Discover Top Posts Tagged with #one piece corazon

May 10

DRUNK IN LOVE

IN WHICH one piece characters make a drunken love confession to you.

CHARACTERS: Sabo, Corazon, Reiju, Shanks, Law, & Yamato.

TAGS: Gender-Neutral, some Suggestive, Fluff, Alcohol, Humor, oneshot.

SONG: Drunk in love - Beyoncé

A/N: i love hand and neck kisses sooo much please don’t kill me. Anyways there was many other characters I wanted to do but this simply got too long, ex: Koala, Ace, and Koby. UGHHh I might consider doing another part if I get motivation

SABO had found ways to avoid getting drunk, he could either just hold his liquor pretty well, or didn’t drink at all.

He would hold his cup against the rim and just swirl it around like that’ll get him going during any event. This specific day though, he considered pushing his limits.

And it was clear he managed to get the feeling he was looking for, by the time you found him again, his cravat was slightly loose, blond hair falling messy over his goggles, cheeks faintly warm from alcohol. He looked brighter somehow, excited to see you.

And pretty damn openly at that.

“You drank everything?” you asked cautiously, checking the cup in his hands. You leaned against bar table with him, taking a double look.

“You made it.” He smiled slowly, like that was enough to answer.

“Yea, but you hate sweet drinks.” You hummed shortly, placing it back down at the table. Honestly, he just wanted you to notice it. “What did you do to my friend Sabo?”

Friend.

He wasn’t really fond of the implication of what you guys had being just friends, hadn’t not been for the fact he faced the table for a second, you would’ve seen him frown.

He stepped closer instead of answering your question, close enough that the noise of the celebration dulled around the two of you.

“It was sweet,” he murmured honestly. “It was way too sweet for me.”

You knew that.

Before you could respond, he gently took both of your hands. His grip was warm and firm, thumbs brushing over your knuckles like he was teasing something delicate. He lifted one of your hands between his.

“You have very persuasive hands,” he said thoughtfully.

You laughed. “You’re so drunk.”

But that only made Sabo tempted to prove how serious he was. He looked up at you softly, tilting his head to the side like he didn’t know what he was going to do.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. It was quick, but not enough for him.

Your breath hitched, “Sabo—”

He kissed just beside it, lingering above your hands.

“You’re very unfair tonight,” he continued, pressing another slow kiss to your palm. “Standing there, smiling like that. And then you called me a friend.”

Undeniably, you liked it, but there was a fact that held you back. “You’re drunk.” You said again, telling yourself more than him.

He hummed against your fingers, clearly amused. “Yes.”

“Then you should stop.” You huffed, flexing your fingers in his hand.

“Why would I?” His fingers intertwined with yours now, and instead of letting go, he tugged you gently closer until your hands were pressed against his chest.

“You know what the problem is?” he asked softly.

You couldn’t even think straight, too fixated on what he was doing with your hands. “What?”

He leaned down again, brushing his lips over your knuckles once more before answering.

“I like you,” he said simply.

A kiss.

“Very much.”

Another kiss.

“Do you see me the same way?”

Suddenly he paused, he looked up at you through his lashes, eyes warm and bright and completely unguarded. “Do you?”

You stared at him, heart thundering. You tried to pull your hand back, but he held it gently, firm enough to make it clear he wasn’t done.

“Sabo.” You caught his attention, a slight softness in his eyes. You felt his hands slowly slipping, he was doubting himself until you grabbed them again. “I like you too.”

…

“Really?” He breathed, leaning in just enough so that you could feel his breath near your cheek. “That’s.. good. I don’t have very good self control around you.”

Your heart jumped.

His thumbs traced small circles over the back of your hands now, absentminded but intentional at the same time. “I try,” he continued lightly. “I really do.”

Another kiss, softer this time, almost thoughtful. The teasing edge faded into Sabo’s real feelings.

“I don’t think that’s just the alcohol,” he admitted.

You swallowed your nerves, you definitely didn’t drink enough for this. “You’re going to regret saying this in the morning.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, still holding your hands tightly, he had no intention of letting them go. “No,” he said softly, then with a faint crooked smile, “I might regret not saying it sooner.”

And just for emphasis, because he absolutely would do it, he lifted your hands again and kissed them both.

