Hi! I’m Nyx/Mike (he/she, 20) and I write fanfic. My fandom blog where I mass reblog various things is @nyxoneiros (please ignore that it’s also not set up nice and pretty yet, I’ll get to it, I swear). I cross post to my ao3, which is also under the name NyxOneiros. If you see my work literally anywhere else, please let me know, because that’s not me.
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When Did You Get Hot (Scogean x Reader) - Chapter 2: Lost And Found
Series Summary: After a few years of being away, you finally return to Xavier’s School and the X-Men. Some things have changed: the school is larger, you have to teach now, your old best friend hates you, and there’s a short man who you find very attractive whose classroom is down the hall from you. Some things stay the same: the professor still does weird mind reading shit, the layout of the mansion is still vaguely the same, your old classmates are still around, you maybe still think one of your old friends is really cute.
Chapter Summary: You get lost on your way to your classroom and you get to talk to someone you haven’t see in years.
(Series Contains: slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers, mutant reader, mild angst, insane levels of tension and pettiness, workplace(?) meet cutes, polycules forming and expanding, eventual quad polycule where everyone is involved with each other, gn reader)
(Chapter Contains: reader being insanely anxious and overthinking things for no reason)
Word Count: 2.8k
Read on Ao3 here
A/N: I would like to blame One Piece for why this took so long to write.
You got lost trying to find your classroom in the morning. It’s embarrassing to admit, since you used to live here, but it’s true. You decided to blame it on the hallway labeling system being different than when you were a kid. It makes you feel a little better about the fact that you’ve been wandering the halls for an hour now.
You’ve been upstairs. You’ve been downstairs. You’re certain you’ve seen every floor this building has to offer. You’ve been in the west wing. You’ve been in the east wing. You aren’t sure the building has any more wings than that, but if it did, you’ve been there too. You’re honestly considering checking outside at this point; maybe it’s out there for some reason.
Xavier told you the room number this morning when you came to pick up your class material. You know what it is, you know where it should be, but it just… isn’t there. Mentally you’re cursing the universe for making Xavier be busy in the morning, because if he wasn’t then he would have shown you how to get there.
It occurs to you, briefly, that you could just ask someone else for help. This school had plenty of people — the X-Men had tripled in numbers, at least, since you left the team. You know Remy, for one, wouldn’t mind helping you out. But there was no way you were backing down at this point. You are a grown adult, you can find a single classroom. Your pride would take a hit that you would never recover from if you had to ask for help finding something in what used to be your own damn home.
You were distracted as you rounded the nearby corner. You didn’t see the person on the other side. You collided into them before you even recognized that they were there. With an “oof” you fell, dropping your slim textbooks and folders onto the floor. When you looked up a little and finally processed what you did, you scrambled into action.
“Oh, shit, I’m sorry!” You blurted out, sorting through the scattered papers and books on the floor. Some of them are yours, some of them are about the brain. “I should have been paying attention!”
“No, don’t apologize.” A familiar, feminine voice said. “I should have been watching where I was going. Here, let me help.”
You expected to see someone’s hands reaching out to help you. Instead, the books and papers and folders were lifted up by an invisible force, almost like they were flying, or like they were being lifted by unseen hands.
You finally looked up to see who it was that you had bumped into. Her hair covered most of her face, but you weren’t certain that you needed to see it to know who she was. Not many people had hair that red, and the fact that she seemed to be around your age helped make who it was click in your brain.
“Jeanie?” The nickname slipped from your lips before you could even process that you were saying it.
This was one of the things you were concerned about when it came to you coming back. Jean. Jean, Jean, Jean. You didn’t have the same issues with her that you had with Scott, although they were mildly connected. It wasn’t like you two had a falling out or hated each other or anything. Quite the opposite, actually.
You liked her when you two were kids. You liked her liked her. You don’t think you’ve ever had a bigger crush on anyone in your life. She was pretty, and smart, and she had the cutest laugh ever. Of course you fell for her, and of course you fell hard.
The problem was that you weren’t the only one who liked her like that. Warren, obviously, had a thing for her too, but he wasn’t your biggest concern you had suitor-wise. His crush on her faded pretty quickly, which was great for you, because teenage you didn’t think you had a chance against a rich guy who could take her flying at a moment’s notice.
No, the real problem had been Scott. He tried to be subtle about it, especially since he thought he couldn’t act on it, but anyone who knew him well enough knew he was head over heels for her. And you? Back then, you knew him like the back of your hand. And what kind of best friend would you be if you went after her while knowing that he wanted to date her? A pretty shitty one, that’s what kind.
So you didn’t. You just shoved down your big, stupid, dumb crush, and you acted like it didn’t exist. But coming back here, you worried it would rear its ugly head again. Things were already awkward enough with you having been gone a decade. A repressed, reinvigorated crush would only make things worse.
Jean looked up after you said her name — or, rather, her nickname that you were sure only a handful of people were allowed to call her. She looked you over, before hesitantly saying your name as if she wasn’t sure if it was you or not. A few more moments of silence and staring passed before your identity was confirmed in her mind.
“Oh my god, it is you!” She smiled. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you! I heard you were going to be coming back, but I didn’t know it would be this soon!”
“Oh, yeah, I, uh, I got back to New York yesterday morning.” You cleared your throat and stood up, holding a hand out to her. “Here, let me help you up.”
“Thank you.” She took your hand and you helped her up.
Looking at her, you expected to have all of your old feelings come rushing back. You just knew that you were going to fall head over heels for her again. And that was going to cause problems — so many problems that you didn’t want and didn’t need. You could just feel it.
But as you watched her while helping her up off of the ground… you didn’t magically regain your crush on her. You didn’t feel some burst of love or attraction towards her. It wasn’t anything to do with her. She was gorgeous, and from what you could tell she still had a stellar personality. You just didn’t feel butterflies when you looked at her anymore.
After a moment of thinking, you came to the conclusion that you must have simply grown up. Maybe you were just too old to be getting stupid crushed like that. Or, maybe, it was because you hadn’t been back long enough. Your teenhood crush on Jean hadn’t started until you had known her for a while. You two hadn’t talked in years. You almost felt like you were strangers, but not quite. So maybe the crush process had started over or something.
“Here, these should all be yours.” Jean said, telekinetically dropping your pile of books into your arms. “You’re going to be teaching anatomy here?”
“Yeah. I figured it would be easy enough for me to teach.” You cleared your throat in an attempt to act casual.
