Soft Launch // Smau

dating tim drake would include

• tim is really sweet. he’ll kiss you to welcome you home or say goodbye when he goes out on patrol and he’ll happily carry you to bed if you fall asleep on the sofa and makes sure to tell you that he loves you everyday.

• he hacks your computer sometimes (for good reasons though). like you’ll just turn on your computer/laptop and your background is changed to a picture of you and tim together. <33

• even though everyone knows that you’re dating he still gets quite flustered and is prone to blushing if you call him a pet name in front of others. (you’d definitely do this just to see him blush).

• tim has your coffee order memorized (no matter how complicated it is).

• tim is SUPER clingy when he’s sleepy, like he can be needy and just want to hug and kiss you all the time. they’re kinda sloppy because he’s tired but his lust for affection is still cute.

• he cuddles or hugs you any chance he gets to make up for the many hours he spends on his computer away from you.

• since he’s a detective, he notices every detail including anything off about yourself. if something is wrong he will notice immediately no matter how good you are at hiding it, afterward he’d do pretty much anything to make you feel better. (even leave his computer for a day or so).

• he notices everything about you. favorite flower, favorite color, he always seems to notice that you’re cold even before you do and wraps his jacket around you. that intense focus can be a lot, sometimes, a bit overwhelming even. but at the same time you’re touched that he just seems so interested in everything about you. he wants to learn every last detail about you and is willing to take the time to do so.

• tim works really hard and doesn’t keep regular sleep patterns as a result, which means it’s up to you to make sure he gets proper sleep most of the time. plus, you’re one of the few people he actually listens to since you’re basically his favourite person. <33

• you have to learn most of his sweet spots to use against him whenever you’re trying to drag him away from the computer for a break.

• he remembers important dates even if it’s last minute— he still remembers. anniversaries, birthdays, you name it and if it’s anything to do with you then he’ll remember it and usually buys the best gifts for you.

• he celebrates the most ridiculous anniversaries, and he always remembers them. like, “it’s been one year since the first time you held my hand” or “it’s been a month since we went to that fair and rode the ferris wheel”.

• he lets you play with his hair and it’s so entertaining, he doesn’t mind and finds it relaxing when you run your fingers through it, he always checks to see what he looks like after you’ve styled it whether it be a man bun, ponytail, or braids. you told him that he looked good in a loose ponytail once and you he didn’t take it out for whole day.

• the two of you get take out food at least once a week because tim cannot cook to save his life, he just gets too distracted and the food gets burnt. he will also take time just to eat with you and ask about your day rather than work or will watch tv with you.

• tim LOVES watching detective shows with you but but sometimes it can get annoying because will usually ruin the ending by telling you who the criminal is and the exact reasons for his motives so it’s difficult to ignore the fact he just destroyed the next 45 minutes for you.

• he’s a literal genius so if you need help with anything he is on it, he’s actually written your essays for you before but you know that you couldn’t pass them off as your own because it’s not your writing style and you redo them using his basic ideas. you’re very appreciative of his assistance but tell him he doesn’t need to do that for you. however, he shakes it off as if it was nothing.

• he loves you and your acceptance of his coffee loving and sleep-deprived ways. <33

i. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Mild sexual jokes, Making out, Blood, Explosions, Mentions of Child Abuse, Good Aunt-Mom Selina Kyle AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

 NEXT ->

༻⊰───⋅

“Uh, good morning?” you offered weakly, trying to give a casual shrug despite the mess around you. “Mom, this might sound insane. But, I think I might have accidentally discovered superpowers.”

Selina stared at you, blinking slowly as she processed the scene before her. Her lips twitched as if she were trying to hold back a laugh or perhaps some form of disbelief.

“Accidentally discovered superpowers?” she echoed. “I think you've been around your boyfriend and his family too much. Baby—”

Before she could finish, your hand instinctively reached out. With a flick of your wrist, a web shot from your fingers and latched onto the door behind her. In a heartbeat, the door was yanked from its hinges, splintering as it flew across the room and crashed into the wall with a resounding thud.

Selina’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to face the now doorless doorway. She blinked at the empty space where the door had once been.

“Well,” she said, “I guess that’s one way to explain things.”

༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 9:02 PM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City.

SELINA'S DEFT FINGERS SLID over the fabric of the dress, adjusting and smoothing it until it drapes perfectly over your figure. The elegant emerald gown shimmered softly under the dim apartment lights, the material flowing luxuriously against your skin.

"You didn’t steal this, did you?" you murmur, adjusting the necklace that rests delicately around your neck. "I’d rather not end up in jail tonight."

"The dress? No, it’s one of my old ones," Selina scoffed, turning away and handing you a pair of black heels. "But if anyone asks about the necklace, just say it’s a family heirloom. Which, technically, it is."

You shot her a pointed look. She rolled her eyes with a smirk.

"Oh, hush. I haven’t stolen anything in... at least a month," she drawled.

"A month, wow! That’s a new record," you teased, slipping into the heels.

Selina laughed and shook her head. "Don’t get too comfortable. Just because I’m on a hiatus doesn’t mean I’ve gone straight."

"Well, let’s hope your hiatus lasts at least through tonight," you winced.

She smirked, giving you a once-over. "Trust me, darling, tonight is all about you."

You were about to respond when Selina suddenly snapped her fingers.

“Before I forget...” she said, reaching into one of her drawers. She pulled out a thigh strap and wrapped the leather around your leg, fastening it securely. 

Then, she slid one of her blades into the strap. You rolled your eyes but accepted the gesture with a resigned nod. It was Gotham, after all—being prepared was always a need.

“Damian’s got me covered tonight,” you say, trying to reassure her. “You don’t have to worry so much.”

Selina paused, her hands still on the thigh strap, and gave you a skeptical look. “Sweetheart, I worry about you all the time. It’s not that I don’t trust Damian—he’s solid. But Gotham? That’s a different story. Where those Bats go, trouble’s sure to follow.”

You chuckled, adjusting the strap to make sure it was secure. “We’ll manage, mom.”

Selina Kyle might not have been your biological mother, but she became your mother the moment you were placed in her arms years ago. In that instant, the blood that bound you was inconsequential compared to the unspoken promise she made to protect you.

To Selina, you were her child. Not because of any legal ties or shared genetics, but because she chose to be your mother every single day.

And to you, Selina was more than just an aunt. She was the lifeline who stepped in when everything else had crumbled around you.

Selina and Maggie, your biological mother, had both grown up in a fractured family. Their father was a vicious drunkard. Their mother, Maria, was a ghost in their lives—emotionally absent and detached. 

When Maria died, the world turned colder. The sisters were torn apart: Maggie was adopted by a warm, loving family, while Selina was abandoned to the unforgiving grip of Gotham’s orphanages. Those grim streets, steeped in shadows and danger, carved her into Catwoman.

But darkness has a way of creeping back into the light, no matter how hard you try to keep it at bay. Maggie, who had managed to build a life of stability and warmth, became a target for the shadows of Catwoman’s past. 

Black Mask.

Kidnapped, tortured, and left to die, Maggie was nothing but a ghost by the time the attack was done. Her husband was slain in the carnage, and the only remnant of their family was you— barely a toddler, too young to grasp the gravity of your loss but old enough to feel its weight.

With no other family to turn to, she took you in, binding her fate to yours and vowing to protect you from a world that had already taken so much from both of you.

Her life wasn’t easy. She was young, barely in her twenties, struggling to make ends meet in one of Gotham’s most unforgiving neighborhoods. The meager jobs she managed to scrape together were barely enough to cover the rent, let alone the needs of a growing child.

Selina's decision to take up the mantle of Catwoman was never about the thrill of the heist or the allure of jewels; it was about survival—yours and hers. Gotham demanded a price, and she chose to pay it herself, risking her life each time she donned the suit to give you a chance at something better.

You grew up with a keen sense of the world, your intelligence uncovering bits and pieces of her double life. The mysterious disappearances, the luxurious items that mysteriously appeared—each clue painted a picture that you slowly began to understand.

When the time came for the truth to be revealed, it wasn’t easy

Selina’s hand glided across her vanity, fingers brushing over the cool surface before settling on a sleek black clutch. With a flick of her wrist, she turned and handed it to you.

You accepted it with a gleam in your eye, stepping back as you held it close. A playful twirl sent the emerald fabric of your gown swirling around you, catching the light in a way that made it shimmer. 

“Well? What do you think?”

Selina’s stern look melted away like ice under a warming sun. Her gaze swept over your outfit, absorbing the delicate neckline, the tailored fit around your waist, and the gown’s fluid cascade to the floor. 

In this small, quiet moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. For just a heartbeat, she allowed herself to pretend that the two of you were simply a normal mother and daughter, sharing a simple, beautiful moment together.

“You’ve always had a way of making everything around you look better,” she purred. “You’re going to knock the whole school off their feet. Damian’s going to need a crowbar to keep the other guys away.”

Selina reached out to adjust the straps on your dress, her touch precise and caring. Her fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, the movement as gentle as a whisper.

“Just remember, darling,” she spoke slowly, “it never hurts to stay safe.”

Ruby-red manicured nails tapped your cheek as she straightened up, a knowing look in her eyes.

Pause. Your eyes widened as you caught the hint of her meaning. “You’re not saying I—”

“I was at that age,” she interrupted with a mock-serious tone. “I’m just saying you should be prepared. Especially with the way that boy looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Make sure he wraps something else too.”

A flush of embarrassment rose to your cheeks. You sputtered and fumbled with the clutch in your hand. “Mom! What the hell?! I think that’s enough advice for one night!”

BEEP!

Just as Selina was about to respond, a car horn blared from outside, slicing through the evening’s quiet. Both of you turned towards the window, where a Porsche 911 emerged from the darkness. It looked painfully out of place against the backdrop of your neighborhood—cracked sidewalks strewn with trash, graffiti-streaked walls, and the occasional flickering streetlamp battling the encroaching shadows.

