your cunt sucked on his fingers while the second orgasm hit you. Your mind could barely comprehend it, despite it being a much milder one than the one prior. Every lapping wave of your bliss rocked in time with Killer’s attentive kiss on your clit and fingers in your cunt.

“You’re cumming again, ain’t ya?” Kid asked with a broad grin. He chuckled warmly before leaning down and kissing your temple, “Look at you go, babe. Urgh, look at those legs shaking. Fucking seas.” He leaned down and moved his hand from your breast to hold your leg while it trembled, “Fuck, Kil. You got another one.”

“It’s so fuckin’ gorgeous down here, boss.” Killer’s voice drew you back down to the bed you were laying on with your soul intact with your body, “Back with us, doll? Hm?” He pressed his lips against your thigh, prompting you to squeak and move away from his touch. Killer chuckled and slowly slid his digits between your folds and smeared your arousal around your centre as if it was a precious nectar from the gods of the sea. 

Your body felt relaxed. Completely relaxed. More relaxed than it had been in years with that wall broken through with Killer’s expert touch. There was a moment where you were certain your eyes had eclipsed with a black cast over them, hiding you from the world while your body was struck by lighting. You were unsure when exactly you had started crying, but tears warmed your cheeks in that sweet relief you had been longing for - like a pain that had finally been balmed over by a friend’s embrace. With Kid’s hand holding you still, you grew limp in his arms while Killer continued exploring you gently. 

“Another one?” Kid asked you sweetly with a mischievous smile, “And don’t say ya can’t because we know ya can now. You want another?” He leaned down and kissed your forehead before moving his head around to see Killer. “You okay down there, big guy?” Kid chuckled menacingly down at Killer, whose smile reached his hidden cheeks beneath his mask, “You look happy, bud.”

“So happy, boss,” Killer beamed, “Fuck, this pussy is so gorgeous. You know that, doll? Prettiest sight in all the blues is havin’ the privilege of watchin’ her cum for me. You want another, don’t you?” Killer’s hand slowly slotted in and out of your slit, your pussy greedily sucking on his fingers as soon as they went inside you, “I think you do, but yer’v gotta tell me. Use those words fer me.” Killer stilled his fingers, tilting his head up in a way for you to see the blue hue in his hidden eyes. 

Taking a moment to catch your breath and come down from the secondary high he’d just given you, you slowly nodded your head alongside exhaling a shaken breath. He clicked his tongue and mouthed, ‘words,’ at you, prompting you to let out an audible confirmation.

“Yes.” 

Killer grinned and returned back his attention to your pussy, slowly leaning forward and pressing his lips to your crotch above your clit in a small kiss. You jumped in Kid’s arms and let out a swift squeak. Kid chuckled at you before pressing a kiss to your temple to encourage you on. Killer’s lips then slipped towards your clit and mouthed at your core in a way that felt more deep and intimate than any kiss you’d received. Kid, almost instinctively, moved his lips against yours and kissed you in tandem to the motions Killer was carving into your clit. 

The motion had your body tensing, causing Kid to grapple you further against himself and Killer body your legs apart. Your body, already sensitive with the pleasure he’d managed to get out of you twice, was reaching its peak once more - this time far more quickly than the others. Killer hummed against your pussy, vibrating his lips while gasping into you. Kid smiled into the kiss as soon as your lips began to whimper against his. 

Sobbing, keening, mourning: that was the sound you’d elicited against your captain’s lips as soon as Killer threw you over that resounding heap and into the arms of pleasure. He refused to unlatch his lips from your clit until it had finished causing your knees to buckle. The swirl of his tongue against your clit beneath the closure of his lips was enough to have you continuing to softly gasp and wail until you finished riding through the waves of your orgasm. 

“Look at you, pretty,” Kid chuckled into your kiss before removing his lips from your own, “I knew you had it in ya. Look at that. Are we at three now, Kil?” Kid glanced down at Killer who swapped from latching against your clit to slowly mouthing and lapping at your slit. He gathered your arousal on his tongue and slowly slotted the muscle inside you before giving it a final kiss and rising up to sit on his calves. 

“Three so far, boss,” he hummed in thought, moving his mask back down to cover his face, “I don’t think I am even close to stopping. How are you down there, hm? Still comfy down there, boss, or do ya want to switch it up?” Kid hummed in though before nodding down at you with a glint in his eyes. 

“Depends,” he shrugged beneath you, “Ya wanna suck my cock, babe? I think it’d be nice for ya to have something other than a kiss to focus on, hm?” You looked up at him through your glazed, teary eyes and gave him a smile while limply attempting to roll onto your belly and off where he kept you hostage in his embrace. Kid chuckled and moved his arm to let you up, standing on the edge of the bed and unceremoniously dropping his pants. 

A blazing trail of red hair led from his belly down to his crotch, darker than the hair on his head, curly and almost sweet-looking in comparison to how intimidating the hard bulge of his angry cock looked. His flushed tip was red and shiny with how much blood was used to pump it full of need, veins bordering his shaft with their swollen presence. Precum slowly dribbled from his slit while watching you slowly crawl over to the edge of the mattress. 

“Do you like anything in particular, captain?” you asked sweetly, still staring up at him with eyes glazed with relief and glassy with fallen tears, “I can learn from your sounds, or you can teach me.” You slowly reached for his shaft, only to fall back onto your chest while Killer’s legs encircled around your thighs and tugged you back into his body. You laughed and looked over your shoulder towards Killer, who’s pants were also dropped in the process of Kid rolling over to the edge of the bed. 

“Should be askin’ you that, doll,” Killer smiled beneath his mask, “You okay with me goin’ inside ya wrapped, or can I go in without one?” He gave your ass a gentle slap before soothing you over with his palm, “I want to make ya cum on me, and I gotta respect ya preferences.” Killer slowly massaged your ass and focussed on the way your body felt in his hands before returning his fingers back to your slit and slowly playing with your body. 

“I-... I’m on birth control and I’m clean,” you nodded towards him, “You guys know I don’t take up on casual flings the way the rest of us do.” Killer nodded at your words and moved his mask up to glance at Kid through his ports while you continued, “I prefer it raw, but if you want to wrap it, I won’t stop you. Just as long as you move the band down and hold it if you’re fucking me roughly so it doesn’t snag inside me.” Kid chuckled down at you and turned your attention back to him with his hand gently cupping your chin and tilting it up at him. 

“Yer a little shit, babe,” he praised you with a sweeter smile than the one he’d offered you prior, “Now, before I get my cock in ya mouth and Killer puts his in that pretty pussy, give us yer hard boundaries so we don’t accidentally do something yer not into.” Kid slowly slid his thumb up and pressed it against your lower lip and smoothed over the brim to maintain your attention. 

“I don’t particularly enjoy being man handled into a position where I’m turned into a little ball and fucked like that for over ten minutes,” you nodded up at him while kissing his thumb, “I can do a mating press, but it has to be for under ten minutes or I start getting dizzy from the lack of oxygen going up towards my face.” You turned your attention towards Killer and slowly said something you haven’t thought you’d ever say to your captain and his first mate, feeling rather sheepish while your lips mentioned it, “While I’m fond of anal play, I haven’t done any preparation for it. I’ve been to the bathroom a few hours ago, but I haven’t done anything to allow for that as an option tonight. I-I mean, I can do that now-?”

“-It’s okay,” Killer nodded down at you before giving your ass another swift slap, “I don’t want to get you out of this position enough to prepare for that possibility. I like ya as ya are right here.” He moved his hand away from your slit before he lined up the tip of his cock with your slit, “No cock in the ass. Got it. Fingers, though?” 

“Happy with fingers,” you giggled at him while returning your attention to your captain with a sly smile, “What about you, boss? Are you happy with a finger or two while I suck your cock?” You slowly moved your hand against his thighs and up towards his ass, prompting him to swat at you with his hand and tap his cock against your bottom lip.

“You just worry about suckin’ on this. I doubt it’d be yer main focus while the big guy is back there,” Kid chuckled before slowly rubbing his cock amongst the seam of your lips, asking you wordlessly to open your lips, “If it gets too much for ya, focus on making those pretty little sounds rather than gettin’ me off, okay?” You rolled your eyes at his words before slowly parting your lips and taking him into your mouth. As soon as you moved past the curvature of his tip, you felt Killer begin to press his blunt cock-head against your slit. 

A low moan escaped the lips of your captain while you slowly bobbed your lips along his cock, only to then chuckle as soon as you let out a moan of your own at the contact of Killer slowly rocking inside you. He let out a pitched laugh of his own before gulping back the squeak and pushing it in further. When his cock finally met the apex of your cervix, you let out a small squeak at the pressure, prompting Killer to slowly retract his cock until it was almost completely sated inside you. 

“Bit big, huh?” Kid chuckled down at you, “Killer’s got such a pretty cock. Almost a shame yer only feelin’ it and not seein’ it. Pressure okay?” Killer continued to rock inside you without pushing in his whole length, ensuring it didn’t hurt you while he enjoyed feeling your cunt wrapped around him. You nodded and whimpered against Kid’s cock before returning your movements with vigour. Kid chuckled once more and made eye contact with Killer before nodding to him and allowing you to relax into his cock.

Eustass Kid had a very beautiful cock. There was something about the way the veins felt on your tongue that helped you feel soothed almost. His bulbous head slowly found its way to the back of your throat, prompting you to relax your tongue and flatten it against his legth to allow for more of his thickness to occupy your throat.

That was until Killer's cock hit something in your belly that didn't feel quite right. It wasn't a pain, not an unpleasant sensation, but not something you'd normally feel pressed inside you. It was like the curviture of his cock reached something in your belly that felt like your body needed to go to the bathroom while being completely full with air and liquid. You whimpered against Kid's cock, prompting the redhead to look down at you and reach down with his hand. Slowly caressing your cheek, he tilted his head and examined your face for any sign of pain. Finding none, he nodded to Killer and went right back to keeping you grounded on with his shaft between your lips.

"Yer'v cum three times, babe," Kid nodded down at you, "Such a pretty little thing cumming so pretty like that, by the way. Look even prettier with yer lips wrapped around me." Kid tapped your cheek twice with his index finger. You responded immediately by looking up at him while slowly bobbing your head along his shaft. Lathering his length in your saliva, you attempted to maintain focus on making Kid feel good by swirling your tongue against his tip before moving back down in a repetitive motion.

Keeping the rhythm steady was easy.

Maintaining it while Killer reached his hand around your waist and played with your clit in that same movement was harder.

You squeaked on Kid's cock while Killer's continued to slowly knock your breath from your lungs with every in-thrust. He kept the motion fluid enough that you could feel the sensation of a steady build up towards another climax, but this one felt different. It was more. It was a sensation you were not used to at all - but what sensation were you accustomed to, being one that had never had an orgasm and found yourself maliable like putty in Killer's steady hands while Kid's voice guided you on.

"There ya go," Killer gasped behind you, "Mmngh-, I can feel that pretty cunt fluttering around me, doll. There's somethin' happening. Yer gonna cum, ain't ya?" Killer moved his fingers away from focussing on your clit and pressed the heel of his palm against your core instead. Holding you in place one handed, he used his other hand to steady your thigh while continuing that harsh pace not quite reaching all the way down to his crotch.

A bulb of light bloomed in your belly, but also felt uneasy to the point where you panicked on Kid's cock in your mouth.

"Kil?" Kid gasped, "What's goin' on?" The captain looked up at his first mate who continued his motions without hesitation, only getting harder on his in-thrusts and building up momentum. Kid tilted his head to the side before the two of them worked in unity to remove both cocks from you and flip you onto your back with Killer still kneeling between your legs.

Immediately, Killer filled your cunt still throbbing from his cock with two of his fingers and pressed the heel of his palm down on your clit to add pressure. Your mind was dizzy and fogged with confusion at what was going on, but your body refused to give up on that orgasm Killer was building in you. The blonde found that uneasy spot inside of your body and curled his fingers into it, tugging against your walls until your ring of muscle began sucking on his fingers. Your surprise release was followed by a stream of fluid from your body you had no context for. It felt like you were peeing yourself, but not the same sensation. Your entire soul felt ripped on fire while Killer removed his hands from your cunt and allowed you to cum by yourself.