You still felt awkward around her, but for different reasons than you expected, and in different ways than you expected. You had been so occupied with the thought of what to do if your crush came back that you never bothered to wonder about how to act if it didn’t.
But… maybe you could work with this. You were still painfully lost, and while it was still embarrassing to ask for help, Jean wasn’t the worst person to ask. She was part of your original class, and she wasn’t Scott. You wouldn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of having one of the newbies knowing you, one of the original X-Men, got lost, and you wouldn’t have to deal with Scott thinking you were less of a proper X-Man than he already thought you were. And maybe it was just you being bitter and petty, but you knew that that’s what he would think. You knew it.
“Hey, speaking of my anatomy class…” You shifted the books in your arms around, just to have something to do with your hands. “I’m a little lost. Would you mind helping me find my classroom?”
“Of course.” Jean agreed immediately. “What room is the professor having you set up in?”
“Room 5c. I swear I should have passed it by now, but I can’t seem to find it.”
“Room 5c?” Jean asked, furrowing her brows in confusion. “That’s an odd place for an anatomy class… then again, we are running out of rooms in the science hallway.”
Jean began walking down the hall. You followed her.
“So what hallway am I in then?”
“Hall C should be all of the art rooms. We also have a few miscellaneous classes in there since-“
“Since there’s nowhere else for them to go.” You finished.
“Exactly.”
The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a moment. You started the conversation back up when you hit the stairs.
“So what do you teach?”
“An introduction to psychology course.” She smiled. “And I also have an elective class for psychics and telekinetics on how powers like ours work.”
“Oh, so what I’m hearing is Xavier has both of us teaching classes relating to what our X-Gene does.”
That got a laugh out of Jean, and it made you smile. You liked making her laugh. That hadn’t changed a bit.
“Yes, I guess he does.”
“Do you like your classes?”
“I do. Psychology is a fascinating subject, and it feels nice getting to help kids with mutations like mine who are struggling with the same things I did at their age. Plus, all of the kids in my classes are great.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for with my classes, to be honest.” You admitted. “I’m not sure how to be a teacher yet, so I’m hoping my class is calm and well behaved and doesn’t make me tear my hair out.”
“You’ll do fine.” Jean tried to reassure you. “Even if your class is rowdy at first, you’ll do alright with them.”
“Don’t mention it.”
It was when the two of you started going up the stairs that you popped the question that had been eating away at you for a minute or two. You cleared your throat before asking it.
“So… you and Scott…?”
“Oh, the marriage is going well.” Jean misinterpreted your question. “Thank you for asking.”
You tried not to let the shock show on your face. Scott and Jean were married?! You didn’t expect them to even start dating, given how Scott was too busy being a brooding, moody chicken to ask her out, or accept it if she asked him out. Them being married was a different beast entirely. You thanked your lucky stars that your crush on Jean was gone. You were already enough of a mess as is, you could not be falling in love with a married woman.
She was assuming you knew they were married. You don’t know why. You were never invited or anything, and you hadn’t stayed connected enough to have heard about it through the grape vine. You decided to try and play it off like you did though. You didn’t know where your class was, you didn’t know how to teach, you had to act like you knew something today, and this is what you were pretending to know. Screw it. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?
“That’s good. Just thought I would check in on you two.” You played it cool. “How many years has it been now?”
“Five, if you can believe it.” Jean sighed happily. “It’s still a chance you didn’t have a chance to attend the wedding.”
“Yeah. It really is.” You replied, biting your tongue on what you actually wanted to say.
“What about you? Do you have anyone special in your life?”
“No, I’m still single.” You chuckled. “Life as a roving hero doesn’t really give you many opportunities to settle down.”
“Well, maybe now that you’re back here, you’ll get a chance to find someone.”
“Hmm… maybe.” You humored her, even though you didn’t really believe it. “But I kinda like being a lone wolf.”
“If you liked being a lone wolf that much, you wouldn’t have come back.” She leveled you with a look that said she knew what she was talking about here.
“…Touché.”
Jean stopped walking shortly after. It took you a second to realize that and stop too. You felt silly for having such a delay, even though you were sure Jean didn’t notice. She simply turned and smiled at you, motioning to the doorway she stopped by. The inside of the room looked dark and barren.
“This should be your room. I’d help you get set up, but I have to get to my own class before the period starts.”
“It’s fine. I don’t have much to set up anyways.” You waved her off, understanding. “I was just going to get things cleaned up today, really. I can’t really buy things to decorate with if I don’t know what I’m decorating, right?”
“Right.” She began to walk away. “Well, I’m sure I’ll see you around lunch time. The kitchen’s where it’s always been, in case you need help finding that too.”
“Thanks. And I’ll try not to get horribly lost this time.” You grinned at her lighthearted teasing. “Oh, and, uh, Jean?”
She hummed, turning back to look at you.
“I… I missed this.” You sheepishly admitted. “Missed getting to talk to you and the other. It’s good to be back.”
“…It’s good to have you back.” Her smile softened as she spoke. Then she turned back around and continued walking.
You waited until she had taken the turn at the end of the hall to sigh and duck into your room. You didn’t want her to see your expression drop like it had.
You walked over to your desk and practically slammed your books down onto its surface. They were married?! They got married, and you didn’t get invited or informed about it or anything?! You didn’t even get a letter or a phone call sent to your paren’s house, for fuck’s sake! If they couldn’t contact you about it, they could at least contact your parents so you would know!
You understood, rationally, that you had absolutely zero right to be upset about this. You walked out on them, not the other way around. They were under no obligation to tell you about this. They didn’t have to invite you if they didn’t want you at their wedding.
But, something deep in you whispered, they assumed you would know about it. They assumed you would be connected and in the know about it enough to know about the wedding and the marriage. That meant they were deliberate about not inviting you, but figured you would know anyway, like they were trying to do some asshole move with it.
You told yourself that that was ridiculous. You had a very, very bad habit of overthinking and assuming the worst. That’s all you were doing right now. It wasn’t like they hated your guts or anything. Jean even said it was a shame you couldn’t make it! She acted just as kindly to you as she always had! She didn’t have some secret grudge against you or anything!
…But maybe Scott did.
Well, whatever stuck was up his ass wasn’t exactly a secret one, but still. Maybe you sound obsessed with him at this point, but you wouldn’t put it past him. He could be why you weren’t invited or told. Maybe in his weird hatred for you, he thought this up as a way to stick it to you.
But at the same time, would Scott really hate you so much as to try and play some weird mind games with you? Would he really do something like this for no reason but making you feel bad? Sure, he was dry, and blunt, and he seemed like he currently had it out for you professionally, but he wasn’t the kind of guy to do something like that. He wasn’t that needlessly malicious and cruel.