“Looks like your chariot awaits,” Selina said, her hands sliding up your shoulders as she gently nudged you toward the door. “Have a great time, but keep your wits about you. Gotham’s never as calm as it seems.”

With one final hug, you stepped out of the apartment and descended the narrow, dimly lit staircase. As you reached the bottom, you emerged into the cool night air, where Damian stood by his car parked right under a street lamp.

He was impeccably dressed in a deep black suit that seemed to swallow the surrounding light, giving him an almost smoky allure. An emerald button-up shirt peeked from beneath the jacket, its rich hue a perfect match for the striking color of your dress. 

Damian’s smoldering gaze warmed as he saw you approaching, a small, approving smile curling at the corners of his lips. He lifted two fingers in a beckoning motion, and though you rolled your eyes, you stepped forward.

“Beloved,” he greeted, extending a hand to you. “You look stunning.”

“Hi, handsome,” you grinned, taking his hand and stepping closer to press a gentle kiss against his lips. Damian responded with a soft hum, his arm slipping around your shoulders as he tilted his head slightly. The kiss deepened just enough to make the moment linger, leaving a warmth that held between you. 

Just as you were about to lose yourself completely, Selina’s voice sliced through the night air. 

“You’re going to be late!”

Damian pulled away from you so abruptly that it looked as if he’d been yanked back by an invisible force. His face flushed a patchy red, a blend of embarrassment and irritation. He shot a sidelong glance at Selina, his eyes quickly shifting back to you.

Damian huffs, releasing a sharp exhale through his teeth. “Shall we go?”

The click of the car door echoed as Damian opened it for you, his lips twisting into a scowl. You settled into the plush passenger seat, the soft fabric of your gown rustling as Damian carefully lifted it to prevent any creases. 

While you adjusted yourself in the seat, you glanced back and waved at Selina, her silhouette framed against the windows. A snort escaped you as you noticed the deadpan look Damian shot in her direction.

Damian was always somewhat awkward around Selina. As Robin, his view of Catwoman was clear-cut—she was a criminal to be dealt with. And yet, he still held a deep respect for her as your mother.

Once he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the car roared to life with a smooth, powerful purr. The sleek vehicle glided down the streets with impressive speed, Damian navigating through traffic with a confidence that bordered on recklessness. 

As he shifted gears, the radio flicked on, filling the car with a soft, pulsing beat.

This may be the night that my dreams might let me know All the stars are closer All the stars are closer All the stars are closer This may be the night that my dreams might let me know

Tilting your head back into the seat, your hair bunching around your shoulders, your thoughts drifted to the first time Damian took you for a drive. Both of you had been sixteen then, and his aggressive maneuvering had left you gripping the seat, your heart racing as if you were in a high-speed chase. Now, though, the thrill was familiar, adrenaline thrumming steadily in your blood.

The ride was brief but exhilarating, and soon the car pulled into the school’s parking lot. Sleek cars and limousines lined the lot, each more extravagant than the last. Students and their dates, dressed in their finest formal wear, mingled and laughed, making their way toward the entrance.

Stepping out of the car, the crisp night air greeted you like a refreshing embrace, carrying the delicate scent of fresh flowers and the faint strains of classical music wafting from the entrance. The soft glow of string lights and lanterns illuminated the path ahead, casting a warm, golden hue over the scene. Damian drew you close, his arm slipping around your waist as you walked together.

The ballroom was stunningly elegant. 

Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their shimmering prisms scattering colorful reflections across the polished marble floor. Tables draped in white linens, adorned with fresh roses and flickering candles, lined the room. The dance floor gleamed under the ambient light, already alive with couples swaying gracefully to the gentle strains of Franz Liszt. 

The whole scene practically screamed old money.

You were going to die.

You’d never quite get used to events like these. Over the years, you’d been to your fair share of galas and charity balls, mostly because of your relationship with Damian and that brief, awkward phase when Selina was involved with Bruce.  

Each time, you had a knack for stumbling through social minefields, unintentionally insulting high-profile guests or spilling wine on someone’s multimillion-dollar gown And, without fail, the next day’s press would seize the opportunity to spotlight you and your social faux pas.

Gotham Academy, with its glossy veneer and elite crowd, was just another arena 

It was a breeding ground for rich fucks, each one more insufferable than the last. The halls echoed with the chatter of kids who had everything handed to them, their lives a far cry from yours. The only reason you’d managed to slip through those gilded gates was thanks to the Martha-Wayne scholarship. Without it, you’d still be stuck in the middle of nowhere with your mother, scraping by on whatever scraps you could find.

“Ya amar, are you going to keep staring at the floor? Or may I have the honor of requesting a dance?”

Damian’s voice cut through your self-deprecating spiral as he snapped his fingers in front of your eyes.

Blinking up at him, you pursed your lips. “I don’t know... this is a really interesting floor.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, really? Pray tell, what makes it so interesting that you’d rather stand here instead of dancing with me?”

“I don’t know. I could stare at it all night,” you hummed, crossing your arms. “Plus, we’ve got to keep our thing going, you know? I can't give in that easily.”

“Our thing? What thing?” Damian blinked.

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but still want each other carnally,” you said, throwing your head back as you laughed.

"Tt," Damian deadpanned, reaching out to grab you by the waist. He lifted you off the ground, your feet barely brushing the polished marble beneath. You wrapped an arm around his neck and giggled, holding on as he carried you toward the center of the ballroom.

“You never miss an opportunity to mortify me, do you?” Damian scolded, gently setting you back down on the floor. Both of you assumed a waltz stance, your hands finding their places on each other’s shoulders and waist.

“I think I just enjoy keeping you on your toes,” you replied with a grin, swaying gracefully with him as the music enveloped you.

Damian's lips curved into a wry smile, despite his grumbling. "You know how much I despise these games you play, Cat."

“Oh? Cat?” you laughed, the rich, velvety fabric of your dress brushing against Damian’s sleek suit as you danced. “Are we going for the classic Batman and Catwoman trope here? Because once Selina retires, I could always take up the mantle of the next Catwoman.”

Damian’s smile dropped, replaced by a look of exasperation. “Please do not. I fear what will become of you then."

“Why not?” you asked, batting your lashes coyly. “Does the idea of me as Catwoman not thrill you?”

Damian made a noncommittal sound, his ears tinged with red as he averted his gaze.

“Don’t get shy on me,” you said with a grin, your voice dropping to a teasing purr. Your hand glided up his jaw, your touch lingering just enough to be felt.

A shadow of something intense flickered in the depths of his jade-green eyes. Damian’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his gaze narrowing into a mock glare that barely concealed the warmth beneath.

“I guess I would not... be entirely opposed to that idea,” he muttered.

He led you into a slow dance, his movements fluid and graceful, reminiscent of those quiet, moonlit nights in his manor’s kitchen. You recalled late evenings when the room was bathed in the soft, silvery glow of moonlight streaming through the windows. On those nights, the world outside felt far away, leaving just the two of you swaying gently to the soft strains of music playing from his phone’s speakers.

It was moments like these that peeled away his walls. In the soft glow of the ballroom lights, the tender, affectionate side of him emerged—like a rare flower blooming in the quiet of twilight. Each layer revealed a deeper, more intimate part of him, offering you a special kind of attention that made every shared glance and touch feel intimate.

“This crazy, almost maddening attraction I have for you makes me feel like I want to stab myself,” Damian murmured as he spun you around, the fabric of your dress flared out like a blooming flower at his feet.

“Wow, you really have a way with words,” you said with a smile. “Admit it—you love every second of it, don’t you?”

Damian’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Perhaps,” he conceded. He drew you back into his embrace as he guided you across the dance floor, your bodies moved in perfect harmony, like two pieces fitting together in a delicate puzzle.

The world around you seemed to blur into a gentle haze of soft music and swirling lights. Damian’s gaze, however, remained sharp and vigilant.

“I don’t like how they’re staring at you,” he murmured, his green eyes narrowing as they scanned the crowd. His voice carried the familiar edge of possessiveness. “Perhaps they need a reminder of whom you belong to.”

“Damian, no—”

Before you could protest, Damian leaned in, closing the distance between you with a smooth turn of his head. The kiss was tender yet heated, his teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip.

Anyone who glanced your way would see Damian Thomas Wayne with his lips pressed against yours, making it clear who he was with. It wasn’t the first time he’d been so overt—there was that incident when you both ended up in detention because he couldn’t keep his hands off you by your locker.

You whined softly, trying to pull away, a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips in a delicate, glistening thread. “We’re in public—”

“Shut up,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough yet tender, before diving back in. The breath you had been holding escaped in a slow, shuddering sigh, mingling with his as he drew you closer, his hands firmly cupping your hips.

Damian seemed to swallow every sweet sound you made, chuckling softly as you mumbled curses against his lips, your grip on his tie tightening. The world around you blurred into insignificance, leaving just the two of you enveloped in a bubble of intense sensation. Your breaths came in ragged bursts, eyes fluttering open and then closing again, lost in the heat of the moment. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless and flushed, the lingering electric buzz of the kiss still crackling in the air between you.

Damian and you locked eyes, his face blank until a shit-eating grin slowly spread across his face.

"I hate you so much," you scowled. “You’re impossible, Damian Wayne.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing whisper. He leaned in, using your own words against you. “Admit it—you love every second of it, don’t you?”

Before you could respond, he tilted your chin up, his lips brushing lightly against yours as he whispered, “Let them see. They’ll just have to get used to the sight.”

The kiss was softer this time, more tender, as you swayed gently against him, savoring the moment of calm.

BOOM.

Without warning, the tranquility was shattered by a deafening explosion. 

The sound of shattering glass and a violent burst of energy tore through the ballroom, turning the once elegant space into a scene of utter chaos. Crystal chandeliers swung erratically from the ceiling, their light flickering in disorienting patterns as debris rained down like confetti. The room erupted into a frenzy of screams and frantic movement as everyone scrambled for cover.

“Holy shit!” you gasped, your voice barely piercing through the screams and destruction.

CREAK.