The scream your mouth spurted was loud enough you were sure it was just the ringing in your ears and not from your own throat. The pleasure was intensified by the fact both men were cheering for you when you returned to consciousness, blissfully ignorant that you had even lost the consciousness to begin with. Kid appeared happiest, especially with the way he'd returned to kneel beside you on the bed while Killer gawked behind his mask down at you.

"Doll." Killer's awe-stricken voice whispered down at you, "Oh, doll." Reaching up behind the mask, Killer withdrew the pin of his hockeymask and tossed it to the floor in a way uncharacteristic to his earlier methodological approach to his attire. "I was gonna ask ya if ya knew you were a squirter, but this is the first time yerv had an orgasm with a partner, right?"

"F-…" you panted, shaking your head and slowly rising your hands to cover your face, "…First time… At all."

The silence in the room was only broken by the three of you panting together.

Until laughter eclipsed the panting in a large and upragious gaggle. The pitched laughter from Killer was only overtaken by the loud bark of your captain that you mirrored in your own. It was a joy you couldn't name. Something new, inviting, soft, and friendly. Killer was covered in so much of you that you didn't know what to do with, and your body felt like it had depleted the entire stock of what you had been unable to find.

And not before long, that laughter slowly became sobs. Through quivering lips, you drew your hands up and hid your face while your shoulders shook with a violent and relentless wave of relief. Your heart couldn't keep up and your mind refused to put a lable on the way your body felt. Sobbing was more of a relief than you thought it would be. The expulsion of your feelings alongside your four orgasms was hard for you to process.

Two warm bodies lay either side of you and their voices began slowly cooing down at you from both sides. As soon as their arms wrapped around you and held you tightly to them, you steadied your breathing in time with theirs and grounded yourself to them. Their heartbeats were not as laboured, and it was easy to find your body catching up to them once more. Steadying your breath, you let out a shaken exhale and slowly nodded your head down with your eyes fluttering open from their wet close.

"S-Sorry," you smiled at them, "I just… It's a-… A-…" You couldn't find the words to explain what you were attempting to speak, only managing to find them as soon as your eyes met with the navy in Killer's tourmaline eyes. The blue-green hue was enough to rip another gasp from you as you breathed the word in synchrony with the two men.

"Relief."

"Aye," Kid nodded, kissing your shoulder while you continued to gaze up at Killer, "I bet it's a big one, babe. I can see how much pressure it's taken off ya. Especially in yer shoulders." You couldn't bring yourself to look away from Killer's eyes, no matter how gentle Kid's kisses felt against your skin. It was the first time you'd seen his entire face, and it was mesmerizing to the point of extreme unfairness. He was beautiful. Pretty, even. You could see why he would hide his face from others - maintaining his exterior hardness by masking his beauty with a fearful monicker.

"You must be feelin' better, hm?" Killer whispered at you. Your eyes were momentarily drawn down to his lips while he smiled at you. His purple lip-paint was smeared by his earlier ministrations, overflowing down his lower lip and onto his chin; both marbled by your desire marked into his skin.

Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips into Killer's. His shock was spoken into your lips with a hiccupped squeak, yet he returned the kiss once he recovered. Kid chuckled at you and removed himself from the bed while you inadvertantly crawled on top of Killer. Continuing the kiss, you tilted your chin and rolled his lips beneath yours in a practiced and dominating way. The flavour of lip-paint mixed with your lust was enough to spark a fresh wave of desire in you once more.

Oh shaky knees, you straddled Killer's lap and coaxed his cock inside you without breaking the kiss. Killer hissed into your lips as you sunk onto his cock. Moving up from your kneeling position, you planted your feet either side of his body and bounced against his lap until his cock was completely seated inside you. You could feel the shift in his shaft curving into your belly and pressing against the underside of your clit while you bounced against him.

"W-Well, then," Killer stuttered once he broke the kiss, allowing you more anchor to bounce freely with your momentum against his belly, "Look at you go. F-Fu-uck-! It's a bit deep, doll. You, o-oh, fuck, you okay?" The clapping of skin against skin caused you to pick up reserves of your stamina before your muscles began to burn in the base of your thighs. Killer drew his hands up to collect your ass, curling his biceps with you in his grip to rock you down and against him.

Just as your legs began to scream at you for abusing them, Kid returned to you and chuckled down at you. He moved his hand around your waist and steadied you once more against his chest while Killer took your weight in his arms with ease. You slowed until you were flush with Killer's lap, letting your body become used to his size until your belly adjusted accordingly.

"Guess what we're gonna do now, pretty girl," Kid whispered in your ear softly, pressing a kiss to the outer shell before he moved his hand to the front of your body, "We're gonna both fuck ya. I know you said no anal, and we're gonna respect that." Kid's kiss slowly moved down to your neck and grazed along your skin until you felt one of Killer's hands move to line Kid's cock up with your slit. You sucked in a sharp breath, tensing up and mentally preparing yourself for the pinch - until Kid's hand moved to your clit and placing a small sphere against your clit while adding, "But we're gonna make it feel nice to have two cocks inside that pretty pussy, aren't we?"

As soon as you began to feel that gliding pinch of another cock entering your slit, Kid ignited the sphere and it immediately roared with a fizzing sensation against your clit. It felt like an appology for the feeling of fullness while they stretched your cunt out on the two of them. Killer groaned out a whine that sounded like, "tight," while you squeaked at the sensation. You were not unfamiliar with vibrators, but the way these two were manhandling you as if you weighed nothing while focussing on your pleasure alongside their own was endearing.

"C-Captain! Full-!" you squeaked while your legs shook and felt like your feet were stilted on jelly, "I c-can't stay still!"

"Let Kil carry ya," Kid whispered in your ear, "Relax into him while we make ya feel goo-… Fuck, this pussy is good. Fucking seas!" At the click of his fingers pressed against you, the captain ignited his powers and held the vibrator flush with you while moving his arm around your waist. "Don't worry," he reassured you, "We've both got ya. You ain't goin' nowhere, blossom."

Killer moved his hand from Kid's shaft once seated in you to your thighs and helped stabilize you while Kid used his impressive strength to curl you into himself. Your belly was full completely, and you went limp in their arms while they began to move. The two men were in unison in their movements, pistonning their cocks inside you with a hard clapping sound. The humming of the vibrator rose, compelling your chest to hollow itself with a large flurry of panting whines.

"M'not gonna last," Killer grunted while continuing to lift and drop you in time with Kid's thrusts, "Fuckin' can't with this cunt. Shit, doll. Yer gonna milk me dry. In- fuck- Inside okay? I can cum inside you? Please?" Killer's voice moved into a higher registry while he attempted to quiet himself enough to stifle his moans. "Sh-Shit, I can't pull out. Please let me know if I can cum inside you! Just g-ive me a 'yes'. Please? Please, doll. Yer gonna make me cum! FUCK-!"

"C-Cum inside me, Massacre Soldier," you whimpered as best as you could while Kid moved the vibrator to a higher pressure, "Fuck, fuck, fuck-! T-Too much! Too big! Please? It's-!" Your body continued to double over in intensity, all the while Killer puffed out before arching his back in a perfect bow. His lips dropped into a silent scream before his voice caught up with him.

While you were certain you had heard many beautiful sounds in your life, there was nothing quite as beautiful as the higher pitched whimpers Killer sobbed up at you. Through his trembling lips, Killer sobbed that sounded like a hiccuping laugh, all beautiful to the point that you felt your belly run hot and flutter in time with his pulsating length pumping his climax inside you.

"Fuck, look at you both," Kid gasped behind you, "You cum so pretty, Kil. Fuck, and it's hot. Fuck, just stay still for a second or I'll cum." The captain focussed on your clit with the vibrator for a moment longer, waiting while edging himself inside you. He listened to your body while it reached it's peak before rising the shudders of the sphere up another level higher. You couldn't speak. Your core immediately gushed and sucked Kid and Killer's cocks inside you while contracting around their thick lengths until you finally felt your body forced into the hardest rushing force of your climax.

"Fuck, just like that," your captain gasped at you, "Fuck. Milk my cock, baby. M'gonna fill ya up. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she's suckin' me so good. Shit, m'cumming." Kid's cock slowly released wave after wave of uncoiling ecstasy inside your body to merge with Killer's release while tears painted your cheeks in relief. With a few gutteral growls, Kid emptied himself inside you before slowly aiding you back down onto the bed beside Killer.

Kid moved your hand atop Killer's chest, ensuring you were adequately pressed together before wasting no time in getting up from the bed and running hot water in his ensuite. Dampening a towel in his sink, he returned to your side and immediately moved to press it against you perineum and soothe over your muscle. Not cleaning you up of the mixture of cum, but ensuring your slit remained untorn and void of ache. After holding it there for a few moments, he switched to cleaning your body while Killer tilted his head towards you and kissed your nose.

"You okay?" the blonde asked you sweetly, "Alive down there?" Using the reserves of your strength, your limp body allowed itself to be moved to better angles for your captain to take care of you all with the towel. You returned Killer's kiss by pressing one of your own against his nose before laughing gently.

"I'm better than alive," you smiled in return, "I just… I feel so much… So much relief, you know? It's like I can breathe after not taking in the right air, sun, or water. I'm… I'm just…" You moved away from your words after Kid moved beside you, turning your head and pressing a gentle kiss against his lips that he returned greedily before letting you go. You cupped his cheek from over your shoulder and swiped your thumb over the apple beneath his eye with a gentle smile.

"…I'm going to have so much to tell Wire tomorrow."

The three of you laughed together once more before settling into the bed beside one another, tucked into the sheets as one while you allowed the exhaustion of your sex finally have you slipping into a sound slumber. Despite the wobble in your legs on the morrow, the smile on your face was the first thing Wire noticed about you as he waved you over to enjoy breakfast beside him with the crew.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @mermaniaa @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @armiliadawn @thenotsofantasticlifestory @nerium-lil @sinning-23 @a-killer-obsession @saraptor-art @starchild-unnamed @hellkaiserinphoenix @cicadamoon

If you liked this fic and feel inclined to support me in my writing journey, my ko-fi link is here like a busking cap. Thank you so much for reading my works, it means so much to me!

[aceidentallyinlove]

[4] Where Flowers Bloom Again. || Marco x Reader.

Summary: After the fall of the Whitebeard Pirates, Marco has built a quiet life on Sphinx Island, spending his days as the village doctor and trying not to dwell on the ghosts of his past. But when a wounded young pirate arrives on the island, his peaceful routine is suddenly turned upside down. What begins as a temporary stay for you slowly becomes something more when you found an unexpected companion in none other than Marco the Phoenix, your doctor, and when the time comes for you to leave, you realize that maybe that's not what you want anymore.

Tags: angst?? i guess?? i just suck at writing it lol, Marco is bad at feelings and coping and,,, basically everything

Wordcount: 5.6k

A/N: Next chapter for y'all!! I'm gonna be really honest, the more I write the more I dislike it (but I always have this problem with my writing so I'm not surprised lol) so I hope someone else can appreciate what I can't!! Please like, comment and reblog! Divider credits to @cursed-carmine <33

Taglist: @laserbeyza (it won't let me tag you, If you see this please change your tumblr settings) (also if you wanna be added pls comment under the series masterlist post!)

[Previous. || Here. || Next.] [Series Masterlist.]

The weeks that followed bled into one another, blurring the lines between day and night seeminglessly. The village of Sphinx settled into a new, comfortable rhythm, and you were at the very center of it.

The “school” had grown. It wasn’t just a patch of dirt and driftwood anymore; it was a small, organized chaos of learning. You had managed to scavenge enough discarded slate and smoothed stones to create a rudimentary “textbook” system. The children were no longer just learning letters; they were learning to count, to map the tides, and to recognize the medicinal herbs that the village elders used.