—

CORAZON, or Rosinate doesn’t even remember why he came out here anymore. The night air carried the sharp scent of salt and smoke. He looked wildly out of place out here, long legs folded awkwardly, back slouched against the wall, cigarette drooping between his fingers.

When you stepped out for a moment of air as well, you were baffled to see the sleeves of his Jacket catch flame almost immediately. “Rosinate,” your voice was a mixture of amusement and worry. “Your sleeve is burning.”

He blinked down at it with a delayed sort of confusion, as if the concept of burning was strange to him. “Shit—“ A lazy flap of his hand smothered the small flame, and he stared at the faint scorch mark with an exaggerated sigh.

“Did you get burned?” You asked slowly, taking a few steps closer.

“Ah,” he muttered, words soft and slightly tangled. “Nope, see?” He raised his charcoaled arm. “All good.”

It was not.

You sat beside him before he could protest, the concrete cool beneath you. Up close, he smelled faintly of alcohol and tobacco, and something cleaner underneath, like soap.

His posture was weirdly steady against the wall, but there was a looseness to him tonight, a delay in the way his eyes focused ..he was definitely drunk.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, slower this time, as if saying it enough would make it true.

Your scrunched nose and small noise said everything, that for one, you don’t believe him. “Let me see.”

When your fingers wrapped around his wrist, his entire body went numb before his mind could catch up.

It was hard to notice him stiffening, because his arm went limp in agreement. He watched in silence as you tugged down his sleeve, inspecting the faint pink mark on his skin. You rubbed your thumb gently over the spot, turning his arm this way and the other way like you expected something to appear if you looked hard enough.

He swallowed the nerves long ago.

He stared at your hands, at how small they looked against his own, how easily his fingers could curl over yours if he wanted. How easily he could just let himself lean closer.

He should’ve had some kind of composure about this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked stubbornly, finally glancing up at him through the curtain of blond hair. “You don’t usually drink.”

He nodded too fast. “Mhm. I’m Fine.” His voice cracked at the edges of the word.

He is a coward.

He gently pulled his hand back, setting his hand in his lap. You were still close enough that your shoulder brushed his white coat.

He was terrible at a lot of things, a lot of it coming from the clumsiness he can’t control. For example, wanting you. Which was true before and after he got himself drunk into someone with a bit more confidence.

Slowly, almost shyly, he let his head tip sideways until it rested against yours. It was careful, he expected you to move away even just a bit so that he’d stop. But you didn’t, something inside him softened so visibly it was almost embarrassing.

His cheek shifted against your hair, almost like nuzzling without realizing. He went still after, slowly aware of how close he was.

“I don’t like sayin’ things,” he murmured, voice thick. There was a faint drag to his words, it was the syllables blending together. “I’m usually better at keepin’ my mouth shut.”

“I don’t believe that.” You said instantly, but you didn’t realize that it’s because it was you that he talked.

“I didn’t finish yet.” He whined.

You chuckled. “Sorry sorry, go on.”

“..I notice stupid things,” he confessed, blinking slowly. “Like how your hands are always warm. How you scrunch your nose when you don’t believe me.” A faint, lopsided smile ghosted over his mouth. “How you always sit too close.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him properly. His lashes were low over his eyes, expression softened in a way he never allowed when he was sober.

“Are you making fun of me?” you asked, defensively before you could stop yourself.

His brows knit together immediately.

“No!” he said too quickly, the word wobbling with urgency. He lifted his head a fraction, nearly losing his balance before settling again. “No, I— I like it.”

You blinked, finally realizing where this was going. Like that could even be considered a surprise at all.

“I like that you worry,” he corrected, slower now, choosing his words with effort. “I like that you sit too close.” A faint, crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “I see it from when you get all giddy walking to your room.”

Heat crept up your neck. “I don’t—”

“You do,” he insisted gently, a bit shyly. “Your knee’s been touching mine since you sat down.”

You immediately shifted your leg away.

His hand followed without thinking, large fingers loosely catching yours before you could retreat completely. “Don’t,” he murmured, softer. “I wasn’t teasing.”

“Please hurry then..” You sighed, staring at your guys entangled hands. His thumb brushed your knuckles again, slower this time, he was memorizing the shape of them.

“I’ve wanted to say something for a while,” he admitted, gaze unfocused but earnest. “I really can’t help myself watching you every chance I get.”

You frowned slightly. “That sounds very unlike you.”