A sudden, ominous groan echoed through the room, drawing your gaze upward. The chandelier, swaying precariously, seemed to shudder as its support gave way. Then, with a heart-stopping creak, the massive fixture began to fall. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Damian’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip. 

“Move!”

You scrambled to keep up with his rapid pace, but your long gown snagged on the edge of a flipped table, sending you sprawling to the floor with a jarring thud. Your hand slipped from his grip, and Damian, realizing you were no longer beside him, turned back in a surge of panic.

With no time to guide you gently to safety, he yanked you up from the floor. He pulled you both behind the overturned table, using it as a makeshift barricade.

The chandelier crashed down with a thunderous roar, sending shards of glass, splintered wood, and shattered fragments spiraling through the air. As the debris rained down, you screamed and reached out desperately for Damian. Without hesitation, he rushed to your side, enveloping you in his arms. He pulled you close, pressing your face into his chest and shielding you from the rain of debris with his body.

Finally, the noise of destruction faded into a heavy silence. Damian lifted his head slightly, peering down at you.

“Are you okay?” he panted, voice edged with worry.

Shaken up, you heaved and shook your head vehemently, unable to find the words through your trembling fear.

“What the fuck was that?” 

"I don't have a single clue," Damian shrugged, eyes still scanning the room as he peeked over the edge of the table.

From the smoke emerged a middle-aged man, suspended in the air by his mechanical arms—sleek, metallic, and bristling with a variety of intimidating gadgets. The arms whirred and slashed through the air with deadly force, carving through the walls and sending more chunks of debris down.

“You think you can just throw away everything I’ve built?” the man roared. “This school, this place, it’s all been a mockery of my work, my life! I’ve sacrificed everything for this and you’ve repaid me with nothing but scorn!”

Damian cursed under his breath. He settled back down, biting off the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off with a grunt. Pulling up his sleeve, he tapped an emergency button on his wrist, activating a silent alert to his family.

“We have to go,” Damian whispered. He shrugged off his suit jacket and wrapped you in the fabric, pulling you close. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as he sprinted through the chaos.

He carried you swiftly through the building’s hallways, the shrill sound of distant alarms and the echo of your hurried footsteps reverberating off the walls. When you finally reached a safer location, he paused briefly, his sharp eyes scanning the area for any further threats.

“I’ll be okay,” you said, your voice trembling as he gently set you down. You gripped his hands tightly, trying to steady your breath. “Do—do you have your suit?”

“It’s in the car,” Damian grumbled, frustration evident in his voice as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“I’ll stay here and start helping with evacuations,” you say, already moving to slip out of your heels, the shoes discarded onto the floor.

Damian opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off, shaking your head firmly.

“No,” you said firmly, your scowl sharpening. “None of this again. I make my own decisions.”

Damian’s expression hardened. “You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not supposed to be in harm’s way.”

"It's just evacuations. I’m not going to be fighting," you met his gaze as you stood up straight again. “And I’m not going to stand by while others are in danger.”

“Fine,” he said begrudgingly, “but stay hidden and keep away from the villain.”

“I know,” you said softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You met his gaze lovingly before turning to re-enter the chaos. The corridors were now a frenzy of frantic students and faculty, desperately trying to evacuate.

Damian shot you one last look before sprinting back toward the parking lot.

You slipped back into the ballroom, heart pounding in your chest. The smoke swirled around you, as decor and debris lay strewn across the floor. Amid the chaos, you spotted a girl trapped beneath a toppled table, her muffled cries barely reaching your ears. Clutching your dress in your hands to avoid tripping, you hurried over to her.

“Hey, we need to move!” you called out, shoving aside the debris and wrestling with the heavy wood. With a determined push, you finally freed her from the wreckage. She wobbled as she stood, but you swiftly caught her, your grip steady and reassuring. “You’re okay now. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Everyone’s heading for the exits. We need to move quickly,” you replied, guiding her toward the nearest emergency exit. The sounds of the villain’s rampage echoed through the room, punctuated by the distant wail of sirens.

Once the girl was able to get back on her feet and run on her own, you rushed to assist another group, directing them towards the exits and making sure they stayed calm.

SWISH.

There was a sudden, sharp slice, and you snapped your head back toward the ballroom. Damian had reappeared, now clad in his suit.

“Robin?!”

With a decisive, diagonal slash, his katana cleaved through one of the villain’s mechanical arms. The blade sliced through the metal with a sharp, resonant hiss, and the arm’s severed end burst into a cascade of dazzling sparks. Pieces of twisted metal flew through the air like shrapnel, their jagged edges catching the erratic light from the shattered chandeliers.

His cape, a deep, blood-red shroud, billowed behind him like a dark wave, trailing in his wake as he moved. The clash of his katana against the villain’s mechanical arms echoed through the room, each strike a precise blur of red and black. 

Amidst the fight, your eyes were drawn to a figure huddled in the far corner. The student, paralyzed with fear, was frozen in place, eyes wide and fixed on the destruction unfolding before them.

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards them, nimbly navigating through the scattered debris and overturned tables. As you reached the student, you crouched beside them and gently placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Alright? We’re going to get through this, but you need to move—now!” 

The student’s terrified eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope as they slowly began to rise with your help. Their breath came in shallow, panicked gasps, each exhale mingling with the smoky haze that filled the air. You grunted, your muscles straining as you slipped your arms beneath their shoulders, lifting them to their feet.

"Move!" you urged, guiding the student toward the doors. Their feet stumbled over the debris, but you kept a firm grip on their arm, pulling them along through the chaos. As you hurriedly navigated the wreckage-strewn floor, you felt a strange tingling sensation creeping up your leg.

It started as a subtle prickle, almost like static electricity, but quickly grew into an unsettling sensation that made your skin crawl. You glanced down, trying to pinpoint the source, but the shifting shadows and debris obscured your view. 

The legs of a spider, sleek and shadowy, crawled up the fabric of your emerald dress. Its tiny, pulsating body was nearly camouflaged against the rich material, and its eight eyes glinted with an eerie green glow, peering out from the shadows of the gown. 

Oblivious to its presence, you continued leading the student toward the safer part of the ballroom, focused on ensuring their escape.

The spider’s glow intensified, its eerie green light pulsating with an ominous rhythm as it crawled up your arm. Just as you pushed the student to safety, a sharp, burning sensation erupted where the spider sank its fangs deep into your skin. A piercing scream erupted from your lips.  The searing pain surged through your body, radiating outwards from the bite like a fiery wave. In a frantic, instinctive reaction, you slapped at your bicep, your nails digging into the skin. 

Panicked, Damian’s head snapped in your direction, eyes widening in alarm as he spotted you writhing in pain. In his moment of distraction, a metal arm swung violently towards him. The arm connected with a sickening thud against his side, the force of the impact sending him hurtling through the air. 

Damian crashed into a wall with a bone-jarring slam and his body crumpled to the ground, the force of the impact visibly shaking him. He lay there, gasping for breath, spit and blood spilling from his chin.

Groaning, he raised his head, feeling the crack in his mask press against his face. Strands of dark hair fell over his single exposed eye, partially obscuring his vision. Squinting through the haze of pain, he cursed under his breath as he saw the villain advancing toward you.

The spider's venom surged through your veins, a wave of searing, unbearable pain radiating from the bite. You stumbled and collapsed to the floor, struggling to stay upright. Pain tore through you as you crawled toward a nearby pillar, your fingers clawing weakly at the surface

Through the haze of your deteriorating vision and the throbbing fog that clouded your mind, you could barely make out the figure of the villain advancing toward you. His mechanical arms whirred with a menacing hum, their sharp, glinting edges catching the dim light of the ruined ballroom.

The last thing you saw before darkness swallowed you was a blur of red.

With a snarl, Damian lunged, his katana slicing through the air with deadly intent. The blade crashed into the villain's mechanical arm, the impact resonating like a gunshot. Sparks exploded from the severed joint, showering the room in a cascade of crackling light as the villain staggered, his metal limbs convulsing with malfunction.

Sliding across the debris-strewn floor, Damian executed a perfect skid, coming to a stop on his knees. He positioned himself between you and the advancing threat, his katana held in a poised, defensive stance.

“Is this all you’ve got?” Damian seethes. “A pathetic tantrum because your grandiose plans fell apart? You’re nothing more than a washed-up has-been clinging to your failures.” 

“You think you know what it’s like to sacrifice everything? To watch your life's work crumble? You have no idea what I’ve lost! My research was going to change the world!”

The villain’s mechanical arms flared up in response, their whirring growing louder as he prepared to strike again. Just as an arm was about to land, the piercing whir of a batarang sliced through the air. It struck the villain’s mechanical arm with precision, a bright explosion erupting from the impact. Damian grunted as he braced himself, holding firm against the shockwave, his muscles straining to keep steady. One hand instinctively dropped to your head, shielding you from the force. 

The villain recoiled in surprise, momentarily disoriented by the sudden blast, his movements faltering as the shockwave threw him off balance.

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in darkness. The lights flickered and died, plunging the space into a pitch-black void. Shadows danced along the walls, punctuated by loud bangs and the crackling of debris.

Through the darkness, Batman emerged, his imposing figure cutting through the shadows. The sound of his cape rustling was almost like a herald of doom as he got into a fighting stance.

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was a low, commanding growl, “take the girl. I’ll handle it from here.”

Damian wasted no time, swiftly scooping you into his arms. The icy chill of your skin against his own drove a spear of terror through him. The panic clawing at the edges of his mind was a monster he couldn’t afford to face, not now. He focused on keeping you as steady as possible, though your limp form felt like dead weight against him.

He tore out of the ballroom, his shoes skidding on the polished floor as he barreled into the hallway. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale burning in his lungs, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t. The entrance was just ahead.

Bursting through the doors, Damian propelled himself into the open air. The scene outside was pure pandemonium. Parents screamed for their children, kids clung to each other in terror, and the harsh wail of sirens pierced the night. Ambulance lights flickered like distant stars in the dark, red and blue blurs.