You found yourself looking at the children differently now. You saw the spark of curiosity in Leo’s eyes, the way his small hands moved with growing precision, and the way they all looked to you for guidance. You had grown to love them - not with the soft, sentimental love of a parent, but with the fierce, protective love of a teacher who could not wait to see their full potential unleashed. 

And that was the problem. Because the more you loved the children, the more the horizon felt like a threat.

In the village square, everything was normal. You and Marco functioned with a professional, almost clockwork efficiency. He would pass you in the market, a polite nod of his head, a “Good morning, yoi,” and a brief, friendly exchange about the day's supplies. To the villagers, you were the dedicated new teacher and the reliable doctor, two pillars of their small community.

But the moment the doors of the clinic closed, or the moment you found yourself alone in the kitchen, the air turned cold.

The silence between you was no longer the comfortable, shared quiet you used to enjoy. It was a thick, impenetrable barrier built of everything you weren’t saying. Every time your eyes met, there was a momentary, electric flash of recognition - a memory of heat and skin and breathless cries - and then, almost instantly, Marco would look away. He would pull back, his expression settling into that calm, unshakeable mask of maturity.

It was maddening.

It’s just professional, you told yourself, even as your chest tightened with irritation. He’s being mature. He’s honoring what he said. It was just physical.

But his so-called “maturity” felt like a cold, calculated withdrawal. It felt like he was retreating into his fortress, leaving you standing outside the gates, wondering if you had misread the entire thing. You knew he had a reason - you could see the way he fought himself, the way his hand would tighten on a medical tool when you entered the room - but knowing he had a reason didn’t make the isolation any less cruel.

One evening, you were bringing a tray of tea to the clinic. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of purples and oranges. You pushed the door open, the hinges sounding louder than usual in the quiet.

Marco was hunched over a desk, the candlelight casting long, dancing shadows across his face. He looked exhausted. He always looked exhausted lately, as if the weight of the village - and the weight of whatever he was carrying and wouldn’t tell you - was physically crushing him.

“Tea,” you said, your voice a bit sharper than you intended.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours for a fraction of a second before he blinked and looked down at his charts. “Thank you, yoi.”

You set the tray down deliberately. “You’ve been working for six hours straight, Marco. Even a doctor needs to rest.”

“I’m fine,” he said, his tone professional. “Just a few more patients to process for tomorrow.”

“You're not fine,” you snapped, the irritation finally bubbling over. “You’re a ghost. You’re right here, but you’re not here.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Marco froze, his pen hovering over the parchment. He didn’t look up. He didn’t move. He just sat there, his shoulders rigid, the candlelight flickering in the hollows of his cheeks.

“I am being responsible,” he said finally, his voice low and dangerously steady. “I am ensuring this village stays healthy. I am being... what is required of me.”

“Is that all you are now?” you whispered, the hurt cutting through your anger. "Some set of requirements? You know none of the villagers would want this!”

He finally looked up, and for a heartbeat, the mask slipped. You saw it - the raw pain, the hunger, and the terrifying conflict raging behind his eyes. It was a look of profound, agonizing longing, and… grief. Fear.

But then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. The mask slid back into place, cold and impenetrable.

“I am a doctor, yoi,” he said and turned away from you. “And you are a teacher. We have duties to fulfill.”

You stared at him, a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to scream, to shake him, to demand that he stop being so damn clinical and start being human again. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t break the wall he had built.

You turned and walked out, the sounds of your footsteps feeling heavy and hollow. 

As you sat in your room that night, staring out at the stars you had taught the children to map, the realization hit you with the force of a tidal wave that threatened to drown you. The sea was calling. You were a woman of the wind and the waves, a person who lived by the compass and the current.

But as you watched the moonlight dance on the distant ocean, all you could think about was the way the stars looked from the village square, and the way the children’s laughter sounded in the distance.

Leaving was becoming an impossibility. You weren’t just teaching them how to navigate their island; you were learning how to belong to it, too. And the most terrifying part was realizing that you were starting to belong to him, too.

The sun was high and merciless when Silas, one of the village’s oldest residents, approached you. He moved slowly due to his age, but his eyes remained sharp and bright. He sat on the edge of the stone well, watching you organize a pile of smoothed river stones for the children’s counting lessons.

“It’s a fine thing you’re doing, Teacher,” Silas said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

“Thank you, Silas,” you replied, wiping sweat from your brow. “It’s just a way to… pass the time.”

“Is it?” He chuckled. “I think it’s more than that. I think you’ve planted a seed already, even if that wasn't your intention. And if you’ve planted a seed, you’ll need a proper place to let it grow. We all want to build you a school. A real one. With walls to keep out the rain and a roof to shade the little ones.”

You paused. A knot of apprehension tightened in your chest. “Silas, I... I don’t think that’s a good idea. This village is small. It’s mostly the elders and the children. A permanent thing like that... it’s a big commitment for a community that might not need it for long.”

You didn’t say the rest: I might not be here for long.

Silas leaned forward, his gaze steady. “We know you’re a pirate. We know the sea has a way of pulling people back to it. We aren’t fools, Y/N. But we also know that even if you leave, the school stays. The knowledge stays. So it's fine. Let us do that for you and the children.”

The sincerity in his voice left you breathless. Slowly, you looked around the square - at the weathered houses, the worn paths, the faces of the people who had begun to look at you not as a stranger, but as a fixture of their lives.

“If… if the village wants it,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, “then I will help.”

The construction began pretty quickly, just days after. The village men, fueled by Silas’s enthusiasm, spent their afternoons hauling timber and mixing mortar, despite most of their advanced ages. And, much to your internal chaos, so did Marco.

He had already taken on the medical needs of the village, but he seemed determined to shoulder the physical burden of the school as well. He would emerge from the clinic, his medical coat discarded, appearing in the square with rolled-up sleeves and a heavy hammer in hand.

The rhythmic strike of his hammer against a nail became the soundtrack of your afternoons. 

It was torture. 

You were supposed to be teaching the children under the shade of the large oak tree, but your eyes were traitorous. They constantly drifted toward the construction site. You watched the way the sunlight caught the sweat on the nape of his neck, how his back muscles rippled and bunched beneath his thin, damp shirt as he lifted heavy beams. Every time he moved, every time his shirt clung to the broad expanse of his shoulders, a jolt of heat flared in your gut, making it impossible to focus on whatever you were teaching at the moment.

And the awkwardness... it was suffocating. 

Whenever you had to pass him to fetch supplies, or when a child would run between you, the air would suddenly thicken. You could feel his gaze on you even when he was supposedly looking at a piece of timber. You knew he was thinking about the porch. You knew he was thinking about the way you had gasped beneath him. And you knew, with a terrifying certainty, that he could feel your eyes tracing the lines of his body, too.

But beneath the tension, a darker concern was growing.

Marco was… fading.

He wasn’t just looking like a ghost anymore; he was becoming one. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened even further. His movements, usually so precise and powerful, typical for a doctor and former first commander of the Whitebeard pirates, were now occasionally marred by a slight, tell-tale tremor in his hands. He worked with grim determination, as if he were trying to outrun something.

One afternoon, as the heat reached its peak, you watched him struggle with a particularly heavy piece of cedar. He gripped the wood, his knuckles white, his jaw set so tight you thought his teeth might crack. He heaved, a low, strained groan escaping his lips and for a second… he swayed.

Your heart leaped into your throat. You started to rise, your hand reaching out instinctively, but he steadied himself against the timber, his breath coming in ragged, shallow bursts. He didn’t look up. He didn’t acknowledge that you had seen him stumble. He simply wiped his face with a forearm and continued.

That night, the silence of the house felt even more swallowing. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the house settle. You waited. You waited for the sound of the floorboards, for the shadow at your window, for the restless movement that had become your nightly ritual of observation.

But there was nothing. Only the silence.

You realized then that he wasn’t even wandering the porch anymore. He wasn’t even in the house. He was simply... gone. You had no idea where he was, but you knew he wasn’t sleeping. He was running himself into the ground, perhaps to punish himself, or perhaps because the thought of closing his eyes and seeing you was more than he could bear.

“He watches them, my dear. Every single night, he stands there, but he never walks all the way. Not once.”

Shit, that scared you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your basket of slate tiles nearly slipping from your grip. The old woman - her name was Elara, a frail thing you’d only ever seen alone on her porch - was pointing with a gnarled finger toward the northern hill. The wind whipped her thin, gray hair across her face, but her eyes were fixed on the slope where the graves of none other than the legendary Whitebeard and Portgas D. Ace lay.

The dry grass shivered around her ankles.

“Who?” you asked, though your heart hammered a sudden rhythm against your ribs. You knew who, of course you did. A part of you just needed her to say it out loud.

“Our Marco,” she said, her voice raspy and with profound sadness. “He stands on the edge of the cliff, staring down at those grand memorials, but no step further. He watches them, as if he’s waiting for them to tell him it’s alright to rest and to grieve and to move on. But he won’t step into that hallowed ground. Never.”

She turned to you, her milky eyes piercing. Those next words were meant for you and you only. “He’s a man carrying an ocean of grief, child. And he thinks if he stops moving - if he stops working, stops helping us in Whitebeard's name - the weight of it will finally crush him.”

You stood frozen as Elara shuffled away, leaving you alone with the biting wind. The pieces of the puzzle, the ones you had been too self-absorbed to put together, suddenly clicked into place with a sickening thud. You were a navigator of a late pirate crew; you knew the history of the seas, the legends of the Great War, the stories of the Whitebeard Pirates. You knew about Marineford. You knew about Ace dying in his brother's arms and the loss of a legend that was Edward Newgate. You knew Marco was the one who had stayed behind to lead his remaining crew into the Payback war where they were ultimately defeated by Blackbeard.

He had told you, after all. And you realized he only told you because, at that time, everyone - including you - still thought you would leave. He told you because you were a stranger and he needed someone to listen, just once.

Oh, Marco.

The distance you had felt wasn’t just because of your weird sexual tension… Actually, you were fairly sure you were the smallest reason for why he was acting like this. No, it was him trying to keep his composure because if he let a single crack form in his armor, the dam would break. He wasn’t just tired or uninterested in you after he had slept with you once; he was scared. Or broken. Possibly both at once. He was the doctor for everyone else, stitching up cuts and setting bones, but he was a man who had never allowed himself to be stitched up. A wave of shame washed over you, hot and stinging. You had been frustrated by the way he acted, annoyed by his withdrawal, while he had been standing on a ridge every night, haunted by the ghosts of his past.

The next few days passed in a blur. You tried to bury the gnawing guilt under a mountain of lessons and activities.

“What does A stand for?” you asked Maya, pointing to a crudely drawn letter on a slate board.

“Apple!” she chirped, holding up a small, red fruit. The poor children still had a few troubles with the letters, so you decided it was time for a revision today.

“Excellent!” you praised, forcing a smile. The children’s bright faces were a temporary balm for your soul against the turmoil inside you. 

Meanwhile, the construction of the school continued. The sounds of hammers and saws filled the air, a constant reminder of Marco’s presence. He was there every afternoon among the other men. He moved with a practiced efficiency, lifting beams, sawing planks, his muscles coiling and releasing under the strain.

You watched him from under the shade of the old oak tree, your gaze lingering on the sheen of sweat on his brow, the way his shirt clung to his broad shoulders. The familiar spark of physical attraction was still there, a persistent, unwelcome fire in your belly. But now, it was tinged with a deep, aching sadness.

He looked perpetually exhausted. He rarely spoke, offering only grunts of effort or brief, clipped instructions to the other men. When your eyes met, which was rare and accidental, there was no flicker of the desire from that night. Only a carefully constructed blankness, a wall that was now higher and thicker than ever before.

You missed him. You missed him so much, not even the sex, but talking with him. Laughing with him. Enjoying each other’s presence like you did when he was still caring for you all these weeks ago.

And so, you decided that enough was enough.

The sun was dipping low that day. The men had just finished securing the last timber beam for the day, and a sense of tired camaraderie filled the air. Marco stood among them, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, listening to Silas recount an exaggerated tale of something you couldn’t quite make out. He looked utterly spent, his shoulders slumped, his eyes shadowed with a weariness that went bone-deep.