A breath of a laugh escaped him, warm against your hair. “Probably,” he agreed. “But I’m drunk, so I don’t care.”

There was the slight slur curling around the word drunk, struggling to keep himself away from saying it all out.

“I wait for you to say my name like that. Like you’re in love.” He swallowed, blinking slowly. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

You stared at him for a moment, at the soft flush climbing up his neck, at the way his lashes fluttered slightly as if he’d said too much.

Without thinking too hard about it, you reached up and grabbed his face gently between your hands. Blonde hair at the tip of your fingers, he was frozen.

You leaned forward and pressed a quick, light kiss to the tip of his nose, just to see his entire face go red in seconds.

His eyes widened first, then slowly blinked as if trying to process what had just happened. His mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, he was absolutely flustered. For the cherry on top “Rosinate.” You whispered.

“You.. you can’t do that,” he muttered weakly, though there was no real protest in it. His blush only deepened, creeping up to the tips of his ears. “You know how weak I am.”

Through the embarrassment, his hands tightened around yours, deepening his face into your palm. So needy, still drunk, and very, very obviously wanting more.

—

REIJU had always believed Sanji was a fool when it came to love. Too willing to kneel for someone who might never kneel back, it was desperate.

But if anyone in that family deserved to be foolish about love, it was him. He was the most human after all.

That was what she told herself as she slipped through the shadows of the Sweet City estate. This wasn’t about her, tonight was about Sanji. The wedding, his humiliation dressed as diplomacy, and for what?

She would not make this about herself.

And yet her knuckles rapped against your window.

Once.

Twice.

On the second knock, the latch gave out entirely and the pane tipped inward with a sharp crack, clattering to the floor. Reiju blinked at it, swaying only slightly.

“Oh,” she murmured, voice smooth despite the alcohol. “I overestimated the strength of it.”

You jolted upright in bed, heart nearly leaping out of your chest. It wasn’t every night the eldest Vinsmoke crawled through your window, sadly.

“Reiju?!” you breathed, scrambling over the sheets. You were more worried for her climbing through glass than anything else. “What are you doing here?”

She stepped inside gracefully, too gracefully for someone who had clearly been a little bit out of breath. Only when she took a third step did her balance falter. You rushed forward on reaction, catching her by the arms.

The scent of alcohol hit you immediately.

“Were you drinking?” you asked lightly, trying to tease, though you didn’t expect her entire body to nod with her. She wasn’t just drinking, she was drunk.

“Yes,” she answered honestly, pink lashes lowering just a fraction. “Quite a lot.” Her lipstick was slightly smudged. One heel strap had twisted loose.

You swallowed, forgetting entirely about the broken window. “You shouldn’t be wandering around alone like this.”

A faint smile curved her mouth. “You’re worried about me?” she asked, tilting her head.

It should have sounded teasing, that’s how she imagined it in her head. It didn’t though, Reiju sounded breathless just from the way you thought of her.

You tried to guide her toward the chair to help, but she moved on her own.

Her hand slid behind your shoulder and suddenly your balance was gone. You stumbled backward, landing with a startled thud against the floor, her weight pressing you down.

“Hey—” You yelped, you clasped your mouth right after, hoping you didn’t alarm Brûlée at all.

Your face burned instantly. She was straddling your hips, hair falling around you like silk curtains. Her gloves pressed to the floor beside your head.

For a second, you thought this was some cruel flirtation. It wasn’t until you saw her eyes glossy, tears forming at the edge of her eyes. Your confusion melted into something colder.

“Reiju..?” You murmured, hands slowly finding their way to her shoulder.

But when you touched them, they trembled once, then twice. She was crying.

This is why she hates being drunk, she can’t handle feeling so much and not being able to hide it.

“It isn’t fair,” she whispered. Her voice was no longer smooth. It was small, she already began pitying herself. “You barely looked at me today.”

You blinked, utterly confused. “What?”

“At the banquet.” Her fingers tightened in your shirt. “You congratulated them, you didn’t look at me.” The words tumbled out slurred but with a strong feeling.

“I stood right there.” A shaky breath escaped her. “And you looked through me.”

Your mind raced, trying to piece this together. This was Sanji’s wedding arrangement. You hadn’t thought.. you really believed it was in your head.

“You were busy,” you tried gently. “It was a lot happening—”

“I wanted you to look at me,” she cut in.