But-
You’ve had enough with the “buts” today, you’ve decided. There’s no point in going back and forth and worrying about what was and what wasn’t intentional. They didn’t invite you to their wedding and they didn’t tell you that they got married. Okay, so what? It happened, it’s in the past, who cares? There wasn’t anything you could do about it, so you weren’t going to waste your energy on it. You were going to waste your energy on something much more important instead.
Like futilely trying to clear all of the dust and cobwebs out of this room before lunch time.
You pulled a rag out of the bag of cleaning supplies you brought with you, dragged the chair that was near what is going to be your desk into the corner in the room with the most cobweb infested ceiling, and got to work.
Summary: At some point, Zoro and Sanji went from being crewmates to being boyfriends. As is common for lovers, Zoro wants to be introduced to Sanji’s dad as Sanji’s boyfriend, and not just his friend. Sanji doesn’t think it’s a good idea, and he’s really embarrassed about why.
Or: Sanji can’t handle having two backseat drivers in the kitchen.
(Contains: bickering, crack treated seriously, misunderstandings, brief implication of homophobic parents but not really, it’s part of the misunderstanding, cuddling and stargazing)
Word Count: 2.9k
Read here on Ao3 here
A/N: Unfortunately, I have gotten into One Piece. Thankfully, I love it here in my little mind prison. I just now finished Skypeia in the anime and I just finished episode one of the live action, so I’m going to blame any inaccuracies on that. Dedicated to my friend who ships ZoSan, who doesn’t have tumblr so I can’t link him.
“You should introduce me to your dad.”
Zoro finally speaks the words that Sanji had been dreading hearing. They’re laying on the deck of the Going Merry, late at night, looking up at the stars. Date night isn’t an easy thing to arrange when you’re a pirate. There’s not many places you can go unless your ship is at port for once, and there’s not a lot of privacy you can get on a small ship like this. Laying on the deck together and stargazing when the rest of the crew was asleep was always a solid option though, but you did run the risk of falling asleep on deck and getting woken up by water spraying onto the ship and hitting you.
“You’ve already met Zeff.” Sanji lifts his head off of Zoro’s chest so he could look at him with what he hopes comes off as confusion and not as barely disguised pain.
“Okay. Yeah, I’ve met him.” Zoro rolls his eyes in endeared exasperation. “I mean you should introduce me to him as your boyfriend, not just as one of the guys you went out to sea with.”
There it was. That was the confirmation that this was exactly the conversation he didn’t want to be having. Sanji’s face wears an expression like he just bit into a lemon as he thinks about how to phrase this. This entire ordeal is embarrassing to him. He knows it’s stupid, but it’s not something he can help.
“I… can’t introduce you to him as my boyfriend.” Sanji finally says. “Like… I can’t do that literally ever.”
“Why not?” Zoro asks, narrowing his eyes in confusion as he lifts his head up off of the deck.
“I just… can’t.”
“Does Zeff not know you like guys?” Zoro presses, trying to figure out what the root of the problem was. “Do you think he would freak out if he found out?”
“No, that’s not the issue.” Sanji shuts down that line of reasoning immediately. “He’s known that for a few years now. I think the old man’s actually hoping I marry a man and not a woman so the chances of him having to deal with grandkids goes down. It’s not a guarantee, he knows that, but it’s still a lower chance than some of the other options.”
“Well, if that’s not why you can’t tell him, then is it something about me? Do you think he’ll… not approve of me and demand we break up or something like that?”
“No, the issue is…” Sanji cringes, well aware that he’s digging himself deeper into this hole with every word he says. “The issue is that he would like you too much.”
“…Do you think he would try and hit on me or something?” Zoro’s face scrunches up in disgust. “Because I don’t think he was the kind of man to try and get with his son’s partner, but-“
“That’s not it either, he wouldn’t like you like that.” Sanji runs a hand down his face in embarrassment. “He’d think you’re really great and he would want me to marry you. He wouldn’t want to be with you in any way. He’d like you in the way he’d like you as a future son-in-law.”
Zoro just stares at him, the bewilderedness and confusion on his face increases every second. The gears are turning in his head, but they aren’t doing anything up there.
“I fail to see how this is a problem.” He finally says after a moment. “Your dad likes your boyfriend and approves of him so much that he wants you to marry him. That’s objectively a good thing, Sanji.”
“It’s not. Not in this case it isn’t.”
“How is it not a good thing in this case?!”
“It’s just…” Sanji lets out a slow exhale before continuing. “Oh, this is so embarrassing. Do you remember that disagreement we had about two nights ago? The one around dinner time?”
“The disagreement we had around dinner a couple days ago?” Zoro repeats, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to remember. It was such a minuscule thing, it doesn’t surprise Sanji that Zoro forgot about it. “You mean the one we had when you were making that sauce that-“
Zoro stops in the middle of his sentence. The realization dawns on him, and his boyfriend watches it happen in real time. Zoro pushes himself up into a proper sitting position, rather than just having his head and shoulders lifted off of the desk. He looks down at Sanji with an expression that shows he thinks the blond is absolutely crazy.
“Are you seriously telling me that your dad can’t find out that me and him are in agreement that-“
————————————————————————————
Two nights ago, Sanji was making dinner for the crew. This wasn’t anything special by itself. Sanji made dinner — and every other meal — for the crew all the time, that was his job as the ship’s cook. What made tonight’s dinner a little special was that it was something new.
When they stopped at port last, they had the chance to try a new restaurant. Most people would expect a cook to be offended that his crew would rather stop at a restaurant than eat his cooking, but Sanji didn’t take it personally. It wasn’t an attack against his skills, his friends loved his cooking and he knew it. It was just nice to have something different every once in a while.
Truth be told, Sanji was actually excited to go to whatever restaurants they passed by on the Grand Line. New restaurants meant new food he’s never tried before, and that meant new recipes he could learn. Sometimes he had to figure out how to create them from scratch, but usually he could talk someone or another into writing it down for him.
That didn’t mean he always followed the instructions to the letter, though. In fact, he often didn’t. Like many chefs, he made little changes here and there, making the recipe his own. Sometimes he put different herbs in, and sometimes he changed what vegetables were in it entirely. Other times, he made adjustments for his crewmates sake, like doubling the protein for Zoro and Luffy, or taking mushrooms out of a recipe for Usopp, or figuring out how to swap the fruit in a dessert for tangerines for Nami on her birthday.