You approached the small cluster of men, your heart hammering against your ribs. This was it. No more dancing around the edges.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” you said, your voice cutting through the easy chatter. “Sorry, but I need to borrow the doctor for a moment.” You reached out, placing a firm hand on Marco’s forearm. His skin felt very warm, even through the thin fabric of his shirt.

A few whistles erupted from the men. 

“Go on, Marco! The teacher needs her private lesson!” Silas chuckled, a knowing glint in his eye.

Marco stiffened, his gaze snapping to yours. For a fleeting second, you saw a flicker of surprise, then that familiar, impenetrable mask settled over his features. He didn't protest or pull away. He simply let you lead him.

You navigated him away from the bustling construction site, toward a quieter spot near a stack of fresh-cut lumber. You gestured for him to sit on one of the smooth, planed beams. He did, his movements slow, as if every joint ached. You sat beside him and deliberately left enough space between your hips.

“Marco,” you began carefully, your voice trying to project a calm you didn’t entirely feel. You looked at his hands, calloused and strong, resting on his knees. “This... this can’t go on.”

He didn’t respond, just stared straight ahead at the distant ocean, his jaw clenched.

“The way things have been between us since…,” you continued, pressing on. “It’s not helping anyone. Especially not you.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Look, that night... on the porch, in your room... it happened. It was good, and we both enjoyed it. But it was just physical, right? Just like you said. And I think we both need to just... forget about it.”

He finally turned his head, his eyes meeting yours. They were dark, unreadable, but he was unable to hide the exhaustion in them.

“Forget about it?” he rasped, his voice rough. “You think it’s that easy, yoi?”

“It has to be,” you insisted, leaning slightly closer, your voice dropping to a near whisper. “Because you’re running yourself ragged. You’re barely sleeping. You’re carrying the weight of this entire village, and... and other weights too, I know.” You didn't mention anything more. Not yet. It was too soon, and you knew he had to willingly come to you and tell you once he was ready. “You need a friend, Marco. Someone you can talk to. Someone who can just... be there.”

You reached out, hesitantly, and placed your hand on his. His skin felt just like you had remembered. He didn’t pull away.

“I can be that person,” you said, looking directly into his tired eyes. “But not if we’re constantly caught in this... this tension. We need to forget that night ever happened, and just go back to being... normal. To being friends. We’re both adults, so I believe that we can do this.”

The silence seemed to stretch on forever after you finished speaking. You could hear the distant chirping of crickets starting their nightly chorus. Marco stared at your hand on his, then back at your face. His expression was a storm of conflicting emotions - relief, then disbelief, then a flash of something that looked like hurt. He looked like a man being offered water after years in the desert, but he was too afraid to drink.

“Friends,” he repeated, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. He let out a long, slow breath, a heavy sigh that seemed to carry all the burdens of his past. He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no. He just squeezed your hand, a firm, almost desperate pressure, before letting go.

He stood up, his tall frame looming over you. “I... I have more work to do, yoi. In the clinic.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the growing night, leaving you sitting alone on the lumber with the fragile hope of a new beginning fluttering in your chest.

The next morning dawned and you woke up feeling an odd mix of relief and apprehension. You had laid your cards on the table, however awkwardly and desperately. Now, the ball was in Marco’s court, and all you could do was wait for his play.

He was already gone when you ventured into the clinic for breakfast. The kitchen was meticulously clean, a half-empty pot of coffee still warm on the stove. He had left no note, no sign of his presence other than the lingering scent of his strong coffee. It was a familiar pattern, one that had become ingrained into the fabric of your days, but today it felt… different. 

You went about your morning routine, preparing for the children. The slate tiles you had dropped the previous day were scattered near the lumber pile, a stark reminder of Elara’s words. You picked them up, one by one, the cool stone a grounding presence in your hand. The image of the graves refused to leave you.

You frowned as you arranged the slate pieces into a neat stack.

The graves weren’t abandoned, you knew that despite never visiting them yourself. Because Marco still couldn't, the villagers did it for him. 

Your fingers brushed against a small cluster of blue daisies growing near the fence. Their petals were bright despite the poor soil. You gently tilted one of the flowers between your fingers. Blue daisies. In many places, they symbolized innocence, new beginnings and loyalty. A good flower, you thought. 

Your gaze drifted toward the distant hills and clicked your tongue softly. Perhaps it was the gardener in you. Perhaps it was simply impossible for you to leave flowers alone once you noticed them.

Either way, the thought lingered. The children arrived not long after, dragging driftwood slates and charcoal with them.

“Teacher!”

“Teacher, look! I practiced my letters!”

“Teacher, Maya stole my charcoal!”

The moment swept you away as always. Lessons began with laughing like always.

And so, the day passed. Then another. And the next morning, while gathering herbs near the western cliffs, you found yourself stopping beside a patch of other blue flowers and your eyes lit up instantly.

Delphinium. Not common on Sphinx. The blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, brilliant blue against the green hillside. It wasn’t a coincidence that you chose blue flowers twice. Blue often symbolized remembrance. A fitting sentiment.

Carefully, you dug around the roots, Not enough to damage them, just enough to relocate a few healthy plants. You carried them back in a basket alongside your herbs. No one questioned you, at least of all Marco. After all, you were always collecting flowers, and he knew that.

A few days later, Mika spotted you near the well with dirt beneath your nails and several packets of seeds tucked under one arm. “More flowers?” the older woman asked fondly. You looked down at them. They were a mix of white, yellow and even more blue. “Mhm,” you hummed, looking down on them with a thoughtful smile.

“ou planning another garden, Y/N?” She asked. You smiled. “Something like that.”

Nothing more needed to be said. The flowers disappeared one basket at a time. The villagers paid little attention, mostly because the active construction and taking care of the children consumed most of their time. No one thought much of it if you carried a few more flowers than usual with you.

Except perhaps old Elara. Because every few mornings, just after sunrise, before the children arrived and before the village fully woke, she would occasionally spot a familiar figure walking the northern path carrying fresh flowers. And every few mornings, that same figure would return with empty hands and dirt beneath her fingernails.

As you gathered the children for their lessons today under the shade of the growing school, the sounds of construction began, early as always. The rhythmic impact of hammers on wood echoed across the square. You saw Marco then, already at work, with his back to you and his movements efficient and powerful. He didn’t look up nor acknowledge your presence. He was focused solely on the task at hand.

The day passed in a careful dance of avoidance. When you needed to retrieve a tool from the area where he was working, you made sure to approach from a wide angle, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground. When he passed by the oak tree where you taught, carrying a heavy plank, he would simply nod curtly to the other men, while his eyes were never quite meeting yours. The air around him felt like a palpable shield, deflecting any attempt at casual interaction.

It was infuriating, but also heartbreaking. You had asked for normalcy, for friendship, but it seemed he had interpreted it as a complete withdrawal. He was enforcing the boundary you had proposed with a rigidity that stung. You wanted to scream, to shake him and remind him that “normal” meant talking, not acting like strangers. But the image of those graves, the understanding of the burdens he carried, held your tongue. He needed space, you reasoned, and perhaps this was his way of processing.

All you could do was take care of the one thing you know he couldn’t.

Days bled into a week, then two. The schoolhouse began to truly take shape. Walls rose, a rudimentary roof frame was installed, and the distinct smell of fresh-cut lumber mingled with the salty sea air. The children were ecstatic already. They’d often sneak away from lessons to watch the men work, and you could see their small faces rapt with admiration.

Your interactions with Marco remained minimal. Brief, clipped exchanges about necessary materials, or the occasional question about a child’s scraped knee. He was polite, professional, and still utterly distant. Yet, you found yourself observing him more keenly than ever.

You noticed the way his hands, so precise during surgery, handled the rough timber with a surprising gentleness when he thought no one was watching. You saw the subtle flinch when a loud bang of a dropped tool startled him, a tiny tremor that spoke of obvious frayed nerves. And you saw the lines of exhaustion around his eyes deepen with each passing day. He was still not sleeping, you knew that. The clinic light would often burn late into the night, and then, in the pre-dawn hours, you’d hear the faint sounds of him moving about, starting his day before the sun had even considered rising.

One afternoon, a particularly wild game of tag among the children ended with Leo tripping over a stray piece of wood. The poor boy landed hard on the ground, scraping his knee and palm. A high-pitched wail erupted from him.

“Leo! Are you alright?” you rushed over, kneeling beside him, assessing the damage. It was a nasty scrape, already welling with blood and grit.

Marco was there almost instantly, his large frame appearing at your side. His doctor’s instincts overrode whatever invisible barrier he had erected. He dropped to one knee, pulling a small, clean cloth from his pocket.

“Let me see, yoi,” he said in his familiar calm and authoritative voice. The familiar tone that always soothed you, even when you were the one injured many weeks ago. He gently took Leo’s knee, his calloused thumb brushing away some of the dirt.

“It hurts, Marco,” Leo whimpered, tears streaming down his face.

“I know, little one. But you’re a brave boy, aren’t you? We’ll clean this up, and you’ll be back to chasing Maya in no time.” He glanced at you. “Bring me some clean water and some antiseptic from the clinic. We’ll need to keep this from getting infected.”

You nodded, already moving. This was familiar territory, a return to your previous and efficient partnership. As you retrieved the supplies, you watched him distract Leo with his low voice murmuring reassurances while his large hand was surprisingly gentle as he held the boy still. It was a small, almost insignificant moment, but it was the first time in weeks that you felt a sliver of his old dynamic return.

When you came back, Marco was already preparing the wound. He glanced up, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes met yours. There was no awkwardness this time, no forced distance, only a shared concern for the child. It was a silent acknowledgment, and finally, a tiny crack in the wall.

“Here,” you said, handing him the small bottle of antiseptic.

“Thanks.” His voice was still clipped, but softer than it had been. He dabbed the antiseptic onto Leo’s knee, making the boy hiss and whine.

“Just a little sting, Leo,” you murmured, rubbing his back. “Then it will feel much better.”

“See? She’s right,” Marco added, a faint smile touching the corner of his lips. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but you saw it. A tiny spark of the man you knew.

After Leo was patched up and sent off with strict instructions to be careful, Marco stood, stretching his back. He looked at the half-finished school, then at the setting sun.

“Good work today,” he said, not specifically to you, but more to the lingering air. “We’re making good progress.”

You remained silent, just watching him. He seemed to expect no reply. He turned to leave, then hesitated. “Get some rest, yoi. And whenever you see him, make sure Leo keeps that bandage clean.”

“I will,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “You too, Marco. Get some rest.”

He didn’t respond, just walked away. But the conversation, however brief and mundane, felt like a victory.

The school neared completion. The roof was on, the windows were framed, and the interior was being fitted with makeshift desks and benches. The village buzzed with anticipation.

You found yourself spending more time at the construction site, not just observing, but actively participating when you weren’t teaching. You helped paint the interior walls and carved small, intricate designs into the wooden nameplates for each child’s desk.

Marco was always there of course. He still maintained his distance, but the forced awkwardness had begun to dissipate. Now, it was a comfortable silence, punctuated by necessary exchanges.

One afternoon, you were struggling to hoist a heavy wooden bench into place. It was awkward, unwieldy, and despite your best efforts, it kept slipping. “Ugh!” You grunted, straining, your muscles protesting.

Suddenly, a large hand appeared, steadying the bench. Marco, without a word, took the heavier end and together, you lifted it, guiding it into its designated spot against the wall. 

“Thanks,” you breathed, flexing your sore shoulders.

He just nodded, his gaze sweeping over the newly arranged classroom. “Looks good, yoi. The children will like it.”

“I hope so,” you said, a small smile touching your lips. “It’s almost ready for them.”

He walked over to a window, running a calloused finger along the smooth frame. “A proper place to learn, they deserve that.”

You watched him, noting the rare, almost wistful expression on his face. This was it. This was the opening.

“You know,” you began, keeping your voice light and conversational. “Silas told me you were the one who gathered most of the materials. That you spent days scouting the island for the best timber.”