Now outside, Damian spotted a group of paramedics and, without a second thought, sprinted toward them. His hands shook slightly as he laid you down on the gurney, the coldness of your skin searing itself into his memory.

“She’s unresponsive,” he rushed out in a pant. “Pale skin, cold to the touch. Vital signs are unknown. She needs immediate attention.”

As he spoke, Selina rushed over, her fur coat billowing with each urgent step. The strands of her short, dark hair whipped wildly around her face, framing eyes wide with fear.

She bent down to your level, her breath visible in the cool night air as she placed a trembling hand on your forehead. Her fingers, warm against the alarming chill of your skin, recoiled slightly at the clammy coldness that greeted them. Selina winced, her gaze hardening as she took in the stark contrast between your deathly pallor.

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice taut with concern.

A paramedic, swiftly assessing your condition, replied, “We think she’s in shock. We’ll stabilize her and check for any other issues.”

Selina’s eyes, reflecting a storm of emotions, darted between you and Damian.

“Go,” she urged Damian, her voice carrying a firm edge despite the underlying tremor of her fear. “I’ve got this under control. Go take down that bastard and make him pay for what he did.”

Damian hesitated for a heartbeat, his gaze lingering on you. Every muscle in his body screamed to stay, but there was still a threat that left no room for hesitation. He nodded and without another word, turned and sprinted back toward the building. His cape flared out behind him, a streak against the night sky.

Selina's eyes followed Damian's retreating figure momentarily before refocusing on the paramedics. She watched them with sharp eyes, taking in every action and every word. Her hand never left your forehead, each pass of her thumb trying to provide comfort that her heart couldn’t.

As the haze of unconsciousness began to lift, you slowly became aware of your surroundings. The dim, unfamiliar light filtered through your closed eyelids, and a dull, persistent ache from the bite lingered in your arm. You winced, raising a hand to your arm to find that the pain had subsided, leaving only a faint, dull throb. There was no scar, just a vague sense of discomfort. 

Was that just a dream?

Before you could think about it anymore, your aunt's face was already in your peripheral. 

Selina's voice caught in her throat as your eyes began to flutter open. Her grip on your hand tightened involuntarily, a mix of relief and worry playing across her features.

"Hey, there," she said softly. "You gave us quite a scare, sweetheart."

You stared at her in confusion, teeth chattering against the biting cold. Selina’s eyes softened and she shed her coat, the plush fur rustling softly as it slipped from her shoulders. With gentle hands, she draped the coat around you, the dense, velvety texture brushing against your skin. The rich, warm scent of her perfume mingled with the coat’s embrace. As the coat enveloped you, its heat began to seep into your shivering body, gradually easing the icy grip of the cold.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, the words more for her own reassurance than yours.

The night was supposed to be a celebration, a rite of passage, a milestone to cherish. Instead, it had turned into yet another brutal reminder of what Gotham’s streets truly were: a merciless battleground that chewed up hope and spat it out with a sneer.

God, this city was shit. 

Selina sighed, pushing those thoughts aside for the moment. The priority now was clear: get you home and into dry clothes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly, her fingers tracing a path along your cheek as if trying to reassure herself that you were truly okay. 

“Dizzy,” you mumbled. A soft groan escaped your lips as you tried to shake off the haze clinging to your senses. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, only to snap open again with a jolt as a sudden realization struck you.

“Damian—where—” you gasped, your voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. In a frantic attempt to sit up, you tried to push yourself upright, but the paramedics and Selina were quick to intervene. Their hands gently, yet firmly, guided you back down onto the gurney.

“Whoa, easy there,” Selina murmured soothingly. “Don’t push yourself. The paramedics said you’re in shock. You need to stay still for now.” 

You could feel the gentle pressure of her hands, steady and reassuring, as they anchored you in place. Her eyes, bright green, locked onto yours, conveying more than words ever could. She took a breath, her gaze flickering to the paramedics who were working swiftly around you.

“And Damian is... with his father,” she said, her voice trailing off as she gave you a look, the unspoken meaning in it clear.

Selina’s gaze shifted back to the paramedics with her usual air of confidence. She squared her shoulders, her tone now authoritative.

“Is there a chance I could take her home?” Selina asked, brushing her fingers through your hair with a gentle but firm touch. “It’s getting late, and I’d really rather have her safe in her room.”

The paramedic, a no-nonsense woman named Helen, gave Selina a critical once-over before shifting her gaze to you. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, took in your pale face and the faint tremors still running through your body.

“Well, she’s stable enough for transport, and we’ve done the basic stabilizing procedures,” Helen said, her tone pragmatic. “But she’s still in shock, and it could be risky to move her too quickly. Are you sure you can handle her?”

“She’s my kid. I’ve dealt with worse, believe me,” she replied with a wry grin.

Helen’s gaze softened slightly, though her voice remained stern. “Alright, but she’ll need monitoring for the next 24-48 hours. Light meals, plenty of rest. And no strenuous activity. She should see a doctor as soon as possible.”

Selina’s fingers idly traced patterns on the back of your hand as she listened intently to Helen’s instructions. 

“I’ll make sure all of that’s taken care of. Thank you,” Selina said, her voice carrying a rare note of sincerity. Helen nodded, seemingly satisfied with Selina’s response. She handed Selina a card with basic instructions and a phone number to call if any complications arose.

Despite your reluctance to leave while Damian was still knee-deep in the battle, your hazy mind and Selina's insistence eventually led to you being pushed into the back of your aunt's sleek convertible.

The drive was a blur of city lights and concerned glances from Selina. You leaned back, your head resting against the cool, smooth leather of the seat. The gentle hum of the engine beneath you was a steady, rhythmic comfort, a small solace amidst the turmoil. 

"Don't worry," Selina murmured, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to check on you. "Damian can handle himself. And the Bat will make sure he's safe. You rest. I'll tell you if anything happens to him."

Her words were a quiet promise amidst the rush of the city outside. You nodded weakly, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily on your eyelids. As the city sped by, its neon glow and shifting shadows blending into a dreamlike haze, you closed your eyes. The fatigue finally overtook you, and you drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

༻⊰───⋅

 Sunday , 9:02 AM - Your room, Catwoman’s Apartment.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

There was a deep, throbbing ache in your arm, an insistent rhythm that seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, dragging you reluctantly from the depths of sleep. Your eyelids fluttered open to the soft, golden light spilling through the curtains, bathing your bedroom in a warm, comforting glow.

Through the thin walls, the distant murmur of the waking metropolis began to seep in—honking horns, the rhythmic rumble of early morning traffic, and the intermittent chatter of pedestrians starting their day. Occasionally, a siren's wail pierced through the background noise, a sharp reminder of the city's ceaseless pulse.

Faintly, through the walls, the muffled sound of the living room TV drifted to you.

“Good morning, Gothamites! Looking for another beautiful day here in the city. Clouds to start off with, but a pleasant afternoon ahead. Temperature’s in the high 40s—”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

With a groan of frustration, you reached out to silence the blaring alarm clock. As you swung your arm toward it, the clock was crushed under the force. It slammed into the table, which splintered and buckled under the impact. Wood cracked and shattered, sending fragments skittering across the floor. The sudden and violent destruction jolted you fully awake. You stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving, at the mess, your arm still extended in mid-air as if it was frozen.

“What the—?” you muttered, your voice trailing off as you inspected your hand. It looked like your hand, perfectly normal and familiar. Just a normal hand.

Carefully, you climbed out of bed, wincing as you surveyed the mess of splintered wood and scattered debris strewn across the floor. 

You paused. A sudden, sharp tingle pulsed through your arm, like an electric jolt that raced beneath your skin. It was both invigorating and disorienting, sending a rush of awareness through your senses. Instinctively, you turned your head, your reflexes sharp as your hand darted out to catch a fly that had buzzed too close.

To your shock, your fingers closed around the tiny insect with a reflex you didn’t know you possessed. You stared at the fly, trapped gently between your fingers. Carefully, you opened your hand and let the fly go. 

It darted away, disappearing into the room. 

“Okay... That was new,” you muttered, shaking your head as if trying to clear away the confusion.

The tingling in your arm surged again, sharper and more insistent this time. You winced, the sensation both alien and unsettling, your mind struggling to grasp what was happening. Instinctively, you extended your hand, your gaze fixed on it in growing confusion.

Then, without warning, your fingers curled involuntarily, and something shot out from your wrist. A thin, silvery thread erupted into the air, glistening with a strange, iridescent sheen. 

THWIP.

The web snaked through the room, swift and fluid, before anchoring itself with a solid thunk against the wall. The sight of it—a web, unmistakably organic, stretching taut and firm—left you gaping in shock.

“What the actual fuck,” you freaked out. You took a hesitant step forward and tugged on it, half-expecting it to dissolve under your touch. But the webbing held firm.

You tried to pull it away, but it stayed stubbornly in place. Grunting, you pressed a foot against the wall for leverage and yanked harder. The webbing resisted with surprising strength, and a series of warning cracks echoed before a chunk of concrete broke away, crumbling under the strain.

The sudden release caught you off guard, sending you stumbling backward. You lost your balance and fell hard onto the floor, the impact knocking the breath out of you. For a moment, you just lay there, sprawled across the hardwood, your chest heaving as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

“What the fuck did I just get myself into?” you muttered to yourself, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up in your throat.

When you finally moved to stand, curiosity got the better of you. Experimenting, you aimed your hand at different parts of the room, determined to understand this strange new ability. 

This time, when you extended your hand, the web shot out with precision, latching onto a nearby lamp. You gave it a pull, and the lamp skidded across the floor toward you.

There was another tingle, and you perked up. The sensation was almost electric, a ripple of anticipation that seemed to focus on your bedroom door. As you turned toward it, the door swung open and Selina stepped in, dressed in her pajamas.

"What's with the noise...?” she trailed off and froze in the doorway, her eyes widening as they took in the chaos of the room. Broken wood and scattered debris covered the floor, interspersed with strands of glistening webbing clinging to the walls and lamp.