But, admittedly, sometimes he just did it for his own somewhat selfish reasons.
The restaurant the crew had stopped at served a wonderful pasta dish. It used penne as a base, and had a tomato and meat based sauce that had just a slight kick to it. Everyone else thought it was to die for, and Sanji thought it was good, that it was great, even… but it could be better. It’s just a small issue of the wrong amount of the wrong herbs. That’s the problem Sanji had with most dishes he altered. A lot of people thought any green herb that tasted good could go into any dish, and it would be fine. Sanji disagreed.
He was almost done with the sauce when he heard the door to the kitchen open. Sanji turned around with a sigh, ready to tell Luffy to stop being impatient and to go wait on deck. Instead, he was met with a very different sight than what he was expecting. A very different, and much more welcome, sight.
Zoro gently pushed the kitchen door closed with his foot, his hands busy finishing up toweling his hair off. He must have just gotten done with bathing after training. Sanji was a little disappointed that he had put his shirt back on already, but even with it on, his boyfriend was… wow.
“Whatever you’re cooking smells good.” Zoro stated, placing his towel around his shoulders. “It always does, but still.”
“Thank you.” Sanji scooped some of the almost done sauce up in a spoon and held it out for Zoro, his hand cupped under it so none happened to drip onto the floor. “Here, taste this for me.”
Sanji didn’t let anyone help him cook, usually. It wasn’t anything against his crew. There was nothing wrong with them, not really, and Sanji loved them more than anything. They just happened to be very chaotic and very messy. Was that something Sanji disliked about his crew? No. He wouldn’t change that about them for the world. But he also wouldn’t allow that in his kitchen.
The one thing he did allow was taste-testers. He trusted his crew enough with that job. Sometimes that honor fell on Nami, or Robin, or Luffy, but usually Zoro was the one who ended up doing it. Luffy wasn’t always very happy about that, because he always wanted to taste what was being cooked, but Sanji didn’t care. He was dating Zoro, and that meant Zoro got dibs on being his taste tester.
The green haired man didn’t even take the spoon from Sanji. He just leaned forward and sipped from it, letting his boyfriend hold it for him. Sanji didn’t mind. He actually liked it. It was this little oddly domestic thing they had stumbled into doing.
“Mmm… it’s good…” Zoro mused, licking a small bit of sauce off of his lips as he thought it over. “…but it’s missing something.”
Sanji cringed a little at that. It wasn’t because his cooking was being criticized. It was because he was trying to take something out of the sauce without it being too noticeable. For a moment, Sanji hoped that Zoro wouldn't recognize what was different about his version of the sauce.
“…I think this needs more oregano.”
Sami regretted teaching this man how to tell the difference between different common herbs and spices. Ever since Zoro discovered what oregano tasted like and knew how to name it, he’s been obsessed with the stuff. Any meal that had any amount of oregano in it didn’t have enough oregano in it for Zoro. Sanji hates it. He has to kiss this man, and it would be a delightful experience, except he has to grapple with the fact that, if Zoro had his way, kissing him would leave the taste of oregano in Sanji’s mouth just from how much of the herb Zoro would be eating.
“It does not need more oregano.” Sanji protested immediately, covering his sauce pan back up with its lid. “You are just crazy and think everything needs more oregano, when it doesn’t.”
“No,” Zoro doubled down, “I swear the version at the restaurant had more oregano in it.”
“I don’t think your sense of taste can be trusted about that.”
“Why? Because I’m not some fancy cook like you?” Zoro raised an eyebrow at Sanji’s excuse.
“No, because you were drunk. I’m surprised you can even remember how what you ate tasted. I’m surprised you can even remember what you ate.”
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“I watched you drink four beers, at minimum.”
“You say this like that’s enough for me to get drunk. I was barely even tipsy.”
The worst part is that Sanji couldn’t even argue with that. He knew his boyfriend’s alcohol tolerance was genuinely insane. He swore that if pirating and bounty hunting hadn’t worked out, Zoro would be out there making bank on drinking competitions.
“Okay, yes, the original recipe had more oregano in it.” Sanji sighed, finally giving up on bullshitting his boyfriend. “But it really didn’t need that much.”
“The amount of oregano was fine. They could’ve put some more in there, actually.”
“…You are out of your mind.” Sanji rubbed the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “You are just like Zeff, you are both insufferable when it comes to oregano.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that both of you like a genuinely deranged amount of oregano in everything you eat. Orange is disgusting, and I’m not going to pretend it’s not, and I’m not going to tolerate having two people now trying to convince me I’m wrong. It’s unrefined, it’s overused, and it’s only good in about half the quantities that most other chefs insist on using it in.”
“Have you ever considered that you’re the one who’s wrong?” Zoro shot back. “Maybe Zeff is onto something. He has been a cook longer than you have. Maybe he knows something that you don’t.”
“Oh don’t you even start!”
————————————————————————————
“Oregano.” Zoro says, like he has to take a moment to process just how stupid this was. “You won’t tell your dad that we’re dating because… we both think you’re absolutely insane for your hatred of oregano?”
“…yes.”
There’s a moment of pure silence. Zoro just stares at his boyfriend. Usually he would see Sanii under the moonlight and be struck by how beautiful he was. Right now, Zoro was just struck by how silly his boyfriend could be, to put it nicely.
“Sanji…” He starts, unsure as to how to even express what he was thinking.
“I will not be outnumbered in my own kitchen.” Sanji interjects before Zoro can say anything else.
“Outnumbered?!” Zoro repeats back to him, confusion and exasperation growing by the second.
“Yes! Outnumbered!” Sanji says like it’s supposed to be obvious and like this is supposed to be considered a reasonable reaction. “I am not going to have two people try to convince me that not using oregano is wrong! I am fine having one of you in my kitchen at a time, but I will not have the two of you teaming up against me!”
“Sanji, we are in a different sea entirely than the Baratie. How in the hell is he supposed to… ‘team up with me’ on getting you to stop avoiding oregano like the plague.” Zoro tries to reason with his boyfriend.
“…Well, I’d have to bring you back there to introduce you to him as my boyfriend, wouldn’t I?”
“You could also just tell him we’re dating over a den den mushi when we get to the next town, if us being in the same room as each other is apparently that much of a problem. How are me and him supposed to gang up on you then?”
“…what if we got a den den mushi on the Merry?” Sanji weakly tries to make an excuse. “Then you can call him at any time when you need backup.”
“Why would I ever do that?” Zoro deadpans. Then he sees the look on Sanji’s face and he sighs, softening his expression. “…if I promise not to get your father involved with the whole oregano thing, will you stop being dumb and tell him we’re dating?”