He turned, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as if he hadn’t expected you to notice, or to care. “Someone had to. Good wood is hard to come by on this island, and I couldn’t let the elders do it.”

“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” You paused, choosing your words carefully. “It's… a way to build something that will last.”

He looked away, back out the window, his gaze distant. “Perhaps.” His voice was almost inaudible.

“It’s a good thing you’re doing, Marco," you pressed gently. “To… build something.”

He remained silent for a long moment, the only sounds the distant caw of a seagull and the gentle creak of the newly settled wood. Then, he turned fully to face you. His eyes were still shadowed, but there was a vulnerability there that hadn’t been present before.

“It’s... hard to build when you feel like everything you touch turns to dust,” he said. The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken grief.

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t need to. You simply met his gaze, offering a silent acknowledgment of the pain he had just revealed. You didn't try to fix it, and didn’t offer platitudes. You just saw him.

He looked at you for a long moment, then a slow, heavy sigh escaped him. “I should... I should check on the clinic supplies.”

“Of course,” you said, knowing the conversation was over for now. He was retreating, but not with the same defensive wall. This time, it felt like a retreat to process and to gather himself.

As he walked away, you realized that the silence between you was no longer awkward. And that made you very, very happy.

[reideneris]

i might get alot of flames for this but,

the x reader "consumers" on tumblr lowk are so entitled, i said consumer bcs these people do nothing to support the writers but complain about FREE fanfics that other people write for FUN and for the LOVE of the game. THEY DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING.

i'm so tired of you people who can only pressure these writers, make memes, and ridicule them for writing something that was not fit to your standards or liking.

you don't even write or contribute anything to the community, don't even support or atleast reblogs to the writers you actually like.

stop filling the tags with your consistent complaints about the fanfics that obviously wasn't meant for you (not to your liking) and start learn how to write.

[kokica1]

Love that Ryland Grace is the opposite of so many male protagonist "heroes" in media and yet he's still so incredibly brave, resilient, and strong. That flimsy little science teacher saves the day.

But he also,

Throws fits when things don't go his way. Not a "I'm a bad bitch" destroying everything-type fit, but tossing a trash can, breaking a screen-type fit.

Cries. A lot.

Pleads. He begs.

Doesn't answer the call to action.

Shows weakness. Being a coward and being fearful are two things he defines himself with.

Doesn't end up with the girl. In fact, that girl isn't even interested and he isn't, either.

Cherishes friendship over a romantic plot or something stereotypically brave like, "I'm going to save Rocky so I can save his world." No, he wants to save his friend, first and foremost.

Squeaks. He squeals. He screams, loudly and very high pitched. He whines. He complains. He physically struggles to open a jar. He's clumsy as hell. He makes some of the least graceful noises one can make.

Is not afraid to be the primitive species lowkey.

I love him and everything he stands for as a male protagonist. Men need to know that they can be just like Ryland Grace and still be just as much of a hero and a man.

[whatagrump]

Apparently a lot of people get dialogue punctuation wrong despite having an otherwise solid grasp of grammar, possibly because they’re used to writing essays rather than prose. I don’t wanna be the asshole who complains about writing errors and then doesn’t offer to help, so here are the basics summarized as simply as I could manage on my phone (“dialogue tag” just refers to phrases like “he said,” “she whispered,” “they asked”):

“For most dialogue, use a comma after the sentence and don’t capitalize the next word after the quotation mark,” she said.

“But what if you’re using a question mark rather than a period?” they asked.

“When using a dialogue tag, you never capitalize the word after the quotation mark unless it’s a proper noun!” she snapped.

“When breaking up a single sentence with a dialogue tag,” she said, “use commas.”

“This is a single sentence,” she said. “Now, this is a second stand-alone sentence, so there’s no comma after ‘she said.’”

“There’s no dialogue tag after this sentence, so end it with a period rather than a comma.” She frowned, suddenly concerned that the entire post was as unasked for as it was sanctimonious.

[thewritinggrindstone]

And!

“If you’re breaking dialogue up with an action tag”—she waves her hands back and forth—”the dashes go outside the quotation marks.”

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

Reblog to save a writer’s life.

[jaydove-writes]

Thank you

[localcanadiancryptid22]

Oh my god thank you. No wonder grammarly keeps complaining about my punctuation when I boot my writing up into word counter

[yourcomicprincess]

the concept of you and damian helping each other out with homework.

it was a little unconventional to have your boyfriend's middle school aged brother tutoring you in college calculus, but what needed to be done would be. in exchange you helped him out with his english homework.

currently his class was doing their poetry unit currently. it wasn't that he didn't have a grasp on english literature, no, it was the emotion and the freedom that poetry allows. this was a boy who liked structure, formulas, and certainty, which is why he was able to give you math help. since abstractness and subjectivity confused him, you were able to help; but do not get him started on freeform.

during one of the many evenings that damian shows up unannounced in your apartment, and finds you and his teenage brother huddled over the secondhand dining table in your shared apartment.

jason greets you by simply kissing the back of your head and ruffling damian’s hair to the boy’s dismay. he makes you two dinner and contributes his two cents from his love for classic literature. it was the closest thing to the universal experience of child and parent working on homework at the dinner table that either of them might ever know.

[my-love-all-mine]

Dick Grayson being a cheater is propaganda made by weird evil men at dc that man is a respectful YEARNER and you cannot convince otherwise

[dawnsarchive]

Heat-Seeking (Izou x Reader)

One Piece | Izou | 3.4k | Masterlist

On a ship as busy as the Moby Dick, the night watch offered a peace you would give up for very little. You loved the cool night air against your skin, adored the quiet offered in the later hours, and often spent the time alone with your thoughts.

The brisk winds brought with them a different consequence and you wandered into breakfast each morning with aching hands and fingers stiff. The warmth below deck always hit your skin in waves after hours spent above in the sea air but it never seemed to reach your hands quickly enough.

You drifted to your usual spot next to Izou, holding your hands in front of you and blowing gently over your skin. “Night watch is starting to get really cold now that we’re approaching a winter island,” you complained. “My hands have turned to ice. I think they’ll actually snap off if I move too fast.”

Izou hummed over his cup of tea, steam still drifting off the drink. “It’s hardly that cold,” he said.

You gave him a slightly unimpressed look. Then you reached out and rested your hand over one of his own. He flinched on instinct, the liquid in his cup swishing dangerously close to the rim.

“See,” you said, taking your hand back. “It’s freezing out there.”

“Do you not take a blanket or a coat with you?” he asked. “Gloves, at least?”

You smiled and rubbed your palms together. “Don’t have any good enough for the sea air. And dragging a blanket around is far too much work. But don’t worry too much about me, I’ll probably survive.”

He shook his head. “You have questionable survival skills.”

“At times,” you acknowledged.

The next morning when you joined him at breakfast, a second cup of tea waited by your usual seat. You smiled warmly at him as you picked it up, the heat seeping into your sore joints. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head toward you. “It’ll be the most effective way to keep you warm in the morning. Maybe your hands will defrost.”

You teasingly wrapped your hand around his wrist and he startled at the temperature. “We can hope.”

His eyes dropped briefly to where your fingers circled his wrist before he took another measured sip of tea as though nothing had happened at all.

It turned into a fun little game; resting your hand against him every time you returned from your night watches. He stopped startling eventually but he still gave you a look that made you laugh every time. He even started shifting his sleeve out of the way before you reached for him, subtle enough that you almost thought you imagined it the first few times.

He wasn’t the warmest person on the ship by any means. There were plenty amongst the crew who carried enough heat to chase the cold from your hands instantly. Somehow though, resting your fingers against Izou’s wrist or forearm always worked better than the tea he slid toward you every morning.

“I’m starting to believe you crawl down the side of the ship and sit with your hands in the ocean for hours,” he muttered.

“I think it’s the wind,” you said. “It’s been a little chilled.”

“I’m going to ask Marco to remove you from the night watch at this rate,” he warned. “Although you may enjoy the air, I think you’ll be far less useful once frostbite finishes claiming your limbs.”

“If I lose an arm, I’m sure he could reattach it.”

Izou gave you a firm look. “That’s decidedly not how his powers work.”

“Maybe he couldn’t with his phoenix fire but I trust that he’s a good enough doctor.”

Izou shook his head slightly. You snuck a hand under his sleeve, pressing your fingers into the warmth of his forearm. If nothing else, he was rapidly learning how to function at breakfast with one hand.

Days passed with the same routine until one morning when you wandered into breakfast and found a fine black box sitting neatly beside your cup. Dark silk ribbon had been wrapped carefully around it, the knot pristine enough that you immediately looked toward Izou.

He nudged it toward you once you approached. “For you. Seeing as you insist upon inflicting pain onto yourself.”

You frowned but lightly pulled on the ribbon. Inside the box lay a pair of perfect leather gloves, stitched in a fine, strong thread. Their rich colour was mesmerising. They were the most beautiful gloves you’d seen and you had no idea where Izou could have even gotten them from.

“These are beautiful,” you breathed out, gently lifting them from the box. “Where did you get them?”

“I commissioned them for collection prior to our arrival on the last island,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “They should fit.”

And they did. They were warm and elegant but flexible too. You ran your fingers over the back of one after you put it on, rolling your hand around to test them.

“How did you get it so perfect?” you asked.

He inclined his head, smile faint but proud. “They’ll take some time to break in but at least now you should keep all your fingers.”

You placed them carefully back into the box. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

“Try not to ascribe too much selflessness to it. This is an act of self-preservation.”

You laughed and reached for your cup of tea. The warm ceramic was a welcome balm against your still chilled fingers. It was impressive that Izou always managed to have it at perfect drinking temperature by the time you arrived.

You were halfway through breakfast when Izou glanced over at you. “Are you not cold this morning?”

“Hm?”

He nodded to your hands. “You only received the gloves now. I imagined my suffering might still last until tomorrow.”

You held your tea up for him to see. “As a thank you, I’ll give you a break from your torment,” you teased. “I did see something pretty interesting last night though. A young sea king or… at least a very small one.”

For a second, something strange flickered across Izou’s face; a slight displeasure that was smoothed away back into perfect composure immediately. He adjusted the sleeves of his kimono and nodded to you to continue.

“That’s quite unusual.”

You nodded, not quite sure what to make of his momentary unhappiness. When it didn’t come back, you brushed it off as nothing. If it truly bothered him, you assumed he would mention it eventually.

The gloves quickly became part of your usual wardrobe. The leather softened more with every wear until they fit like they had been made with your hands in mind from the start. Even on warmer days, when the sea breeze carried no bite at all, you still found yourself reaching for them before leaving your room. They were fashionable enough to suit just about any outfit and they provided a nice talking point.

Mainly because of you. You wouldn’t stop talking about them.

Everybody on the ship had heard at least one explanation about how amazing the gloves were and how much you appreciated Izou for the gift. By the third day, several members of the crew had started finishing your sentences for you whenever the subject came up.

It got to the point where, when you joined Izou and Thatch for dinner, the chef pointed a spoon at you the second you approached the table. “I don’t want to hear about the gloves. I know they’re nice but I’ve heard it enough.”

“I haven’t even said hello yet,” you protested softly.

“Because you were about to start talking about the gloves.”

Haruta snorted loudly from further down the table. “He’s right. You’ve talked about nothing else for days.”

Izou looked toward the gloves with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Not pleased but not exactly annoyed either.

Thatch noticed immediately. “Oh, now that’s interesting,” he muttered into his drink.

“Be quiet,” Izou said without missing a beat. “It’s warm enough that you don’t need gloves right now.”

“I know but they’re so soft and lovely,” you said, holding them up for him to see. “It’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, I just didn’t anticipate such enthusiasm for them.”

You smiled fondly. “They’re such a lovely gift. I appreciate them a lot.”

“They’re only gloves.”

You frowned, not having expected the sharp dismissal. You were far from the only person giving him strange looks; even Thatch had paused in his conversation with Jozu, his brows furrowed in Izou’s general direction.

“Only gloves?” he repeated.

Izou ignored him.

“But they’re so thoughtful and well-crafted,” you protested.