“Oh,” Selina murmured in surprise. She stepped cautiously over a particularly large piece of broken wood, her eyes darting around the room. Her gaze lingered on the webs, her brow furrowing as she raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Uh, good morning?” you offered weakly, trying to give a casual shrug despite the mess around you. “Mom, this might sound insane. But, I think I might have accidentally discovered superpowers.”

Selina stared at you, blinking slowly as she processed the scene before her. Her lips twitched as if she were trying to hold back a laugh or perhaps some form of disbelief.

“Accidentally discovered superpowers?” she echoed. “I think you've been around your boyfriend and his family too much. Baby—”

Before she could finish, your hand instinctively reached out. With a flick of your wrist, a web shot from your fingers and latched onto the door behind her. In a heartbeat, the door was yanked from its hinges, splintering as it flew across the room and crashed into the wall with a resounding thud.

Selina’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to face the now doorless doorway. She blinked at the empty space where the door had once been.

“Well,” she said, “I guess that’s one way to explain things.”

You stood there, face heating up as you tried to pull your hand back. “Y-Yeah, I think I need to work on my control.”

Selina shook her head, a frown on her lips. “Okay. First... Let’s get this mess cleaned up before the landlord starts asking questions. And maybe—just maybe—try not to redecorate the whole apartment with your... spider silk.”

༻⊰───⋅

A warm mug of coffee was placed in your hands as Selina settled beside you. You took a sip, but your knee continued to bounce in an anxious rhythm. She had called the school earlier to inform them that you would be taking it easy for the week, citing sickness as the reason.

You cast a glance at the puncture marks on your wrists with a mix of disgust and unease.

Oh, you felt sick alright.

"Alright," Selina said, taking a sip from her own coffee mug and setting it down with a clink. "We need to figure out what’s going on and how to handle it. The sooner we get a grasp on this, the better."

You nodded absentmindedly, flexing your fingers around your mug.

Selina sat with a laptop positioned between the two of you, its screen a chaotic mosaic of open newspaper articles and news websites. Humming softly to herself, she clicked through the pages, her eyes darting across headlines and images. The rhythmic clatter of her clicks was punctuated by occasional pauses as she focused on key details.

“Am I a meta?” you blurted out, staring at your reflection in the dark liquid of your coffee.

"Well," Selina began, her tone measured, "based on what we've seen so far, you're likely displaying meta-human traits. Though," she added with a wry smile, "I'm pretty sure I’m human despite the whole cat shtick. Same goes for your mother. Your father...well, that’s a different story."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean by that?"

"Secretive guy. Kind of insane," Selina murmured to herself. "He did genetics research—"

She paused.

"Wait a minute," she said, her voice trailing off as she seemed to piece together something significant. "Your father was involved in genetics research..."

Selina licked her lips before grumbling and typing into the laptop. The screen flickered, and she pulled up a dense academic paper with your father's name prominently displayed. The title read: "Genetic Enhancement through Arachnid DNA Integration: Potential and Pitfalls."

She stared at the screen for a moment, a mix of disbelief and concern crossing her face. "Total nutjob," she muttered, shaking her head.

You squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the technical jargon. "So... what’s it say?"

Selina’s fingers danced over the keyboard, scrolling through the dense paragraphs. "It describes experiments involving spider DNA to enhance human traits—strength, agility, and reflexes. Medical use too."

RING!

The sharp ring of your phone shattered the silence, jolting you both. Startled, you fumbled with the mug in your hand, which slipped from your grip and tumbled toward the floor. Your reflexes kicked in, and your foot shot out, catching the mug mid-fall with a swift kick, sending it flying back up into your hand. You blinked.

Selina’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, her gaze flicking from the mug in your foot to you. She grabbed a notepad from the desk, her pen already poised, and began scribbling furiously.

“Fast reflexes,” she muttered.

You scrambled to set the mug back on the table, your hands slick with sweat as you snatched your phone off the couch.

"Hello?" you answered, nervously wiping your damp hands on the fabric of your jeans. "W-Who’s this?"

"Beloved?" Damian’s voice crackled through your phone, sharp with an edge of worry. Arabic curses slipped through his words. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I didn’t mean to. I was knocked out after the confrontation.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You got knocked out? What happened?”

"Just a minor inconvenience for someone of my skillset," he said dismissively. "I’m fine now. But what of you? Father mentioned that Selina told him about your sudden absences from school.”

You hesitated, glancing at Selina, who shook her head vehemently. She pressed a finger to her lips, urging you to stay silent about the spider situation.

"Fine!" you squeaked. "Totally fine. Just... family matters."

Damian’s voice was laced with skepticism. "Family matters? Are you sure you’re alright?"

"Yep," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the strain. "Absolutely. Just... you know, the explosion rattled me a bit. The paramedics said I needed some rest for a few days.”

"I can head over to care for you—"

Selina rolled her eyes and extended her hand.

“Give me the phone,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. You hesitated for a moment, but the stern look on her face made it clear you had no choice. Reluctantly, you handed it over.

"Damian," she greeted him with a sickly sweet tone, "this is Selina. Everything is under control here. There’s no need for you to come breaking into my apartment."

There was a grunt before Damian responded, "Miss Kyle, I insist. It’s no trouble. I should be there to help. As any partner would."

Selina’s eyes flashed with irritation as she leaned against the couch, arms crossed. "I appreciate your concern, kid. But it’s really not necessary. She’s fine."

"Fine?" Damian’s voice took on a mocking tone. "After a confrontation like that? I highly doubt it. Recovery after such an incident can be complicated.”

Selina scowled. Her voice cut through the phone line with a sharp edge. "Damian, do you seriously doubt my abilities as a guardian?"

There was a pause.

"With all due respect—"

"I've got this!" Selina hissed. "She's safe, she's resting, and you're not needed here right now. Understood?"

There was another pause before Damian reluctantly agreed. "Understood. But if anything happens—"

"You'll be the first to know," Selina assured him "Now, go take care of yourself. I have got this handled."

"Fine," Damian said, still sounding begrudging. "Take care."

Selina handed the phone back to you, her expression exasperated. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“You couldn’t even imagine,” you snorted as you pressed the phone back to your ear. “Hi, baby.”

Damian’s voice crackled through the speakers, the faint static only adding to the gruffness of his tone. 

"Tt. Hello," he grumbled, his tone falling flat. You couldn’t help but snicker, the sound escaping despite your best efforts to stifle it. 

“Don’t be mad,” you whisper into the phone. “I’ll only be gone for a week. You’ll survive. Mom's right—I’m in good hands. You need to focus on recovering too.”

“Anything at all. Father and Alfred have confined me to my bed, but the window to my bedroom remains open. The sheer ignorance of their restraint measures astounds me—they failed to account for my skills in evading such confinement.”

"Please, don’t try to escape through your window on my behalf. I really don’t need Bruce lecturing us again,” you groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. 

“Very well,” Damian said with a hint of a pout, “but do remember, I am at your disposal if you should require anything.”

“Uh huh,” you hummed. “I’ll see you soon. Take care of yourself, Dami.”

“And you, my beloved,” he said, his voice softening. “Until then.”

There was a beep, and the call ended. You sighed, letting your hand drop.

Selina took a sip of her coffee, her lips curling into a wry grin. “He’s just like his father—equally obsessive and protective. Must run in the genes. That or we just have a knack for ensnaring emotionally constipated men.”

You laughed, a light, nervous sound that filled the room. As you tried to drop your phone back on the couch, you were met with unexpected resistance. The phone stubbornly adhered to your hand, as if it had decided to become a permanent accessory.

“Uh…” 

You squinted at the phone, wriggling your fingers and trying to shake it off. No matter what you did, the phone remained firmly in place, glued to your palm.

"Sticky hands?" Selina suggested, glancing at the notepad in her hand now filled with scribbled notes and observations. She made a note with a touch of amusement, her pen moving quickly across the page.

Grumbling under your breath, you made a few more attempts to pry the phone off your hand. “Looks like it. Just another thing to add to the list of weird,” you huffed.

With furrowed brows, you used your other hand to grip the phone, attempting to twist it away. In your distracted state, you failed to account for your newfound strength. The device crumbled under your grip, shards of plastic and glass exploding across the couch.

You stared at the wreckage in disbelief, your heart sinking. Not missing a beat, Selina quickly scribbled down “Enhanced strength” on her notepad.

You grumbled as the remnants of your phone fell to the floor, a mix of frustration and embarrassment washing over you.

"Can't we—can't we call Batman for this?" you asked, your hand nervously tangling in your hair. "Why'd you stop me from telling Damian anyway?"

Selina’s expression turned severe. Her hands gripped your shoulders firmly, guiding you to face her.

"Listen to me. Batman, Damian, or anyone else cannot know about this right now."

"What—Mom—"

"Not a word," she cut in sharply. "This is meta-level stuff we're dealing with. The Bats don’t handle metas well. We need to keep this under wraps until we fully understand it. The last thing I need is Bruce doing something to hurt my daughter."

Your face fell as her words sank in.

Selina’s grip on your shoulders relaxed slightly, and her gaze softened. Her voice took on a gentler, more empathetic tone. "Power frightens people, especially when it’s something they don’t understand. When they encounter something extraordinary, their confusion often morphs into fear. And fear... well, fear can make people see threats where there are none."

She took a deep breath, her expression grim. "Batman, in particular, has contingency plans for every potential threat, even for his closest allies. We—I can't risk him viewing you as one." Her fingers tightened on your shoulders, a silent plea for understanding.

"Alright," you said quietly, trying to steady your voice. Lying to Bruce was one thing. But Damian... Damian was different. The thought of deceiving him felt like a weight pressing heavily on your chest.

Selina seemed to sense your hesitation. Her gaze softened, and she placed a hand gently on your shoulder. “I know it’s not easy,” she said, her tone soothing. “Damian is—”

“Different,” you finished for her, the word catching in your throat. “He’s always been there for me, and now... I’m just lying to him.”

Selina nodded. “I understand. But you know, that boy looks up to his father. There’s no telling he won’t spill something. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

"I get it,” your lips pursed. “But... what do we do now?"