“You promise you won’t have him help you convince me to put more oregano in my dishes?”
“I promise. I’ll even back you up on your dumb herb choices, even if I disagree with them, if he starts on it when I’m around.”
“…Yeah. Okay. I’ll call him once we get to port. I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you.” Zoro sighs in relief.
He lays back down on the deck, getting cozy again. Or, at the very least, getting as cozy as one could reasonably get while laying on a ship deck. He gently pull: Sanji back down to lay against his chest. His boyfriend isn’t the biggest fan of laying on the deck like this, which is why Zoro was acting as a pillow for him. That, and because he likes cuddling with his boyfriend like this. They both won this way.
Zoro closes his eyes, relaxing and just enjoying the moment. He was supposed to be stargazing, but he felt so comfortable he could fall asleep just like this. Well, he could fall asleep anywhere, but laying on the deck like this was still nice. The argument had been put to rest, he had his boyfriend’s head pressed against his check, and all was right in the world again.
“Hey, that cluster of stars looks like a horse.” Sanji mumbles, tilting his head a little to get a better look at the sky.
Zoro cracks his eyes open again. It takes him a few moments to find the group of stars that Sanji is looking at. Part of why is because it doesn’t look like a horse at all. It looks like it maybe has four legs, or at the very least three of them, since one of its front legs looks too wiggly to be an actual leg. And its neck is way too short to be a horse’s neck, and its tail is way too stubby and not nearly thick enough to look like it’s made of hair.
“That doesn’t look like a horse at all.” Zoro disagrees, scrunching his nose up a little. “It looks like some kind of weird dog.”
“No, it doesn’t!” Sanji scoffs, pointing up at the sky. “Look at how long its legs are! Dogs don’t have legs that long, it’s got to be a horse. And don’t you see its tail?”
“Its tail? You mean its tail that’s shorter than its snout? Aren’t horse tails supposed to be really long?”
“Okay, first of all, horse tails can be short. Second of all, that tail isn’t short. Its tail is clearly going down to the middle of its legs!”
“The more you try to convince me that that bunch of stars looks like a horse, the more I begin to believe that Chopper needs to check your vision.”
Series Summary: The Captain is living their dream life. They have a good crew, they’re doing history making missions, and they think their lifelong best friend and crush might like them back.
But you can’t dream forever. It’s not real, and one of these days, you have to wake up.
Chapter Summary: The Captain checks in with their father. Later, they walk down memory lane while looking at some old photos. They find one that can’t exist.
(Series Contains: cosmic horror, character study, lore interpretation, slow burn, eventual Damien/Reader and Darkiplier/Reader, gn reader, fucking around with perspective in fun ways, canon death, canon resurrection?, memory replacement)
(Chapter Contains: memory alteration)
Word Count: 4.9k
Read here on Ao3 here
A/N: This took me way too long to finish but it’s finished and that’s what matters.
The Captain ran a tight ship where it mattered and was lax about the rules when it didn’t. Everyone knew that they would chew someone out over bringing liquid near the ship’s controls, and that they also didn’t care if that person spent a little too long in the rec room during their break.
The only person whose schedule and leisure time the Captain managed like a drill sergeant was their own. Their breaks were punctual, timed down to the very second, and that was when they even bothered to take breaks. They limited the time they spent in the rec room, which was good for them, honestly, since their crewmates had really gotten into playing poker recently, and the sight of playing cards made them… uneasy. Almost sick, even, for reasons they didn’t really understand. The Captain, above all else, never broke a rule if they could avoid it, even if they were more than alright with looking away when someone else broke a little one.
Until now, that is.
On The Invincible II, there was a sort of phone-hologram-thing. A holo-phone, for lack of a better word. Which they did, really, lack. No one bothered to give the thing a better name. You could call someone back on Earth with it, and their face would be projected as you talked to them. The official rules stated that, for the sake of fairness, cremates were allowed a singular hour long call back home every week. The Captain knew some of their subordinates snuck in an extra call here or there, but they never did so themself.
But curiosity was gnawing at them. They wanted to know how much of what they remembered was actually real. They needed to know exactly what it was they were remembering. They knew they didn’t grow up with a mom, but surely they couldn’t have just… made up whatever woman they so clearly remembered from their childhood.
They can only guess how they must look when their father picks up the call. They feel so nervous doing something like this. Breaking a rule like this felt like crossing a line that they couldn’t come back from. They didn’t know why they felt this way. It wasn’t like they were doing anything massively important by doing this.
“Are you okay, kiddo?” Stan asked almost immediately after he picked up, the worry clear in his voice and in his face.
“I’m okay.” The Captain reassured him. “Everything’s okay, dad.”
“…You don’t know much of a relief it is to hear that.” The concern began to melt off of Stan’s face. “You really scared me there. We already talked on Wednesday. I assumed you were calling because of an emergency. Anything could happen to you out there in space!”
If the Captain didn’t feel bad about doing this before, they certainly did now. It wasn’t their intent to worry their father this much, especially over something so trivial.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that, it’s just, uh…” The Captain clears their throat awkwardly. “You know how mom passed when I was really little? Did you ever… date someone long term when I was growing up?”
“Did I ever… date someone?”
“Yeah, like… did you ever have a girlfriend that was around a lot when I was a kid?”
The Captain had their answer when Stan’s face scrunched up with confusion. They hoped that they had just misjudged their father’s reaction. Maybe, they hoped, he was just trying to think long and hard about his love life, trying to remember every single detail and the specifics of the timeline so he could best answer the Captain’s question.
“No, I didn’t date anyone when you were younger. I don’t think I’ve even thought about going out on a date with anyone since your mom died.”
“And you didn’t have a female friend around either?”
“Not really, no. I think the only women that were around much were your aunts.”
It was the Captain’s turn to be bewildered. Stan didn’t remember her, but that wasn’t possible. This mystery woman had to exist. The Captain remembers her far too clearly, there was zero chance that she was just a figment of their imagination. They scrambled to try and jog their dad’s memory.
“She was around your age, kind of overbearing but in a way that showed she cared, she tried to talk you out of buying me my first bike… is any of that ringing any bells?”
“No. I have absolutely no idea who you’re talking about. No one ever tried to talk me out of buying you your first bike… are you feeling okay, sport? You’re not getting sick or anything, are you? You’re making sure that you’re drinking enough water?”