“You might be overstating their features. You praise them so much you would think I forged them from gold.”

“They’re the nicest thing I own.”

“I think that says a great deal more about the quality of your wardrobe then,” he said. “I should consider getting you some more articles then.”

You smiled, tension somewhat broken by his dry comment. You nudged him with your elbow gently. “Izou, they’re my favourite because you gave them to me. I would love them no matter what they were.”

Something softened briefly in Izou’s expression before he lowered his gaze toward his drink again. He hummed in acknowledgement but said nothing else about the subject.

Two days later, the gloves disappeared.

There was no way you could have lost them. You’d worn them for the first portion of the night before you went to bed. And whenever you did that, you’d always take them off and delicately put them into their box which sat atop your dresser.

But when you went to get them before breakfast, they were gone.

The box still sat where you had left it but when you pulled it open, the folded paper inside rustled empty beneath your hands. No leather. No gloves. A strange cold panic settled in your stomach almost instantly and within minutes you were dragging through your room hard enough to rattle furniture against the walls.

You went through every other person’s hammock or bunk in case it had been moved. You stuck your head into the dustiest parts of the room and got rewarded with nothing but several sneezing fits.

Your next stop was the crow’s nest where you almost gave Haruta, who was half-asleep on his watch, a heart attack. He insisted there were no gloves up there and you almost landed on Fossa when you clambered back down.

You moved across the deck with enough frantic speed that crew members had to step aside before you collided with them. Boots hammered against the wood as you cut between groups, your eyes catching desperately on every dark corner and unattended surface.

Vista caught you as you rushed out of the dining room, already planning on making your way toward the galley. You were never in there but maybe somebody else had seen it.

“Missing something?”

“My gloves,” you said. “You know, the leather ones that – ”

“I know your gloves,” he interrupted. “The ones that Izou had specifically made for you. The same pair he spent weeks planning for.”

“I mean, I don’t know about him spending weeks on them…”

“I do,” Vista reassured. “Thatch wouldn’t stop complaining about Izou hovering around the galley while organising it.”

That made it so much worse… You rubbed your arms and gave him a desperate expression. He shook his head with a slight chuckle.

“Alright, let’s see if we can find them then. I remember you wearing them last night.”

“I was,” you said with a nod. “I remember taking them to my room but I’ve looked there twice now and found nothing.”

On Vista’s instruction, more than half of the fifth division found time between their daily duties to search the entire ship for your gloves. You helped where you could, buzzing about between the group as they checked every barrel and table.

Enough people climbed into the crow’s nest that Haruta eventually leaned over the railing with murderous intent in his eyes.

“There are no gloves up here!” he shouted across the deck.

“Check again!” somebody yelled back immediately.

“I will start kicking people off this ship!”

You winced when he did so, looking around to see if Izou was anywhere to be seen.

You weren’t sure you were ready to tell him yet.

“I know you’ve lost your gloves,” Marco said when you made your way to the infirmary before you even started explaining yourself. “I don’t understand why half the ship needs to come to a halt because of it though.”

“It’s only the fifth division,” you defended.

Marco gave you a flat look. “It’s not only the fifth,” he muttered. “I’ve caught about a third of my division looking around the medical bays. Fossa just checked my office for gloves.”

“Maybe they ended up there.”

“Why would they end up there?”

“They’re really important to me, Marco. If I’ve lost them, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Have you checked the rooms?”

“Twice. Just not the commander’s quarters aside from Vista’s.”

“Why would they be there?”

“They wouldn’t but I’m leaving nowhere unchecked. Speaking of…”

Marco sighed and still allowed you to go through both his office and personal quarters despite you never having been in either before. You were also needing to avoid Izou as best you could, ducking away when you spotted him on the storage deck.

You convinced some of the other commanders to let you look through their quarters too but eventually ended up pacing empty-handed next to Vista.

“I have an idea,” he said. “But I don’t know if you actually lost them.”

“Do you think somebody could have stolen them?”

He tapped a rhythm against the hilt of a blade, his gaze scanning over the deck. “I don’t think anybody would steal them but if they were truly lost, my men should have found it by now. Did Izou simply give them to you because your hands were cold?”

“That’s what he said,” you acknowledged quietly. “Though I think he was getting tired of freezing every morning. I have watch again tonight and I’m not used to this weather anymore.”

Vista hummed, clearly thinking. “I think I know where they might be. I’ll check and keep you updated.”

Unfortunately, whatever his plan, it didn’t result in your gloves returning before evening came along. The only reprieve you got was that Izou didn’t arrive at dinner and that both reassured and panicked you in equal measure. The guilt you had about him knowing that you’d lost his precious gift weighed heavily on you.

And your night watch started out even more miserable.

Marco offered to switch your schedule for the evening but you rejected it, planning to spend your free time searching over the deck. Again.

Instead, you ended up leaning uselessly against the railing, accomplishing very little beyond staring out across the dark ocean. The wind curled relentlessly around your fingers and knuckles, cold enough now that every flex of your hands felt tight and uncomfortable without the gloves.

It was far from the coldest temperature you’d sat through but it felt all the worse.

And you were kind of missing Izou too. You weren’t used to avoiding him.

You didn’t know how long you stood, watching the ocean pass instead of actually doing what was required of you, but your mourning was interrupted by a smooth voice.

“Are you plotting the best way to get frostbite again?”

You startled; turning to find Izou standing far closer than he should have been able to get without you noticing. You must have been completely lost in your thoughts to not notice his approach – as quiet as he moved, it was still with a steady enough pace that you normally recognised his approach.

The wind shifted strands of dark hair loose across his face, silk catching briefly in the moonlight as he waited for your answer. The lantern glow from further down the deck softened the sharpness of his expression but did little to hide the quiet attention in his eyes. You smiled, a shaky and uncertain thing.

“It’s a nice evening for it,” you answered.

You wrung your hands together, joints slightly stiff from the cold. Izou’s gaze dropped to them for a second before he met your eyes.

“You look cold.”

“I am,” you admitted, slipping them behind your back on instinct. “But nothing too bad… I… I lost the gloves. I’m so sorry Izou. I searched everywhere for them and they’re nowhere. They must have gone overboard because I checked every corner of the ship.”

“I know,” he said. “I noticed how many on the ship were looking for them today.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologised again. “I tried my hardest to keep them safe.”

“Don’t apologise. There’s nothing to be so upset over. They’re only gloves.”

You brought your hands back around to breathe on them, pressing your palms together. “I know but I appreciated how warm they kept me. And they saved your arms too.”

Izou sighed, stepping closer smoothly. “I hardly complained about it though I fear on a night like this, my sleeves may not provide you with enough warmth at all.”

“It’s really okay,” you said with a small laugh. “I’m not losing fingers yet.”

His gaze lingered on your hands for a moment too long and then he held out his hand. “I’m not certain we should take that chance. After all, you clearly have poor circulation.”

You almost laughed but rested your palm carefully against his. His hand was far warmer than the night air, heat sinking quickly into your stiff fingers. Before you could pull away again, Izou stepped closer and guided your hand toward his waist, settling it lightly against the overlapping silk of his kimono.

Your heart stuttered almost to a stop, breath catching.

“Unless I’ve misunderstood your interest?”

His words were softer now, not quite unsure but still testing. As though he was waiting on you for an answer you’d yet to give.

“No,” you said, a little too fast and a little too honest. “I mean… that’s… thank you.”

You hesitated for a second before moving your hand properly. Your fingertips dragged lightly over the cool silk first, testing, before slipping beneath the edge of the fabric. The warmth of his skin startled you almost as much as the quiet breath Izou drew in. You immediately tried to move back but he caught your wrist before you could do so.

“Sorry,” you said. “I know it’s cold.”

“That’s why we’re doing this in the first place,” he said. “You already reach under my clothing all the time to touch my arms. I’m surprised this embarrasses you.”

A nervous chuckle slipped out before you could stop it. “This is very different to that.”

“Is it?”

You unfurled your fingers, pressing your hand gratefully against his warm side. You could feel his breathing beneath your palm, the steady rise and fall of his very well-muscled chest moving softly. Your heart stuttered dangerously hard in your chest but you managed to get yourself to breathe.

Izou leaned closer until his forehead rested lightly against yours. The gesture was so careful it made your chest ache. At some point, his free hand had found your other one too, fingers threading slowly through yours despite the cold still clinging to your skin.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The ship creaked softly around you and somewhere higher above, the sails shifted against the wind. Izou’s fingers remained loosely threaded with yours, steady and warm.

“I made a mistake,” he admitted. “Two, if only one that I truly regret.”

“What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t have given you those gloves,” he said. “I thought they would help you stay warm but failed to realise you would seek me out less in return.”

You smiled at that. “They were very nice gloves though. I liked them a lot.”

“I noticed that today. I’m considering returning them but I’ll only do so if you promise that you’ll continue to come to me when you’re cold.”

“Wait, you took them?”

“I thought that would be obvious.”

You huffed, unable to find space in your heart for any emotion other than relief. “Izou, that’s terrible. I was worried sick.”

“And I’m sorry for that but I don’t regret this outcome. Do you?” You laughed and tilted your chin a little closer to him. “Not at all.”

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase

[dawnsarchive]

Heat-Seeking (Izou x Reader)

One Piece | Izou | 3.4k | Masterlist

On a ship as busy as the Moby Dick, the night watch offered a peace you would give up for very little. You loved the cool night air against your skin, adored the quiet offered in the later hours, and often spent the time alone with your thoughts.

The brisk winds brought with them a different consequence and you wandered into breakfast each morning with aching hands and fingers stiff. The warmth below deck always hit your skin in waves after hours spent above in the sea air but it never seemed to reach your hands quickly enough.

You drifted to your usual spot next to Izou, holding your hands in front of you and blowing gently over your skin. “Night watch is starting to get really cold now that we’re approaching a winter island,” you complained. “My hands have turned to ice. I think they’ll actually snap off if I move too fast.”

Izou hummed over his cup of tea, steam still drifting off the drink. “It’s hardly that cold,” he said.

You gave him a slightly unimpressed look. Then you reached out and rested your hand over one of his own. He flinched on instinct, the liquid in his cup swishing dangerously close to the rim.

“See,” you said, taking your hand back. “It’s freezing out there.”

“Do you not take a blanket or a coat with you?” he asked. “Gloves, at least?”

You smiled and rubbed your palms together. “Don’t have any good enough for the sea air. And dragging a blanket around is far too much work. But don’t worry too much about me, I’ll probably survive.”

He shook his head. “You have questionable survival skills.”

“At times,” you acknowledged.

The next morning when you joined him at breakfast, a second cup of tea waited by your usual seat. You smiled warmly at him as you picked it up, the heat seeping into your sore joints. “Thank you.”

He inclined his head toward you. “It’ll be the most effective way to keep you warm in the morning. Maybe your hands will defrost.”

You teasingly wrapped your hand around his wrist and he startled at the temperature. “We can hope.”

His eyes dropped briefly to where your fingers circled his wrist before he took another measured sip of tea as though nothing had happened at all.

It turned into a fun little game; resting your hand against him every time you returned from your night watches. He stopped startling eventually but he still gave you a look that made you laugh every time. He even started shifting his sleeve out of the way before you reached for him, subtle enough that you almost thought you imagined it the first few times.

He wasn’t the warmest person on the ship by any means. There were plenty amongst the crew who carried enough heat to chase the cold from your hands instantly. Somehow though, resting your fingers against Izou’s wrist or forearm always worked better than the tea he slid toward you every morning.

“I’m starting to believe you crawl down the side of the ship and sit with your hands in the ocean for hours,” he muttered.

“I think it’s the wind,” you said. “It’s been a little chilled.”

“I’m going to ask Marco to remove you from the night watch at this rate,” he warned. “Although you may enjoy the air, I think you’ll be far less useful once frostbite finishes claiming your limbs.”

“If I lose an arm, I’m sure he could reattach it.”

Izou gave you a firm look. “That’s decidedly not how his powers work.”

“Maybe he couldn’t with his phoenix fire but I trust that he’s a good enough doctor.”