Her forehead dropped against your shoulder, hair brushing your jaw as she collapsed into you. The contact wasn’t seductive now, it was desperate.

“I hate that I want you,” she mumbled into the fabric of your clothes. “Because I can’t.”

You felt the faint smear of her lipstick against your collarbone when she moved, a careless mark she probably wouldn’t have allowed under normal circumstances.

Your hand instinctively slid into her hair, fingers through the soft pink strands “That’s not true.”

She shook her head against you.

“You looked at him like he deserved happiness,” she whispered. “And he does. He does. But I..” Her breath hitched.

“I want you to look at me like that.”

Reiju Vinsmoke did not beg. But right now, clinging to you on the floor of your room, lip stick on your neck, voice trembling with drunken honesty.

She was, and she doesn’t regret it.

—

SHANK’S couldn’t stay still.

One moment he was laughing with his crew, the next he was somewhere else. A hand on someone’s shoulder here, a flirty temptation offered there, a bottle somehow always in reach. If the night went his usual way, he’d vanish before dawn with someone’s attention still trailing behind him to a room.

And you knew that pattern too well, you got used to it above all. You didn’t expect him to really be interested in you besides the times he’d press his face into yours whenever he didn’t get his way.

Not tonight, not ever really.

He pulled out the stool beside you instead of drifting off toward another laughing crowd— or worse, another woman clinging to his arm, you didn’t even know what expression to make.

You just stared at him for a second too long, head tilting back. “Something on your mind, Captain?” you asked finally.

He sat down a little heavier than he should’ve. His elbow missed the table before finding it again, his coordination was fighting with him and he was losing.

You snorted at the sight, grabbing a shoulder so that he couldn’t tip any farther to the side. “You’re a bit too drunk.”

“Mhm,” he agreed, not even bothering to argue. His cup rested loosely in his hand, but he wasn’t drinking it. Just turning it slightly in slow circles trying to decide what to do with the moment.

You should’ve taken that as your cue to leave, and maybe you could’ve avoided this.

“I noticed somethin,” he said after a while, something he didn’t like if you had to guess from his expression.

He exhaled through his nose, almost amused, but there was something off under it. Something more serious pressing through the alcohol. You didn’t understand it. “You don’t like it when I flirt with you.”

“So?” you said carefully.

His fingers tapped once against the rim of his cup. “I just wanted to know why.”

You leaned in slightly, placing your cheek in your palm. “Does it matter?”

“It does to me.”

You scoffed, because that wasn’t the first time you’ve been forced to hear it. “Good to know. I’m sure all the other women in this bar would love that more than me.”

Instead of laughing it off, or maybe even grinning, he just stared at you a little longer. “That’s what you think?” he asked quietly.

You shrugged. “It’s not the first.”

That finally made his expression shift.

He leaned in slightly, then stopped himself halfway like he was realizing he didn’t need to be closer to be heard.

“But you aren’t them.” he said.

Your jaw tightened. “That’s right, I’m your crew member.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost tired now. Like the conversation had moved past anything he was interested in pretending about.

“You don’t get it,” he said, slower. “Do you?”

“You don’t get it Shanks, I’m not someone interested in a one night stand.” You finally admitted, but it was obvious enough. “Even if I was interested,” you were, “I’m not the type of person to fall for someone who can’t love me the same way.”

His smile came back, he too confident on convincing you otherwise. “I’m not trying to take you somewhere for just a night.”

“Then what do you want from me?” You murmured, more hurt at this point.

His hand rested on the table, closer to yours without quite touching. “I want you to give me a chance,” he said. “I can be only yours if you let me— hic.. please let me.”

You looked at him for a long moment, jaw tight, trying to find the catch, the angle. There wasn’t one, no matter how hard you wanted to be proven otherwise.

“..You’re serious,” you said finally, shaking your head. “But your minds are meaningless right now. By the next morning you won’t even remember this.”

That was a lie, he never forgets, even during his worst.

Shanks’s mouth tilted slightly, finally smiling again. “I want you by my side forever, and I’ll prove it to you.”

Before you could decline, he already moved first.

He shifted, sliding his arms around you as he tipped off the chair. He buried his face near your neck, seeking closeness. You felt small, quick kisses pressed there, absentminded, affectionate. Like he didn’t know what else to do with all the emotion suddenly spilling over.