Selina’s expression shifted from intense to thoughtful as she took a step back, her grip loosening. She glanced at the scattered remnants of your phone, then at the notepad filled with her hastily scribbled notes.

"Well," she sighed, "we need to find another space. I think you've done enough damage in our apartment."

 ༻⊰───⋅

NEXT ->

will you hold me instead, and tell me that it's over now?

i look forward to a little me and you, so now i hope that you don't tell me that it's over

or; patching jason up after an intense mission [2.1k]

jason todd x fem!reader; angst/fluff; brief mentions of human trafficking and allusion to murder (he's talking about how the mission went); mention of his scars; jason being insecure & thinking he's not good enough😞; description of injuries and the first aid applied to them (please do not take anything as actual medical advice); this is me hard-launching my physical touch x touch starved!jason agenda

You don’t know how early it is when you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, just that it’s too early. It’s not like you could sleep anyway; you spent the night drifting in and out of semi-consciousness, too worried to let yourself relax. You always got like this when Jason went away on missions. Several days, and sometimes even weeks, spent anxiously anticipating the state in which he would return home—you haven’t been able to get a manicure since before you met him.

You’re still a little delirious when a hand ghosts up your arm, stirring you from your half-sleep. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room and register the sight in front of you. Your boyfriend is on one knee on the floor in front of you, brushing strands of hair out of your face with endearing eyes.

“There she is,” he says when you lift your head off the pillow and reach out to him. He catches your hand and kisses your fingertips, spreading a warmth up your arm that combats the midnight chill. You push yourself up to a sitting position, and he takes the opportunity to cup his hands around your face and bring you in for a kiss.

“Missed you,” you mumble against him, and his lips curve upwards against yours.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” His mouth travels up from yours towards your temple, leaving a path of gentle kisses in his wake. Your palms, pressed flat against his chest, slide up to loop around his neck. He tenses, choking back a strained grunt. But you catch it.

You pull back abruptly. “Are you hurt?” Your eyes frantically dart around, scanning his entire body. Now fully alert, you reach over to the bedside table and switch the lamp on.

“’s just a bruise, baby, I’m fine.” A hand comes up to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. But with newly unobstructed vision, you can see more than just a bruise. He has a busted lip, a shallow gash on his temple, and splotches of purple and red peeking out of his shirt collar.

“You’re bleeding, Jason,” you chastise him, getting up off the bed.

He stands alongside you with a huff. “It’s nothing,” he sighs. “Doesn’t even hurt.” But when you take his hand and start pulling him to the bathroom, he follows without argument. You lead Jason to sit down on the edge of the tub and fetch the first aid kit from under the sink, setting it down next to him on the bathtub ledge. You stand between his legs, your positions making you a half-head taller than him. He gazes up at you and for the first time tonight you notice how dark and deep the skin under his eyes is.

“Off,” you order, dragging up the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it off, wincing when it requires him to lift his bruised arm.

“Someone’s eager,” he muses, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner. It earns him a swat on the arm; he grunts loudly and doubles over in pain.

You gasp. “Oh my god! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I—”

But when he looks up, it’s with a coy smirk and a twinkle in his eye. You swat him again.

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you can’t help the slight twitch at the corner of your lips. “Why didn’t you take care of this earlier? Alfred wasn’t at the manor to help you?”

He shrugs his good shoulder. “Don’t know. Came straight here.”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” You ask.

He looks at you blankly, as if to say, don’t you know who you’re talking to?

You sigh, exasperated. “You shouldn’t have done that, Jason. What if ended up becoming serious? And you didn’t make it here in time? What if—” 

He interrupts your doom spiral by pressing a finger to your lips. “I know, honey, I’m sorry. But I wanted to see you.”

You sigh. There’s a sadness to it, one that comes from familiarity with the fact that he does not care for himself as much as he should—as much as he deserves. But there are no words to make him believe it that you haven’t tried, so all you do is lean your forehead against his, hoping he can hear the what you don’t say. You need him to hear you.

“You’re not sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m not,” he whispers back.

You start with his shoulder, which was decidedly not ‘just a bruise,’ but actually several bruises, all clumped together to form one giant Franken-bruise that covered his entire shoulder. It gets rubbed with ointment and you’re not sure who it pains more, because while you’re spilling out frantic apologies as you try to speed through it, Jason is white-knuckling the edge of the tub with a wad of gauze between his teeth. 

His lip doesn’t require any medical attention, but he insists you kiss it better anyway, and who are you to deny him? 

You tend to his temple last, but he’s antsy now. His leg bounces up and down, one hand is drumming its fingers on the tub, and the other is fiddling with the loose threads that hang from the hem of your shirt; you have to scold him into sitting still.

“Where’s the dermabond?” You ask, sifting through the contents of the first aid kid.

“Used it up last month, remember? After you just had to feed that fuckin’ squirrel.” His voice is gruff at the recollection. “Should be a new pack under the sink.”

You fetch the new box, picking at the plastic wrapping. “Can you blame me? He was so cute.”

“Yeah, was. Until that greedy fucker decided he wanted the whole picnic.” Jason sees you struggling with the plastic covering and takes it from you, breaks it open, then hands it back. “Bastard.”

You giggle. “You know, you could’ve just let him have the cupcake. It wasn’t worth risking rabies for.” You fish out the glass tube of surgical glue, tossing its cardboard box aside.

“‘Course it was. My girl wanted red velvet, she should get her red velvet.” Jason’s hands finally rest on the backs of your bare thighs, squeezing them lightly. He grins when that makes you let out a little squeak.

You roll your eyes, though there’s a warmth flowing in your veins that courses from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your feet. “My hero,” you muse with a smile.

There’s a pause. Then:

“I’m not a hero,” he responds. His tone is still light, but his eyes feel far away.

You start to clean the blood from the wound, which has since clotted and dried, with a saline-soaked cotton pad. He stares at you while you clean and then close the cut with the glue. And when you finish, supplies set aside and glue cured, he’s still staring. His eyes are traveling all over your face, taking in each feature, committing every ridge, every angle, every pore, every freckle to memory. The light-hearted teasing demeanor from mere moments ago is long gone. You're a deer caught in emerald headlights.

You recognize this shift. You noticed hints of it since he arrived home, but assumed it was just due to the pain. Now it’s obvious that there’s more. It’s the same shift that comes when the news becomes a circus, or when he stares at his scars in the mirror for too long.

His hands slide up your body slowly, reverently. One stops at your waist while the other continues, blazing a trail up your ribcage, over the side of your breast. He pauses at your shoulder for a split second, squeezing the flesh every so gently before continuing up your neck. His thumb drags across your collarbone, brushing against the spot that always lights up your senses and parts your lips in a breathy sigh. He stops when he reaches your face. He cups your cheek. Your hand covers his and you lean into his hold, the stroke of your small, soft fingers juxtaposing the rough callouses of his knuckles. You stay here for a moment before turning to press your lips to his palm once, twice, thrice, four times, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

“What is it, Jason?” Your hands come to cradle his neck before dragging up to his hair, and his move to wrap around your torso and pull you closer into him. You place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Hmm?”

“I’m not a hero,” he says again, softer.

“Jay,” you whisper. “You know that’s not true.”

He says nothing, only heaving a heavy sigh and burying his face into the crook of your neck. You’re content to stand like this, to simply hold him and graze your nails against his scalp for as long as he needs while he inhales the comforting scent of your skin.

After what could have been one minute or twenty, he pulls back to look up at you. He looks exhausted. “It was a human trafficking case,” he says. “They knew we were closing in on ‘em, so we had to act fast. They were…trying to…” He trails off, unsure how to put it in words delicate enough to spare you. He breaks eye contact. “Destroy the evidence,” he finishes.

You don’t respond. Despite the heavy silence that follows this admission, you know he’s not done. It takes another several minutes of stroking fingers and feather-light hairline kisses to coax it out of him.

“There was a woman. She…we didn’t—“ His voice cracks. “I didn’t get there in time.”

“Oh, honey.” You run your palm over his forehead, pushing back his thick waves. His eyelids slide down over glassy irises as he sinks into your touch. You lean down to press your lips to his forehead. “You know that’s not your fault,” you whisper. He shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“But if I’d just—”

“No, Jason.” You grip his face between your palms. He opens his eyes at the sudden sternness. “But nothing. You did everything you possibly could—”

“You don’t know that,” he interrupts.

“I do know that. I know because you are always doing everything you can. For me, and for everyone in this city. And I know that it wasn’t just you on that mission. Do you blame anyone else for what happened?”

He says nothing, but his eyes are welling with tears.

“You saved so many other people, Jason. You are a hero, and you know that. You have to know that.” Some of his tears spill over, but you brush your thumbs across his cheeks and kiss them away.

He pulls you onto his lap so your legs are straddled over his and rests his head against your sternum. His arms squeeze impossibly tight around your waist, but you don’t say anything. When his shoulders tremble and you feel the dampness on the front of your shirt, you still don’t say anything. And when he places a hand on the back of your head to pull you in for a hard, searing kiss that leaves you both breathless, you don’t say anything. You just look at him, at how pretty he is, and hope that he can hear you.

The sounds of buzzing echo in from the next room. To your dismay, he turns away, towards the direction of your phones. “I should get that,” he says. His voice is hollow. “It’s probably the bats wanting to know where I am. They’ll send a search party if I don’t check in.”

He’s about to move you off his lap, but you stop him. “In a minute, Jay.”

Jason’s forehead crinkles. You use your thumb to smooth it out.

“Please?” You breathe out. “Just let me look at you a little longer. I love looking at you.”

He relaxes back into his seat. And you keep looking at him. At his beautifully rosy cheeks and shining eyes, his puffed lips. The scar that runs diagonally down his slightly crooked nose.

It’s dawn now; the tangerine beginnings of sunrise elicit a soft glow that spills through the window. Jason takes it all in. The two of you together in the home you share, arms around each other, your face all honeyed and beautiful in the light.