Izou shook his head slightly. You snuck a hand under his sleeve, pressing your fingers into the warmth of his forearm. If nothing else, he was rapidly learning how to function at breakfast with one hand.

Days passed with the same routine until one morning when you wandered into breakfast and found a fine black box sitting neatly beside your cup. Dark silk ribbon had been wrapped carefully around it, the knot pristine enough that you immediately looked toward Izou.

He nudged it toward you once you approached. “For you. Seeing as you insist upon inflicting pain onto yourself.”

You frowned but lightly pulled on the ribbon. Inside the box lay a pair of perfect leather gloves, stitched in a fine, strong thread. Their rich colour was mesmerising. They were the most beautiful gloves you’d seen and you had no idea where Izou could have even gotten them from.

“These are beautiful,” you breathed out, gently lifting them from the box. “Where did you get them?”

“I commissioned them for collection prior to our arrival on the last island,” he said, not meeting your eyes. “They should fit.”

And they did. They were warm and elegant but flexible too. You ran your fingers over the back of one after you put it on, rolling your hand around to test them.

“How did you get it so perfect?” you asked.

He inclined his head, smile faint but proud. “They’ll take some time to break in but at least now you should keep all your fingers.”

You placed them carefully back into the box. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

“Try not to ascribe too much selflessness to it. This is an act of self-preservation.”

You laughed and reached for your cup of tea. The warm ceramic was a welcome balm against your still chilled fingers. It was impressive that Izou always managed to have it at perfect drinking temperature by the time you arrived.

You were halfway through breakfast when Izou glanced over at you. “Are you not cold this morning?”

“Hm?”

He nodded to your hands. “You only received the gloves now. I imagined my suffering might still last until tomorrow.”

You held your tea up for him to see. “As a thank you, I’ll give you a break from your torment,” you teased. “I did see something pretty interesting last night though. A young sea king or… at least a very small one.”

For a second, something strange flickered across Izou’s face; a slight displeasure that was smoothed away back into perfect composure immediately. He adjusted the sleeves of his kimono and nodded to you to continue.

“That’s quite unusual.”

You nodded, not quite sure what to make of his momentary unhappiness. When it didn’t come back, you brushed it off as nothing. If it truly bothered him, you assumed he would mention it eventually.

The gloves quickly became part of your usual wardrobe. The leather softened more with every wear until they fit like they had been made with your hands in mind from the start. Even on warmer days, when the sea breeze carried no bite at all, you still found yourself reaching for them before leaving your room. They were fashionable enough to suit just about any outfit and they provided a nice talking point.

Mainly because of you. You wouldn’t stop talking about them.

Everybody on the ship had heard at least one explanation about how amazing the gloves were and how much you appreciated Izou for the gift. By the third day, several members of the crew had started finishing your sentences for you whenever the subject came up.

It got to the point where, when you joined Izou and Thatch for dinner, the chef pointed a spoon at you the second you approached the table. “I don’t want to hear about the gloves. I know they’re nice but I’ve heard it enough.”

“I haven’t even said hello yet,” you protested softly.

“Because you were about to start talking about the gloves.”

Haruta snorted loudly from further down the table. “He’s right. You’ve talked about nothing else for days.”

Izou looked toward the gloves with an expression you couldn’t quite place. Not pleased but not exactly annoyed either.

Thatch noticed immediately. “Oh, now that’s interesting,” he muttered into his drink.

“Be quiet,” Izou said without missing a beat. “It’s warm enough that you don’t need gloves right now.”

“I know but they’re so soft and lovely,” you said, holding them up for him to see. “It’s not a problem, is it?”

“No, I just didn’t anticipate such enthusiasm for them.”

You smiled fondly. “They’re such a lovely gift. I appreciate them a lot.”

“They’re only gloves.”

You frowned, not having expected the sharp dismissal. You were far from the only person giving him strange looks; even Thatch had paused in his conversation with Jozu, his brows furrowed in Izou’s general direction.

“Only gloves?” he repeated.

Izou ignored him.

“But they’re so thoughtful and well-crafted,” you protested.

“You might be overstating their features. You praise them so much you would think I forged them from gold.”

“They’re the nicest thing I own.”

“I think that says a great deal more about the quality of your wardrobe then,” he said. “I should consider getting you some more articles then.”

You smiled, tension somewhat broken by his dry comment. You nudged him with your elbow gently. “Izou, they’re my favourite because you gave them to me. I would love them no matter what they were.”

Something softened briefly in Izou’s expression before he lowered his gaze toward his drink again. He hummed in acknowledgement but said nothing else about the subject.

Two days later, the gloves disappeared.

There was no way you could have lost them. You’d worn them for the first portion of the night before you went to bed. And whenever you did that, you’d always take them off and delicately put them into their box which sat atop your dresser.

But when you went to get them before breakfast, they were gone.

The box still sat where you had left it but when you pulled it open, the folded paper inside rustled empty beneath your hands. No leather. No gloves. A strange cold panic settled in your stomach almost instantly and within minutes you were dragging through your room hard enough to rattle furniture against the walls.

You went through every other person’s hammock or bunk in case it had been moved. You stuck your head into the dustiest parts of the room and got rewarded with nothing but several sneezing fits.

Your next stop was the crow’s nest where you almost gave Haruta, who was half-asleep on his watch, a heart attack. He insisted there were no gloves up there and you almost landed on Fossa when you clambered back down.

You moved across the deck with enough frantic speed that crew members had to step aside before you collided with them. Boots hammered against the wood as you cut between groups, your eyes catching desperately on every dark corner and unattended surface.

Vista caught you as you rushed out of the dining room, already planning on making your way toward the galley. You were never in there but maybe somebody else had seen it.

“Missing something?”

“My gloves,” you said. “You know, the leather ones that – ”

“I know your gloves,” he interrupted. “The ones that Izou had specifically made for you. The same pair he spent weeks planning for.”

“I mean, I don’t know about him spending weeks on them…”

“I do,” Vista reassured. “Thatch wouldn’t stop complaining about Izou hovering around the galley while organising it.”

That made it so much worse… You rubbed your arms and gave him a desperate expression. He shook his head with a slight chuckle.

“Alright, let’s see if we can find them then. I remember you wearing them last night.”

“I was,” you said with a nod. “I remember taking them to my room but I’ve looked there twice now and found nothing.”

On Vista’s instruction, more than half of the fifth division found time between their daily duties to search the entire ship for your gloves. You helped where you could, buzzing about between the group as they checked every barrel and table.

Enough people climbed into the crow’s nest that Haruta eventually leaned over the railing with murderous intent in his eyes.

“There are no gloves up here!” he shouted across the deck.

“Check again!” somebody yelled back immediately.

“I will start kicking people off this ship!”

You winced when he did so, looking around to see if Izou was anywhere to be seen.

You weren’t sure you were ready to tell him yet.

“I know you’ve lost your gloves,” Marco said when you made your way to the infirmary before you even started explaining yourself. “I don’t understand why half the ship needs to come to a halt because of it though.”

“It’s only the fifth division,” you defended.

Marco gave you a flat look. “It’s not only the fifth,” he muttered. “I’ve caught about a third of my division looking around the medical bays. Fossa just checked my office for gloves.”

“Maybe they ended up there.”

“Why would they end up there?”

“They’re really important to me, Marco. If I’ve lost them, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Have you checked the rooms?”

“Twice. Just not the commander’s quarters aside from Vista’s.”

“Why would they be there?”

“They wouldn’t but I’m leaving nowhere unchecked. Speaking of…”

Marco sighed and still allowed you to go through both his office and personal quarters despite you never having been in either before. You were also needing to avoid Izou as best you could, ducking away when you spotted him on the storage deck.

You convinced some of the other commanders to let you look through their quarters too but eventually ended up pacing empty-handed next to Vista.

“I have an idea,” he said. “But I don’t know if you actually lost them.”

“Do you think somebody could have stolen them?”

He tapped a rhythm against the hilt of a blade, his gaze scanning over the deck. “I don’t think anybody would steal them but if they were truly lost, my men should have found it by now. Did Izou simply give them to you because your hands were cold?”

“That’s what he said,” you acknowledged quietly. “Though I think he was getting tired of freezing every morning. I have watch again tonight and I’m not used to this weather anymore.”

Vista hummed, clearly thinking. “I think I know where they might be. I’ll check and keep you updated.”

Unfortunately, whatever his plan, it didn’t result in your gloves returning before evening came along. The only reprieve you got was that Izou didn’t arrive at dinner and that both reassured and panicked you in equal measure. The guilt you had about him knowing that you’d lost his precious gift weighed heavily on you.

And your night watch started out even more miserable.

Marco offered to switch your schedule for the evening but you rejected it, planning to spend your free time searching over the deck. Again.

Instead, you ended up leaning uselessly against the railing, accomplishing very little beyond staring out across the dark ocean. The wind curled relentlessly around your fingers and knuckles, cold enough now that every flex of your hands felt tight and uncomfortable without the gloves.

It was far from the coldest temperature you’d sat through but it felt all the worse.

And you were kind of missing Izou too. You weren’t used to avoiding him.

You didn’t know how long you stood, watching the ocean pass instead of actually doing what was required of you, but your mourning was interrupted by a smooth voice.

“Are you plotting the best way to get frostbite again?”

You startled; turning to find Izou standing far closer than he should have been able to get without you noticing. You must have been completely lost in your thoughts to not notice his approach – as quiet as he moved, it was still with a steady enough pace that you normally recognised his approach.

The wind shifted strands of dark hair loose across his face, silk catching briefly in the moonlight as he waited for your answer. The lantern glow from further down the deck softened the sharpness of his expression but did little to hide the quiet attention in his eyes. You smiled, a shaky and uncertain thing.

“It’s a nice evening for it,” you answered.

You wrung your hands together, joints slightly stiff from the cold. Izou’s gaze dropped to them for a second before he met your eyes.

“You look cold.”

“I am,” you admitted, slipping them behind your back on instinct. “But nothing too bad… I… I lost the gloves. I’m so sorry Izou. I searched everywhere for them and they’re nowhere. They must have gone overboard because I checked every corner of the ship.”

“I know,” he said. “I noticed how many on the ship were looking for them today.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologised again. “I tried my hardest to keep them safe.”

“Don’t apologise. There’s nothing to be so upset over. They’re only gloves.”

You brought your hands back around to breathe on them, pressing your palms together. “I know but I appreciated how warm they kept me. And they saved your arms too.”

Izou sighed, stepping closer smoothly. “I hardly complained about it though I fear on a night like this, my sleeves may not provide you with enough warmth at all.”

“It’s really okay,” you said with a small laugh. “I’m not losing fingers yet.”

His gaze lingered on your hands for a moment too long and then he held out his hand. “I’m not certain we should take that chance. After all, you clearly have poor circulation.”

You almost laughed but rested your palm carefully against his. His hand was far warmer than the night air, heat sinking quickly into your stiff fingers. Before you could pull away again, Izou stepped closer and guided your hand toward his waist, settling it lightly against the overlapping silk of his kimono.

Your heart stuttered almost to a stop, breath catching.

“Unless I’ve misunderstood your interest?”

His words were softer now, not quite unsure but still testing. As though he was waiting on you for an answer you’d yet to give.

“No,” you said, a little too fast and a little too honest. “I mean… that’s… thank you.”

You hesitated for a second before moving your hand properly. Your fingertips dragged lightly over the cool silk first, testing, before slipping beneath the edge of the fabric. The warmth of his skin startled you almost as much as the quiet breath Izou drew in. You immediately tried to move back but he caught your wrist before you could do so.

“Sorry,” you said. “I know it’s cold.”

“That’s why we’re doing this in the first place,” he said. “You already reach under my clothing all the time to touch my arms. I’m surprised this embarrasses you.”

A nervous chuckle slipped out before you could stop it. “This is very different to that.”

“Is it?”

You unfurled your fingers, pressing your hand gratefully against his warm side. You could feel his breathing beneath your palm, the steady rise and fall of his very well-muscled chest moving softly. Your heart stuttered dangerously hard in your chest but you managed to get yourself to breathe.