“You smell good.”

Had it been anyone but him though, you would’ve slapped the shit out of him. “Shanks!” You bit out, a hand against his shoulders. “We’re still in a bar, it’s embarrassing..”

“So tell me to stop,” he said barely even moving from you. “I’ll stop everything.”

—

LAW doesn’t know when to stop pushing people’s limits tonight, or even drinking limits for that matter.

It’s been weeks since he left for Dressrosa without his crew, of course you’d want to check on him after he came back. He nearly died, and he wasn’t even the one to tell you guys that.

You exhaled sharply, pushing another leaf out of the way.

But the hard truth was you’ve only seen him once since he got back. One clipped briefing, then he’d disappeared again. You wanted to be mad, needed to be. What was his problem? Was it that hard to even acknowledge you guys better after a life or death situation?

Two minutes into the game of ‘did I see this tree already’ in Zou, something brushed your shoulder, and god your insides jumped. Your body reacted before your mind did, heart slamming so violently it almost hurt.

You spun around, seeing what you first expected. “Shit— Law.” You breathed, knees weak from the relief.

He stood there far too close, hands tucked into his coat pockets. There was a looseness to him, something he never had before. A sway so subtle in his legs you might’ve missed it if you didn’t know him so well.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked. His voice managed to mask it pretty well, but there was the faintest drag to it.

You stared at him for a little longer. His lashes fluttered slower than usual, his lip twitched as if trying to hold back a pout. He was trying his best to seem.. normal.

Oh.

“..Are you drunk?”

His brows knit together in immediate offense. “What? No.”

You mumbled a curse under your breath. “You absolutely are.”

He frowned at you, lips forming a slight pout that would’ve been intimidating if he weren’t swaying half an inch to the left. “I had one drink with the strawhats.”

“That’s what all drunk people say, you should know this Doctor.”

“It was for information.” He said, as stubborn as usual.

You stepped closer, catching the sleeve of his coat between your fingers as if it would make your point. The fabric was cool beneath your hand. “You smell like alcohol too.”

He leaned down without thinking, invading your space in a way that felt too deliberate to be a trip in his step from booze. His face hovered inches from yours, breath warm.

“You’re standing very close to me.” He whispered.

Your mind went silent for half a second, the moment almost taking you completely. “You’re the one that’s leaning,” you muttered in defense, but you weren’t as steady as you wanted to be.

Law finally noticed it too. He straightened immediately, too quickly— and nearly lost his balance. His hands shot out, gripping your shoulder to steady himself.

His fingers were warm, gently rubbing your arm out of instinct. You looked up at him, something uncomfortably honest flickering behind his eyes.

“You shouldn’t walk into the forest alone,” he said quietly. He sounded annoyed and worried, despite being the one who hasn’t said a word to you besides a nod.

Your throat tightened. “You ditched us.” The crew.

“I didn’t ditch you?” You. You?

You didn’t even have enough in you to question the implication he made by clarifying only you. “Fine then, you didn’t even say hi to me.”

His thumb flexed slightly against your shoulder, like he’d only just realized he was still touching you. But he didn’t pull away. “I really missed you.” he muttered.

…

Your anger immediately was replaced with something else, you didn’t know what yet.

He was honest, that’s what mattered.

He stepped forward before you could respond, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your back as he pulled you into his chest. The movement wasn’t forceful.. it was almost desperate. It felt reluctant, a bit awkward just for him.

Who knows why you let him.

He wanted to say something extremely close to I love you, but even he didn’t drink that much.

“You make it difficult,” he said instead. “So difficult.”

You frowned at that, pulling back enough to look at him like he was baffling. “Difficult?”

“I can’t even think without you being there.” He exhaled through his nose, frustrated with himself. You knew how much that meant coming from him, more or so admitting that.

You like drunk Law.

He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as a head ache throbbed behind his eyes before anything else could be said. “Agh.. this is why I shouldn’t drink.”

That was the closest he would ever come to saying it outright that he liked you more than as just a crew member. You didn’t need the exact words to felt it in the way your heart pounded.

You reached for his hand, guiding him back to everyone else before you pushed your luck for a scolding the next morning. “Come on.”

He didn’t argue with you.

—

YAMATO celebrated the capital party with everything in him. But still, it wasn’t enough without you.