And you know he can hear you.

love when you guys leave messages/feedback it really brightens up my day<3

divider is from here

hes so hot

I genuinely love how in batfam fanfics….

Dick is like: little D (Damian), Timmy Tim, little wing (Jason) I’m on my way my baby bros!!!

And then in canon….

Dick: *perpetually perturbed by his codependent siblings but knows he’ll never not answer cause who else is gonna pull their dumbassses out the gutter*

it's december so time to stare at my art output for the year!!!

picked out some stuff that i'm ok with. wish i had more art to show but im trying to let it go since i was gone for 4 months this year. here's hoping for more drawing time next year

── 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you're less than pleased to be marrying the arrogant noble your parents arranged for you. On the day of your wedding, you cross paths with a pirate who seems keen on ruining your big day, and you couldn't be more thrilled.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: minor alabasta spoilers, arranged marriage, I kind of went ham on the descriptions and readers backstory in general, violence, mother issues

𝐚/𝐧: *arises from where i fell off the face of the earth and throws down an offering* greetings.

“Respectfully…” You took a moment to compose yourself, sipping from your teacup and raising your eyes to settle on your soon-to-be husband. “You are the scum of the earth, Mr. Toleson.”

Mr. Toleson, quite used to this, only rolled his eyes and moved to pour you more tea. “Pray tell me what I have done to receive such contempt, Miss?”

That question could not easily be answered. Did your contempt stem from your lack of choice, or from Mr. Toleson’s less than agreeable disposition? Or perhaps from society’s overall decision that whatever may happen, you should sit still and be merry. Who cares if your marriage is loveless and your life unfulfilled?

You dropped another sugar cube in your tea and stirred it around. Maybe it was everything all at once. And Mr. Toleson’s… superiority in age didn’t help matters either. The rickety man just reached his late fifties, his hair reaching a color not yet gray, but most definitely not the brown of his youth. You’d seen pictures. He was a handsome boy twenty years ago, when you were but a lemon-shaped babe in the womb.

“I had plans,” you answer at last. “Plans that do not include you.”

His eyes twinkled like the idea was preposterous, his mustaches curling with his lips. Mr. Toleson gazed at you like a child, only discomforting you even further about the idea of sharing a marriage bed. “What plans, Miss?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you snapped back. “I’m going to be chained to you all my life. Even after you die, which I assume will be soon given the state of you, I’ll be forced into widowhood. I look awful in black, you know, and pretending to grieve would do nothing for my mental state—oh, where are you going?”

Mr. Toleson had thrown down his napkin, face hot and brows screwed together. He peered down his nose at your poor attempt at hiding a smile. “When you’re my wife,” he said, tone even and dark, gaze even more so. “You’ll do well to learn manners, Miss.”

There was a threat in there somewhere, for certain, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Mr. Toleson huffed out his too-small nose and spun on his heel, barking at a poor attendant to fix the table’s preposterous flower arrangement.

You gave the young boy a sorry look and stood to leave when a sharp voice filtered in from the next room. 

“Mr. Toleson! Where are you going—?” Your mother’s shrill tone cut short, a growl of your name soon to follow.

“Shit.” You whirled on the attendant boy with a pointed finger. He froze, eyes wide as several petals fell loose onto the table. “Please,” you hissed, pressing your palms together. “Ypu must help me.”

The boy dropped the flowers back into the vase, splashing a bit of water. With a single nod, he beelined for the window, unlatching it and swinging it open. You rushed over, his hands pushing you outside. “This is the only way out, my lady.”

“I’ll fall—wait!” You were swinging your legs over the sill before you realized what you were doing. Heart pattering in your chest, you cast him a look, but he was already shutting the window and drawing the curtains behind you. “Oh, dear.”

Down below, about twenty feet down and beyond the hedged yard, were the streets of the city, carts pulled by mules and passersby tracking dirt and mud and other materials across the dirt roads. You glanced around the outer wall of Mr. Toleson’s house. A trellis ran down the side just one window away, which you could use to climb down to then jump into the hedges. Stealing a breath, you began to inch along the window sill, setting a delicate foot on the wide declarative trim running from each window to the next. When it didn’t crumble beneath your foot, you went on, barely breathing as you clung flush to the wall.

Reaching the window, precariously making a step up to the next sill, you nearly tipped backward when you caught your mother’s back through the window. Feet slipping, you scurried down the trellis, losing your grip every few seconds and clinging to the wall. Eventually, you touched the earth, dusting off your dress as you faced the garden wall. Ivy ran all along it, but you’d done enough exploring whilst avoiding Mr. Toleson’s advances to know that a gate hid behind the green. It led right into a damp, drippy alleyway. You cringed down at your custom-made shoes, costing a fortune for certain. Sacrifices had to be made, and today, your shoes paid the price. 

Your wedding was a day away, and with it the end of your happiness. Not that anyone cared about your happiness those days. Expelling a sigh, you wandered the streets till nightfall, returning to the grand house in the dead of night.

Your mother paced the entry hall when you stepped inside, the tall door booming shut behind you. Her eyes were on you like a hawk, her words sharp knives. “Where have you been?”

“Uptown,” you drawled, tossing your now dirtied shoes across the carpet. “Downtown. Midtown. Where haven’t I been is the real question.”

She looked close to exploding, cheeks inflated and lips pinched together. “You embarrassed me—You embarrassed Mr. Toleson!”

Waving an absent hand, “I couldn’t care less, woman. Now let me be before I drop dead of melancholy.”

A stiff utterance of your name struck the air, the impact on your back fleeting as you swept upstairs. Again and again, she cried your name till it sounded more like a beg than an order, and it halfway made you desire to face her. But facing your mother and having her see you had long been a futile task. 

Her voice struck your back until you reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hall, whipping open your bedroom door and slamming it back behind you. Swiftly locking it, you clawed at your chest, skin constricting and choking you out. That woman… your mother could never understand.

Once, you hoped maybe she could. Your oldest servant, a frail woman who’d been serving your mother for a decade, told you that your mother went through the same unfortunate situation as you. She walked an aisle leading to shackles, just as you would at tomorrow’s soon-coming dusk. But time had turned that woman cold, making her hellbent on sentencing you to the same fate.

Eyes scanning the room, you gave a shaken sigh. Tomorrow you would be forced into a similar room, but that one you would share with Mr. Toleson. Your skin crawled. “At least he only wants my money. He cares for nothing else.”

You slipped into bed, unsure of the next good sleep you’d receive.

જ ⁀ ➴

Up with the sun, you dressed quickly and slipped out of the house, careful not to make a sound as you exited onto the street. There was ample time between sunrise and the ceremony, each second passing with a daunting swiftness. Soon, the morning bells rang throughout the city, signaling that noon had fallen. 

You stared up at the sky as the chimes fell silent, chest constricting. This walk around the city had done nothing to quell your distress. In anything, it made it worse; people on the street beamed and congratulated you on sight, offering you flowers and well-wishes. You received them all with practiced kindness, even as doom lurked behind you.

“Just a few more hours,” you mumbled, taking refuge in a damp alley. “I can visit the old pond… perhaps the frogs will be out.”

Nodding, you slipped back out with a ducked chin, walking quickly through the crowds until so little as three people were around and the the stone streets faded into soft dirt paths underfoot. Through sparse trees and lonely wood, you made your way to the duckpond on the outskirts of the city. Not a soul around; perfect.

You plopped yourself on the ground and hugged your knees to your chest, oblivious to the dust curling around you. Maybe, if you stayed right there all day, no one would find you. You could sit through the whole ceremony—through the whole year, till weeds crawled up your limbs and rocks were surfaced by the winds. You’d become part of this pond when the rain fills it beyond the banks, dissolving into an urban legend of what happens to heartbroken young women.

You smiled for the first time in many weeks. That fate sounded as lovely as anything.

The reverie broke as voices crept up behind you. Peeking over your shoulder, you spotted two entities: the first being the constable, and the second farther behind him. This group of people was more like a gaggle, or perhaps a rabble, their boisterous tones causing the constable to cast them a glare.

You jumped to your feet before he could face forward again and darted toward to big oak tree you used to climb in your youth, skidding to a halt right behind it. The constable was good friends with your fiance and would surely escort you back home the instant he saw you. 

“Are you sure we can fish here?”

“I’m sure no one’s told us we can’t.”

“Sanji!”

One of the voices, presumably the one called Sanji, laughed in reply while their counterpart grumbled under their breath. Part of you felt the need to jump out and warn them against it, because surely the constable would be quick to apprehend them. But then he would also surely apprehend you.

“Sirs,” the gruff voice of the constable barked, right on cue. “Fishing in this pond is strictly prohibited. It’s for viewing only by law.”

The one called Sanji clicked his tongue. “Is there some sort of sign we missed? Because there’s no warning stopping us.”

Oh, dear. “I’m here to stop you. Now please, put away your tack and gear.” There were a few indignant huffs, but no rustling of a confrontation. Good, good… 

“Right. Now, have either of you gentlemen spotted a young woman about?” The constable proceeded to give your exact description, spiking a panic within you. The search party had already begun. “No? Drat. Perhaps I’m at the wrong pond… Good day to you…”

You remained behind the tree for five long minutes, listening to the constable’s steps fade away and the conversation between the two men go on. Peeking out, you saw a tall skinny blond and a man with dark skin at the pond’s edge, fishing of all things.

Puffing your cheeks, you stepped out with crossed arms. “He told you it's not allowed!”

Their heads swiveled around, eyes wide and startled. The blond was the first to recover, his hold on the fishing rod slackening as an easy smile slid across his face. “My, my, what kind of nymph are you?”

Your cheeks warmed as his eyes scanned you up and down. “The angry kind.”

The other man quirked a brow, quicker than the other. “Was that guy looking for you?”

Alarms went off in your mind. “Never mind that, just don’t fish in my pond.”

“Whatever you say~”

“Sanji!” 