The concern there is enough to make the Captain pause. Maybe… they were wrong. Maybe their mind really was playing tricks on them. After all, two people had disputed their recollection of things. First, Mark told them that they were wrong about the bike incident. Now, their dad was telling them that their “mom” never existed. Maybe their memory of their childhood was fading. That was something that happened to people as they got older, right?
And Stan was right. They weren’t acting like themselves. They don’t understand why this situation got them in such a tizzy. They were so wound up by this, it was ridiculous. What they needed to do was calm down. They were beginning to act crazy over nothing. Forgetting that they ever “remembered” this woman existed might be for the best. Maybe it would be good for them to put all of this behind them. Them having a little mistake in their memory wasn’t a big deal, and they needed to remember that by forgetting it ever happened.
“No, I’m not getting sick, and I’ve made sure I’m drinking enough water. I guess I was just… imagining things, you know?” The Captain smiled, pushing the urge to argue that they were right down and ignoring it. “But I will make sure to fit another glass or two of water in everyday. Just in case. It couldn’t hurt anything.”
“That’s what I always told you. And I still hold to it! A little more water helps with everything!” Stan laughed. The Captain could see him look off to the side, his eyes widening after seeing whatever it was he was looking at. “Oh! Would you look at the time! I know you’re busy these days, so I won’t keep you!”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, kiddo.”
The Captain waited until Stan hung up to drop their smile. He was right. They were busy. They had spent what little time they could on this call. They had to get back to work. Something told them this was going to be a long, long day.
————————————————————————————
The Captain wished their father had never mentioned how busy they were today. They weren’t superstitious, they thought that the very concepts of things like fairies and bad luck and ghosts were ridiculous, but they did, begrudgingly, believe in jinxes. Saying that something wasn’t going to happen was a sure fire way to guarantee that it happened. Saying something bad was going to happen would just make something worse happen.
Case and point: the Captain’s day. First, something went wrong in ADS. Gunther tried to handle it by himself, but it turns out the automated turrets wanted him dead. All of them wanted him dead. So the Captain had to go help him out, which could have gone worse, but they still weren’t happy that their favorite hat got singed.
Then, their already late (due to the ADS fiasco) lunch got cut short. Someone had come running to them because Celci and Mark got into another argument. The Captain got down to Cryo, today’s argument arena of choice, to find that, lo and behold, it was over something stupid, like always. The two apologized, and Mark even offered to make them something for lunch, which was… admittedly, really sweet. Completely pointless, since their lunch break was almost over, but sweet nonetheless.
And finally there was them having to fill in down at the engines. One of the crewmates down there had gotten sick, and was now holed up in the infirmary. The Captain had stepped up to help, which not only pushed their schedule back even more, but it also hurt a fair bit. Not too badly — they weren’t injured or anything — but they were sore from all of the work they did.
By the time they were down with work for the day, the Captain was tired. Beyond tired, actually, they were exhausted all the way down to their bones.
They groaned in relief as the door to their quarters slid open. They stumbled inside, grateful for a moment to relax. The Captain’s quarters were important to them. It was the space that doubled as their office and as their room, although they rarely used it as the former. It was their sanctuary of sorts.
The walls were a pale grey, made of the same kind of metal as the rest of the ship. The floors and ceiling were the same, but that didn’t mean the room was drab or barren. They had a nice, soft rug that covered most of the floor. Shelves were built into the wall, and the Captain had filled them with all sorts of things from back home — knock knacks, phobias, childhood art projects, the works. The walls were covered in band posters and prints of space, even though the Captain could see it at any time through one of the windows on the ship. Their bedsheets were brightly colored, and a stuffed animal they won at the star fair years ago rested on top of their blankets. They weren’t ashamed of sleeping with it, especially since Mark slept with the one they won for him too.
The one thing that looked oddly out of place was the desk pushed up against one of the walls. It was old, and made out of a reddish-brown wood — its mahogany, or at least the Captain assumes it is. They didn’t know anything about wood, but it sounded right, for whatever reason. It felt right.
The desk was accompanied by a chair made of the same kind of wood. It was padded with red upholstery, and it had a slight swivel to it. It was just as old as the desk was. They must have been made at least a few decades ago. Maybe back when their father was a kid. Maybe before even that.
The Captain thinks the desk is why they think of their quarters as an office. Sure, they did their paperwork there, but they never had that much to do. And even then, they could always do it somewhere else, it was all electronic. They weren’t stuck doing it all in one spot, because they had no need for a desk or stationary.
It just had to do with vibes, they supposed. The desk just screamed that it was supposed to be in some fancy office somewhere. It was a statement piece. It made the room. By all means, it should have looked out of place on a space ship like this. For some reason, the Captain felt like it belonged up there with them.
The Captain sighed, peeling their jacket off and kicking their boots into the corner. Usually they would make the effort to put their things away where they went. Today, they only cared enough to drop their jacket onto the back of their chair. Usually, they would also change into pajamas before climbing into bed. They couldn’t muster up the effort tonight.
They were grateful to feel the sweet embrace of their mattress as they flopped down onto their bed. They were quick to get themselves comfortable, burying themselves under their blanket and nuzzling their face into their pillow. The Captain let out a relaxed sigh as they closed their eyes, letting sleep take them…
…
The Captain couldn’t sleep,
They sat back up with a groan, running a hand down their face. Of course. Of course, because why would they get anything good to happen today. They couldn’t get a good phone call with their dad, they couldn’t get a good day at work, and they couldn’t get a good night’s sleep.
The Captain stood up and started rummaging through the shelves by their bed. If they couldn’t sleep, they might as well take a still down memory lane. At the very least, taking a little walk might help clear their mind. Their shelf of framed photos was their target of choice. They stood up, looking at their collection. They were all perfect little snapshots into their life.
There was the picture of them and their father at their fourth grade science fair. Their dad had helped them make a model of the solar system. It was a pretty basic pick for a project, but theirs was a little fancy. It was a bit more detailed than your average kid’s model solar system, and it was good enough to win them a second place medal. They stood next to their little foam sun, their father crouched down beside them, their little smile wide.
There was the photograph of them from when they got home from their first space mission. It was from their small hometown’s local newspaper. They had cut it out and framed it. It wasn’t anything special, really. It was just a portrait of them, their hair messy from being trapped in their helmet for so long. But they still cherished it. It was a reminder of the first time they really got to see what was out here in the vastness of space.
There was their photo of them and Mark from their high school graduation.
…Something about this photo was wrong.
The Captain took it down from their shelf. They couldn’t determine what was so wrong about it. It was a nice, but overall mundane, photo. It was of them and Mark, much younger than they were now, standing side by side, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders. They were dressed in their caps and gowns, and the hands that weren’t resting on each other’s shoulders were holding their diplomas.