Izou leaned closer until his forehead rested lightly against yours. The gesture was so careful it made your chest ache. At some point, his free hand had found your other one too, fingers threading slowly through yours despite the cold still clinging to your skin.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The ship creaked softly around you and somewhere higher above, the sails shifted against the wind. Izou’s fingers remained loosely threaded with yours, steady and warm.

“I made a mistake,” he admitted. “Two, if only one that I truly regret.”

“What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t have given you those gloves,” he said. “I thought they would help you stay warm but failed to realise you would seek me out less in return.”

You smiled at that. “They were very nice gloves though. I liked them a lot.”

“I noticed that today. I’m considering returning them but I’ll only do so if you promise that you’ll continue to come to me when you’re cold.”

“Wait, you took them?”

“I thought that would be obvious.”

You huffed, unable to find space in your heart for any emotion other than relief. “Izou, that’s terrible. I was worried sick.”

“And I’m sorry for that but I don’t regret this outcome. Do you?” You laughed and tilted your chin a little closer to him. “Not at all.”

Tags: @miwn8 ; @aceincase

[arachnidseyes]

Doctor Damian coming home all stressed laying on readers chest? Her babying him but he pretends he hates it? Kisses?

Great day for the anon who asked for fluff because this is excessive.

You always thought is was funny how embarrassed he got when you baby talked the animals. It was like he was embarrassed for them.  

He'd chastise you when you'd do it to Titus at the dog park: "You're humiliating him in front of his peers." All while the dog's whole back half is swaying side to side with how hard his tail is wagging.

He'd stand with his arms crossed when you coo at Lucy: “She isn't an infant, Beloved."  While she squeaks and chirps in something akin to laughter.  

Worst of all was when you'd mumble sleepily to Alfred as he dozed off next to you. Damian found this so shameful that he'd huff and roll over so he wouldn't have to witness it.

Of course, you noticed the conflict on his face, the tell-tale dark red tips of his ears and the way he’d hide his face from you.  

But you didn’t really realise what it all meant until he came home late one night after finishing a grueling shift at the hospital.  

You heard the door click open and closed again, and waited for him to find you on the couch instead of greeting him at the door. He likes to completely shed the day off, shower and change before he can properly relax, especially after such a long shift. 

But this time, he came right into the living room to stand at the edge of the couch. He'd only slipped his shoes and coat off, tired eyes gazing down at you. You wordlessly rolled onto your back and patted your chest.  

He easily fell into your arms, body going limp on the couch he was just a little too big for, sock clad feet hanging off the armrest.  

You rubbed a hand down his back as he let out a long breath that feels like he’d been waiting a while to let go. It warmed you that he could find comfort in you, especially since you couldn’t always find the right words to say.   

Alfred trotted over, climbing up on the couch, and looking irritated that his owner had taken his favourite spot, he curled up in the crook of your neck instead. It was perfect; your two stoic boys trusting you to soothe them to sleep.  

You lifted a hand from where your boyfriend’s head laid on your chest to gently stroke the cat’s head.  

"Awww, sleepy baby~"  

Alfred's eyes fell closed, nudging slightly into the touch. You didn't register how Damian's arms tightened around you or how his face grew hotter against your skin, your fingers mindlessly combing through his hair 

"Is my pretty boy tired?"  

You take your eyes off Alfred when your boyfriend nods his head. Just a little, enough that you pause your movements, only starting again when he grumbles. 

You think you must’ve imagined it. He's just nuzzling into you for warmth and it looks like he's answering or maybe he’s so tired he doesn’t even realise what you're saying. You bring your nails up from his nape to behind his ear and back down, a weak spot of his.  

"Aw, sweet baby~ Are you gonna have a nap?"  

He nods again, undeniable this time and you crack a wide smile that you're sure he would just hate to see if he could take his face out of your chest. You turn your head to Alfred as if you could share this glorious moment with him. He remains uninterested.  

You keep your tone very soft, just like you'd talk to Alfred.

"You don't wanna change first? Shower and eat something?"  

He shakes his head, legs shifting to lock yours in place more firmly.  

"Stay." 

The word was just barely a whisper, muffled against your skin. You pat his back reassuringly.  

"Alright, big guy. My strong, handsome, heavy man."  

You feel him huff and shake his head just barely, like he doesn’t want to reward you with a reaction. You place a kiss on his head.  

"Precious, hard working, smart, sexy, pretty baby- ” 

His hand slides up from your side to cover your mouth and you laugh and pinch his hot ears in retaliation, making him swipe your hand away. You both softly laugh and settle down again, matching the other's slow breaths.

His hair tickles when you lay another kiss on his head, arms surrounding him.

"I love you very much."  

"I luv y'too, m'luv." 

His muffled words are barely audible against your skin and you rest your head back on the plush pillow under you, thinking of all the fun things you can do with this new discovery when he wakes up.  

I knocked something with my car for the first time today. Just a dink but still 😭😭😭

[crab-milk]

first day as a defense attorney! surely nothing bad will happen!

[deeryangel]

robert comfort drabble x villain!reader (f)

you lay your head atop of robert’s chest, tracing patterns on the side it doesn’t cover. small hums vibrate thought you, as the sunsets gleam melts on you.

his hand lay on your waist, the other underneath his head. he sucks a sharp breath in, looking down at you and kissing your forehead. you smile bashfully, looking up at him to peck him a couple times more.

“you think i’m doing good at this?” you whisper into the evening. robert’s chest vibrates as his low voice echoed throughout the mostly empty apartment.

“yeah, i do. haven’t killed anyone on purpose yet. why do you ask?”

your lips swirl in a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. robert stops your hand tracing patterns in it, and gently brings it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “talk to me, baby.”

“i just- now that i’m in this program, i feel terrible. i also feel like- though it’s minimal, i’m scared my progress will go to waste.”

robert tilts your head up to face him, and he cradles you lovingly. “you’re doing amazing. chase, blazer and i all talked about you being the one with the most growth out of the z-team so far. you have nothing to worry about. you’re trying.” he murmured. he grabbed at your hips, pulling you on top of him completely.

you giggle, and cross your arms on his chest. you rock at this nose, and he closes his eyes and giggle. “what about you?” you tease. “how do you feel about,, all of this? about how you’re taking everything?”

robert’s breath stuttered, opting to look away and sigh. he looked back at you, and in the moment, you could see how deep the red beneath his eyes was underneath the orangey light.

you rubbed at them, cradling his face as the scratch of his stubble comforted you. he sighed. “cmon, it’s no fair only i get to speak.”

“i’m just.. so tired. keep getting beat and all, i just- need a break.”

“how about a hug?” you whisper. you wrapped your arms around his neck. and while he stiffened, he adjusted in no time, melting into your touch. his wrapped swallowed your waist, pressing and smushing your chest against his as you felt the tension rift away from his body.

“you know, you’re cool as mechaman, but robert is much better. i think he deserves just as much love.” you whisper. “i also think he should take his time with things. ya’know, take it day by day and not as a whole.”

you only got silence in return, his lips smushing against the crook of your neck as he turns you so you both lay sideways. slowly, but surely, small sniffles were coaxed out of him, vibrations of his body shaking you as he squeezed you tighter.

you rubbed his back, the other hand scratching at his head. he shrunk and melted in your hold, letting go of all that’s been built up over 15 years.

you let him take it out, all over you. allowing the mess and burn of his world to seep into yours. the more he cried into you, the more he revealed the blend of colored ink that made him up.

you don’t know how long you were doing this, but you hadn’t minded at all. as the sobbing slowed, and his grip of you loosened some, you lightly pull back to see his face.

scruffied up hair with a puffy face, eyes, and swollen lips stare at you lovingly. red nose and eyes are deemed golden to you, as you start to kiss him from his forehead to the bottom of his chin.

swiping your hand against his forehead to pull back his hair, you kiss more at the splits and scars that were covered. his hands grip at your waist, face scrunching up weakly in protest. “you don’t- have to..”

“i already did.” you whisper. he chuckles, and nods as he continues to melt into your side. “i love you.”

“i love you too. please don’t ever go away.” he sighed, tiredly grumbling in you as he traced patterns into your back with his thumb.

“never.” you whisper back. you felt a small dip on the bed, panting and a little curl beside you made it obvious who it was.

you scratch at beef’s head before leaning back to robert, kissing his sleepy face. his breathing depend as he cooled out, a solace to the end of the day. “sleep well, okay? heavy work day tomorrow.”

“mm..” robert haphazardly grumbled back, cradling deeper into you. it made you giggle, and you melted yourself into him before you dozed off inside of his heart and in his head.

[flxffyclvuds]

Guys…. Why are all episodes so sad?????

I didn’t expect to cry at all in this series 😭

I thought that The amazing digital circus was more on the goofy side 💔

Episode 1? Less sad, but sad nonetheless

Episode 2? Tragic, gummigoo 🥺💔

Episode 3? KINGERRRR 😭😭😭 Zooble 🥺 (relatable)

I’m currently watching ep.4 and Gummigoo is back 😢 and doesn’t remember….

[flxffyclvuds]

*Sighhh* The things that I do for friends.. I truly hate color changing in crochet T^T

It's either have a lot of loose ends to weave in or carry on... I hate doing carry on cuz I get soo paranoid about it undoing and I also hate weaving in cuz it makes some parts so thick </3

[lushberrys]

Jason and his S/O who does not keep up with superhero and vigilante stuff. They barely know who Batman is but even then their knowledge begins and ends with "some guy in Gotham who fights crime" they've learned through osmosis

So when he confesses to them about being Red Hood they're like... "What, like the little red one? What are- WAIT! The little fat doll?! That's you?!" genuinely that's their only point of reference as to what Red Hood in this context means

🦇

no bc you simply Do Not keep up with most current events/news bc it deteriorates your mental health so when jason finds out you don't know too much about batman he's shook, understandably so

"what do you mean you just learned who batman is?" he's staring at you like you've grown a third eye

"....what?" you shrug like it's no big deal

"he's been around forever!" jason is about to pull his hair out. "how did you just now learn about him?"

"he saved me from being mugged the other night-"

"you were mugged and didn't tell me?!"

"and then robin told me to get my life together" you roll your eyes

jason has to step outside to smoke several cigarettes to calm himself down before coming back inside to talk to you rationally. he doesn't bring up vigilantes for a while after that bc if you don't know batman do you know him? and he can't handle that conversation right now, but he knows he can't avoid it forever

so when he comes home one night more beat up than usual and you're in his apartment when he doesn't expect you to be there... he finally has to confess. so he sits you down after getting cleaned up and soothing your worries

"i'm the red hood" he says with your hands in his, giving you a soft look. his anxiety, however, is making him feel like he's going to vibrate out of his skin

"red hood?" you repeat, confused. he figures it's bc you don't know who that is, who he is, and that makes a little part of his heart ache

"yeah, red hood..." he echos gruffly as he searches your face for any hint of how you're taking the news

"like... little red riding hood? wolf in the woods who eats her grandma?" you tilt your head to the side. jason's pretty sure he's on the verge of having an aneurysm

he laughs but you're already pulling out your phone to google him

"no, no, not like -"

"the little fat doll?!" you practically squeak

jason's eyebrows are instantly knitting together, "what?! no, i'm not a fat doll! what are you on about?"

so you show him fatson todd and he stares at you like the tired emoji and takes in a slow, deep breath

"how do you know about that but not any other vigilante running around in spandex fighting crime?" he's about to lose it. he wants to wrap you up and keep you hidden away and clueless forever

"you wear spandex?" you ask, fighting back a teasing smile

jason cracks, just a little and tries to snatch your phone from you

"alright that's enough, give me that-"

"no i need to buy fatson hood!" you try to keep your phone out of his reach when he scoffs

"it has its own name?!"

[flxffyclvuds]

Always gonna love fatson todd<333

[flxffyclvuds]

Item: The Wishlist Rarity: ⏶ Common

How many video games are in your backlog right now?

Feed your dashboard by answering my question, blogger.

Surprisingly only 5!!! :)

And how’d you find me 😰