The weight of surging the war was gone, but absence of it felt strange. Like your body didn’t quite know what to do without tension in your shoulders.

You barely heard Yamato approach, every instinct loose.

What you did feel was the sudden, solid warmth at your back, arms sliding around you without warning, strong enough to nearly knock you forward before catching you in the same motion.

“Found you,” Yamato said, voice low and slightly raw with drinks. You could feel the way he pouted his lips.

“You almost knocked me into the water.” you huffed, grabbing the railing as his weight only increased on you.

His eyebrow raised. “I wouldn’t let that happen.”

He didn’t loosen his hold. His arms stayed around you, heavy and warm, his forehead lowering until it hovered near your shoulder. For someone who had spent most of the evening being loud and Oden, this felt different.

“You disappeared,” he said after a moment, hands roaming beneath your shirt like he wasn’t close enough already. You winced at the cold touch against your skin, but just let him sulk. He’s sneaky..

If it was anyone else, you would’ve let him fall into the water with no remorse.

“I just needed some air.” You said simply, grip tightening against the railing while you tilted your head.

“You could’ve told me.” Yamato whined.

You glanced back slightly, teal hair brushing against your cheek. “You were busy being Wano’s hero.”

He made a faint noise at that, not quite a laugh. He mumbled some more words, but it wasn’t understandable.

Up close, you could see it clearly now, the flush wasn’t just from alcohol. His eyes were softer than usual. “I thought,” he began, then stopped, nibbling on his lip as he lifted his head.

You waited for him.

“I thought once the war was over,” he tried again, “you wouldn’t still be in Wano”

The wind shifted gently over the water below, something you didn’t notice with the fireworks.

“When Oden found the one piece,” he continued. “He wasn’t with the crew anymore, that was the end of their journey together.”

You first thought it was drunk rambling from someone who never had the chance to feel the sensation before this, but now it started sounding like something he’d believed for a long time.

You turned carefully in his arms until you were facing him. His hands tightened around your waist, “You think I’m just here for the war?” you asked.

He frowned slightly, he hadn’t meant to imply that. “No! I just figured Wano’s safe now. You don’t have a reason to stay.”

You studied him for a second. This wasn’t the bold declaration type of confession you thought he’d make. But he was Yamato, so it was even better. “What about his wife?” you said instead.

He blinked. “Wife?”

“Oden’s wife. What was she doing when he sailed, and even after.”

A small shift in his expression, the familiar spark there. “She sailed with him, for most of the time. And when he was done, they were home together, in Wano.” He murmured, such a nerd. “It’s not exactly like that but—“

“But, she didn’t leave him until forced, right?” You stepped a little back without thinking, your hands coming to rest lightly against his arms.

He froze, then slowly nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I’ll sail with you.” You hummed, already deciding it for him.

“Wait— You don’t have to!” He said automatically, a hint of fear in his tone. He was still holding you, head leaning down next to yours. Yamato whined silently, unbelievably cute.

“But I want to.”

That answer made him feel better than reassurance would have. His grip tightened slightly at your waist, needing something solid to hold onto while he processed that.

“You’d leave Wano with me?”

“I’d stay in Wano with you too.” you said quietly.

The wind tugged at his hair, silver strands brushing against your cheek. He searched your face like he was trying to find the part where you were joking.

His forehead lowered briefly until it rested against yours, breath warm and slow. “I didn’t want you leaving,” he said, almost like he was testing how it felt to admit it. “So I’m glad.”

Without really thinking, he lowered his face closer to the curve of your neck.

You felt the warmth of his breath first. Then the faint brush of his lips resting there for a second too long, he licked the spot gently, then sucked softly. You winced at first, clearly shocked he was capable of that.

He didn’t seem to fully register what that kind of gesture meant, but he liked seeing the way your skin went red.

Yamato suddenly felt the palm of your hand push his head back. “You can’t just do that and not warn me.” You scolded, face feeling hot.

“Sorry,” he muttered, though he didn’t look like he felt remorse at all, just grinning bigger.

You turned your head just enough to look at him from the corner of your eye. His expression was uncharacteristically unsure. “You’re clingy when you drink,” you said softly. “And very touchy.”

His ears flushed faintly again. “Am I?”

“Mhm.”

By the next morning though, he’d finally realize it wasn’t just sailing with him you’ve committed to.

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