The Captain didn’t understand why the photo felt so off to them. It wasn’t swapped for an edited version as part of a prank or anything. They would’ve noticed if something about it was changed. They look at it too much to be fooled by something like that. It was like it was always off, but that was ridiculous. They’ve had this picture for years, and this was the first time it had ever felt like this.
But the wrongness was undeniable. Something was wrong here, to the degree that they could feel it in their bones. It even made their chest almost hurt from the intensity of it.
————————————————————————————
You watched as your friend walked around gathering branches and sticks. He didn’t go for the small ones, the little twigs that looked like they wouldn’t hold much weight. The two of you had been building forts together for a couple of years now, at least one every summer. He knew how to build them by now. You’d taught him everything you knew about building little bases in the woods. You were shocked that he didn’t know how when you first started playing with him in the woods. You didn’t fully grasp just how much his parents kept him and his sister inside before he met you.
But you couldn’t help him today. Not really. Sure, you were carrying around your own pile of branches, but you weren’t really doing anything productive. You were too lost in your own head. If you had any sense, you would have been helping him. You would have been savoring every single moment that you got to spend with him. You would have finished off the summer on a high note. If you were a little bit older, maybe you would have realized that you would regret not doing more with him as time went on. But you weren’t older. You weren’t even thirteen yet. You were just a kid who didn’t understand why this was happening.
A few weeks ago your parents broke the news to you. You were going to have to leave your home town. You’ve never moved away from here before. You’ve never even gone on a trip out of it for longer than a couple of days. And now, you have to leave everything you’ve ever known behind. Your school, your house, the woods you played in, your favorite theatre, all of your friends, everything. And it was all for a stupid job that one of your parents got. You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal. The jobs they had now were fine. To you, they had just decided to uproot your entire life just for something new and shiny.
You’ve already told all of your other friends. They were made well aware that, right before the upcoming school year, you were going to be moving. You promised to try and keep in touch with them as much as you could, but you weren’t sure how often that would be. You were going to miss them.
But you were going to miss him the most. He was your best friend. You weren’t ever going to find someone like him again, you were sure of it. And that was part of why you hadn’t told him yet. Maybe you didn’t want things to change. Maybe you just wanted to have just a few more days like everything was normal. Or maybe you just felt like if you ignored it, it would go away. Maybe if you didn’t tell him that this was happening, then it wouldn’t make it real. You don’t know for certain. All you know is that it’s harder to tell him than it was to tell everyone else.
He must have noticed that something was off about you. You didn’t notice that he noticed, however, not right away. You kept aimlessly picking up sticks, even ones that you should've known wouldn’t work for what you were building. You finally stopped when you saw the way he was looking at you. For a second you thought he was onto you, and that some other kid you knew had spilled beans to him before you had a chance to find the right words to do so yourself. It’s when his eyebrows furrow in confusion and concern that you realize that you’ve got to be displaying the way you felt openly on your face, with no explanation to him.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, placing the sticks he was holding down on the ground near the half constructed fort.
“Nothing’s wrong.” You replied, finally snapping out of your thoughts. You followed his lead, walking over to the fort and dropping your collection of sticks next to his. The difference between them was easily visible. Your pile was pathetic next to his, but then again, your mood had brought your work ethic down.
“Something’s wrong.” Your friend insisted. “I’ve known you for long enough to know when something’s wrong with you. Your face scrunches up in a specific way, and you act all funny.”
You weighed your options. One of them was you continuing to not tell him. You didn’t like that one very much. It wasn’t like you had a change of heart or anything, you didn’t want to tell him what was going on, it’s just that you knew your friend as well as he knew you. He may have been the shyer one out of the two of you, and the one who was more amicable and polite, but the moment he found out one of his friends was struggling with something, he was like a bloodhound. He wouldn’t stop until he figured out what it was and how he could help them with it.
Your other option was to just tell him. This was the option that was going to sting the most. It was also the option that you knew you had to do. You couldn’t keep the truth from him forever, he’s bound to find out somehow before you leave, and you’d rather have to bite the bullet and tell him than have someone else tell him. That would hurt him, and that wouldn’t make you a good friend, and you couldn’t stand the thought of being a bad friend to him during the last days you’ll ever get to see him. And even if you could manage to keep your move a secret until you’re gone, that would just hurt him more. There was no way around this. You just had to rip the bandaid off, even if you weren’t ready to do that yet.
“…I’m moving.” You finally said, unable to look him in the eyes.
“You are?” Something in his tone told you that he knew what you meant, but wasn’t ready to accept it either. “Are you moving to another street, or to the outside of town, or-“
“My family is moving to a different state.”
“Oh.”
He was quiet for a moment after that. He didn’t know exactly what else to say to that. What is one supposed to say to that? His world, in this moment, was ending just as yours was. You knew that. You knew that this was going to be what happened when you told him this.
That’s why you were surprised when he took your hand and pulled you along to work on your fort. He didn’t seem angry, or like he was going to burst into tears. He looked determined. You’ve seen this look on his face before. This is the way he looks when he’s made up his mind about something and decided to follow it through to the end. He was normally on the shyer side, and he would usually go along with what other people suggested, but not when he was like this. When he got like this, there was no talking him out of something.
“C’mon.” He said. “We’ve got a fort to build.”
“…what?” You asked him, confused. You understood the concept of what he was saying, but not the reasoning. He should be mad. He should be in woe. The two of you should be talking about what to do about this, or about how you would stay in contact with each other.
“We’ve got a fort to build.” He repeated, turning to look at you. “You said it yourself. You’re moving away. I don’t know when. I just know that I have to spend every second with you like it’s the last time I’m going to see you. I don’t want to lose what little time I have left with my best friend. So we should stop wasting time, and get to building that fort!”
You stared at him for a long while, stunned. You thought about what he said. He was right. You did have such little time together left. Maybe it was best to not talk about it. Maybe it was best to not sit and cry over it. Maybe, just maybe, it was better to just do something fun with the time you had. You nodded, picking up a few large, nearby sticks, deciding to go all in with your efforts now, just like you would have any normal day.
“Aye aye, Captain!”
It took the two of you until sundown to finish your fort. You knew the two of you should be heading home by now. Your mom would kill you if you stayed out past dark. His parents would kill him if he stayed out past dark. You couldn’t find it in you to care, though, and neither could he. You two didn’t want to go home right now. Every second you could spend together was precious. Tonight wasn’t the night before your move, but you didn’t have many nights left before it.
You laid next to him on the ground, looking up at the stars. You two didn’t give your fort a roof for a reason. The view tonight was beautiful. It always was, from this clearing at least. You were going to miss it. You were going to miss a lot about this town. What you were going to miss the most about this town shifted before speaking, finally breaking the silence.
“Can you make me a promise?”
You turned your head to look at him. You wanted to say that you could. You wanted to say that you would promise him anything. Logically, you knew that you couldn’t. With your move being so soon, there were just some things that, no matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn’t do.
“Of course I can.” You responded regardless.
“Do you promise you won’t forget me? Even if we lose touch?”
You weren’t expecting him to ask you that. You expected something lighter, like promising him that the two of you could go to the park tomorrow. Or maybe something that would be easy to lie about, something that wouldn’t hurt that much if you broke it, like promising that you would sneak out with him tomorrow night if your parents grounded you for this, no matter what it took.
Most of all, you didn’t expect it to be something that was so easy for you to promise him.
“I promise. I don’t think I ever could forget you, even if I tried really, really hard to.”
He stared at you for a moment. Then he held his hand up and extended his pinky out to you.
“Do you swear?”
You didn’t have to think about it for even a second before you took his pinky in yours.
“I swear.”
————————————————————————————
…None of this made sense.
None of this made any sense.
There’s a photo of them and Mark graduating together. There’s several photos of the two of them as children and young teens, running around together. Stan had a photo of the two from the year they went to prom together as friends hung up in the living room. Everyone who had a yearbook from their four years in high school had at least one photo of the two of them being in the same club, if not several photos of them. There was an insurmountable amount of evidence that the two had spent their entire adolescence together.
But the Captain’s memory was so clear. They didn’t just think it didn’t happen, they knew it didn’t happen. Their mind was full of conviction on the matter. Their memory had to be correct. If it and the evidence said different things, then the evidence had to be wrong. But the Captain knew that that made no logical sense. Evidence was evidence. Proof was proof. It couldn’t be wrong, not like how human minds can be wrong, but something in Captain was screaming at them that it had to.
They scrambled to try and find some kind of way that everything fit together. Surely there had to be some kind of explanation for this, right? Even if it wasn’t a perfect one, or even a very good one, there had to be some way that this worked.
…Maybe it had happened, and they were just remembering it wrong. Maybe it happened, but not with Mark. That could be it. They must’ve just had a friend that they were really close to back when they were a kid, and they must have just gotten them confused with Mark. That would make sense — if they had to promise that they wouldn’t forget them, then maybe they broke that promise. The part about them moving didn’t make any sense, since if they moved then Mark would’ve had to move to, but… maybe that was another thing their memory was getting confused on. It must’ve been the other kid that had to move, and they were just remembering it wrong.
The Captain knew that this idea didn’t make much sense. Hell, it didn’t make any sense, especially considering that they were saying that this imagined themselves moving somewhere else. But it made more sense than the alternative, and that was enough for the Captain at the moment. It made it easier for them to ignore the discrepancies when they had something convenient to blame it on. And if they couldn’t use their theory to explain those things away and ignore them, then they would use something else to do it. Of course, human memory rarely has issues this severe, and the Captain didn’t have a history of memory problems, but the circumstances made it make sense.
They were stressed. They were leading an entire crew of people to go colonize a planet. The fate of so many was resting on their shoulders. They didn’t sleep as well as they should have, and they worked themselves harder than what was recommended. That wasn’t even touching on the fiasco with the Warp Core, which honestly would have been enough to drive anyone mad. Not that the Captain thought they were mad — they weren’t, they knew they weren’t, they couldn’t be — but they did understand the toll that going through something like that could take on someone. Some short term issues like this were to be expected from someone in the situation.
The Captain still felt that pang in their chest.
They chalked it up to sadness from breaking a promise to someone whose name they couldn’t even remember. It was nothing more than that.
Hey everyone! So, not too long ago, I reached 100 followers on here! Yay! I decided that to celebrate, it’s time to make some little upgrades to this blog!
Let’s start with the small thing I did: I’ve started doing taglists! It’s not the fanciest set up, but it works! I thought it would be just a nice little thing to do for y’all, in case you wanted to be notified of me doing anything.
The first big thing I changed around here was that I finally made a masterlist! I should have done this ages ago, and setting it up took me a while, but it’s finally done! I tried to set it up in such a way that it is easy to navigate while still being easy enough for me to update in the future as needed. If it feels clunky at all to you guys, let me, and I’ll do my best to fix it up.
And the last thing I did was I set up information for requests! Again, it’s not anything special, but it is a working request page that is (hopefully) easy to navigate. If you guys have picked up anything from my posting schedule, your requests may take a while to complete, so don’t be discouraged or feel bad if they take a while! But also please don’t pressure me either <3.
Anyway, that’s all for today. Thank you for all of y’all’s support, and I hope y’all continue to enjoy what I write in the future!
This post doesn’t have anything special to it. I don’t have a google form set up or anything, but I figured this would be an easy way to get this organized.
Anyways! Just go ahead and comment what character or ship or series you want tagged in, and I will certainly do so!
I eventually plan to make a Google Form or something similar to make this a little more streamlined or easy to work with, but for now, just send in an ask.
Request Rules:
I ask that you be polite with your requests. A simple please and thank you go a long way.
I would like more than just a “character A x character B” or “something with character”. Give me a little something to work with, please. Doesn’t have to be too specific, just maybe something like “Character x character, fake dating” or “character on a library date”. Just a little something to get the wheels rolling, ya know?
If you want to request a character that I don’t list down below, that doesn’t mean I don’t write for them. I may have just forgotten them. However, there is always the chance that I don’t write for them. Be aware of that.
I reserve the right to deny any request for whatever reasons. I will always let you know if I deny a request, and I will be polite while doing so, unless you are actively rude to me.
Things I Will Write:
Character x Character
Character x Reader
Solo Character
Readers with in universe powers (mutant reader, Kryptonian Reader, Lantern Reader, etc.)
Poly Relationships
Fem Reader
Masc Reader
Gender Neutral Readers
AFAB Readers
AMAB Readers
Trans Readers/Other Queer Identifying Readers and characters (note: I am not sure how confident I am writing for transfem readers and characters but I will do my damndest)
Fluff
Smut
Occasionally Angst
Things I Will Not Write:
Underage characters or reader in any other way other than platonic or familial
Anything with scat or piss — ain’t got nothing against it if it’s y’all’s thing, it just ain’t mine