Satisfied, you trudged off, letting their bickering be drowned out gradually. With the knowledge that the whole city now knew to look out for you, probably thinking the aloof noble girl just lost track of time, you took the long way around, slinking through dirty alcoves you once called your kingdom some years ago. 

This whole city was your empire, in your mind. You and the other young girls and boys traipsed about without a care, creating your own world only the lot of you could see. You, of course, were high empress of all alleyways.

Growing up like this meant your mighty empire was toppled. All your old friends had new lives now, time ticking by with mundane tasks and masks to keep up. Many of them would attend your wedding,  but they might as well be strangers now. Such was the way of your city. You get old and you lose your life. 

A subtle burn welled up behind your eyes as you rounded a dark corner and found the old crates you’d formed into a palace, untouched and frozen in time as the curling alleys of the city grew dusty from neglect. You stopped short at the sight, quickly snapping back to reality and darting away, running as fast as you could to get away. Left and right, you were reminded of how expansive these alleys really were, and how easy it was to get lost in them.

Not that you would ever get lost; you’d cling to your memories as long as possible. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was a surprise when instead of a dead end, you turned to find a long alley leading out to the market. The scent of the baker’s stall and sweet rolls being sold wafted down to you, providing a momentary calm—before that laugh broke it all down.

Creeping back around the corner, you waited for the laugh to stop, peering around to find that you weren’t alone. Near the mouth of the alley, a boy stood clutching his chest, laughter fading even as he glanced out onto the street. For just three whole seconds, you swore he was something out of a novel.

Pretty face  scarred on one side, but it didn’t make him any less to look at. Hair windswept despite the stillness, clothes ratty in some places and newly stitched up in others. Whoever he was, you’d never seen him before, so where exactly did he come from?

“Hey.” You blinked widely, realizing quite too late that you’d been caught. Locked in severe eye contact, you ever so slowly retreated back around the corner, flattening yourself against the wall. Maybe if you didn’t breathe, he’d think he hallucinated and walk away.

“Hey,” that boy said again, closer now. “What’re you doing?”

You didn’t make a sound, flush against the wall as if trying to disappear even when his face appeared in your peripheral. He blinked, waiting for you to do something. “Why’re you being so weird?”

“I, well…” You glanced around, anywhere but his face. “I was taking a walk.” You tensed up, held your breath, and blurted, “I don’t talk to strangers!”

You stared hard at the ground, hoping that he’d think you were crazy and walk away, but then the boy laughed at you. Gasping softly, you raised your head and gazed at him softly, lips parted slightly. Nobody had ever laughed at you before, at least not to your face like this boy, heaving as his chuckles faded. 

“You’re talking to me anyway.” He had you there. His eyes glinted despite the sun being obscured by the tall buildings. 

“I…”

He thrust out his hand suddenly. “I’m Luffy.” His hand, his face. His hand, his face. Your eyes darted back and forth until you finally settled on his hand. Dirty, that was the first thing you noticed, and then the callouses. You’d only seen hands like that on a sailor. 

You blinked back up at his face, locking in on his eyes. Sailors weren’t to be trusted. They took young girls’ hearts, along with something more personal, and set back off to sea. That’s what your mother said, but you had a feeling your mother had never seen someone like Luffy before. You’d never seen anyone like Luffy, so bright he could’ve been the sun itself. You took his hand quickly, shaking it firmly, and introduced yourself. 

Luffy chuckled. “Now I’m not a stranger.”

You couldn’t help but crack a grin. “I suppose not. Do you sail?”

“How’d you know?” Luffy tilted his head, leaning back on his heels, and you forgot how to speak. Luffy wasn’t too bad to look at. He was unlike any of the handsome boys you’d seen in court, sure, but that didn’t matter. Perhaps it endeared you more. Luffy, whoever he was, was different from everything you knew.

“You hands, I suppose. They’re like a sailors’.”

His laugh was odd, like a shi-shi-shi sound, prompting a stifled snort out of you as well. “Yep! I’m a pirate!”

Instantly, your whole face dropped, frozen in place. “Oh… that’s… something.”

Pirates were very different from regular sailors. They stole and pillaged and plundered and did many other terrible deeds. Your great-grandfather had been killed by a pirate… but you’d never known him. It’s all hearsay. Besides, Luffy didn’t look like he would ever think of maiming you. He looked like your next good friend, even if just for now. 

“Your crew is here, then?” you asked, moving to sit atop a set of crates along the wall. Luffy jumped as he followed, plopping in the dirt in front of you instead. 

“Mhmm. They’re… somewhere.” He snickered. “We just left Alabasta, y’know.”

You leaned forward to gawk at him. “So you saw what happened? With Crocodile? It was crazy.”

Again with that strange laugh of his. “Yep. I’m the one who beat his ass into the ground!”

“You—huh?” Tilting your head, his smile infected you, tugging at your lips. “So, you’re the savior of Alabasta? Not that marine?”

You sat in awe as he told you everything, going so far back that you learned exactly how he met Princess Vivi. By the end of an hour, you were on the edge of your seat, knees snug against your chest as Luffy described it all in grand detail. 

“Wow… that sounds amazing. Not the part where you nearly drowned in sand, but you know.” Resting your chin on your knees, “You must feel so… free out there.”

Luffy nodded quickly, eyes unfocused for a moment, staring at the unseen. “Yeah. It’s amazing.”

Your smile grew dim and melancholy. The bells of evening rang in the distance. “Thank you for telling me your story, Luffy. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged one shoulder, his expression one you could only call cute. “You wanted to know… what’re you so sad for?”

You hummed, startled. “I’m not sad.”

“Are too,” he said, eyes narrowed. “So what is it?”

For some time, you didn’t say another word. Luffy stood now, hands planted on either side of yours knees as he stared right at you. It wasn’t threatening or seductive, simply curious in a way you’d never witnessed. Like he truly wanted to know. And so, you told him.

“I’m getting married. Today.” You shut your eyes and grimaced. “And I don’t want to, but I have no choice.”

“So… don’t?”

You reeled back. “Did you not hear me? I have to.” Luffy only tilted his head as you scoffed at the sky. “My only choice is to comply with the path set before me. If I stray too far… I can’t stray too far.”

You hardly realized how angry you’d gotten till Luffy’s finger poked at your forehead once, twice, three times. You blinked slowly. “What?”

“I don’t really get it,” he said. “But you seem pretty sure.” He was right in your face, oblivious to the fluster rising in your face. And then he smiled a beaming smile. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“There you are!” A coil formed in the pit of your stomach, eyes slowly drifting to the mouth of the alley. The constable stalked toward you looking as relieved as he was pissed off. “Your mother’s been sending everyone out for you, miss. Have you lost your mind?”

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring how Luffy stared at you all perplexed-like. “I’ll… I was looking for some flowers for the parlor. Didn’t find a patch in bloom. I’ll head back now.”

The constable stepped forth, not yet noticing Luffy. He began to loom over you, and only when Luffy inched closer to your side did the constable’s gaze flicker to him. Disgust was the only word to describe how the constable looked at Luffy. “Let me escort you home, miss. Wouldn’t want you to lose your way again.”

You looked between the two of them nervously. “Of course, sir.” You stood from the crate and moved to follow the constable, hoping beyond hope Luffy would forget the entire ordeal, for his sake. The constable was going to forget all about your new friend, if only Luffy stayed quiet.

“Hey.” You tightened every muscle in your body. “Who’s she marrying anyway?”

The constable jerked to a stop, his deepset brow furrowing.

“Only the most powerful man around,” the constable replied very carefully, very calculated. He sized the boy up. “She’s very lucky to be marrying Mr. Toleson.”

“Let’s go, sir,” you insisted, daring to hook your arm through the constable’s and nearly drag him away. He dug his feet in. “Introduce me to your friend, miss.”

“He’s—he’s not my friend,” you blurted, eyes glued to the ground. “Sir, let us go. I’ve made us late enough. I have to prepare—”

Luffy took a daring step forward. “You shouldn’t have to marry someone if you don’t want to.”

The constable gritted is teeth, hand closing around your arm. “What would you know about what she wants?”

“Let’s go—”

“She doesn’t like this Tole guy,” Luffy persisted. Your eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn’t looking at you, sight set on the tall man beside you. “So she shouldn’t marry him. Tole-y can find someone who actually likes him if he’s so desperate—”

“Shut. Up.” Dangerous. Your tone was dangerous, wide glare moreso. Luffy silently eyed you, looking right through to your soul. “Goodbye. We have to go. Places to be. Come, Constable.”

Halfway turned, the constable kept one eye on your friend, feet slowly following after you—when Luffy reached out, grabbed your shoulder, and tried to tug you to his side. You whipped around to smack him, but your palm swiped at air. 

Luffy stood five feet back, his arm stretched beyond comprehension and latched onto your shoulder.

“What the…” Head foggy, you barely registered the click of a gun till it rose in your peripheral. Everything went by far too quickly, and suddenly you stared down the head of the constable’s pistol, gasping like you hadn’t a clue how you’d got there. 

“Get out of here, Luffy,” you ordered, not taking your stare off the constable. “I won’t say it again.”

He was gone when you finally chanced a look over your shoulder. The constable swiftly took your arm in a vice and led you onto the street, holstering his gun and muttering, “Street rats have no place here.”

“Sea dog,” you corrected absently, quite out of your own head. “He’s a pirate, so, sea dog.”

As if that would cease his endless muttering.

You were shut inside your house and shuffled away to a sunny parlor, tended to by maids you’d known since birth, their chattering unable to draw you out of your stupor as they powdered your face and tightened a corset round your waist till the room started spinning. 

Meanwhile, a pirate boy returned to his friends, not sparing their newly caught fish a second glance as he asked Robin if she’d heard anything about a wedding in the city. The archeologist grinned as if she knew precisely what had transpired in that alley, though she couldn’t possibly have.

At any rate, the notorious Straw Hat pirates now prepared to act on their captain’s whim, not one of them questioning when he said his “new friend” was in trouble.

જ ⁀ ➴

The carriage ride to the chapel was so you bumpy you were half convinced the driver did it on purpose. You sat wobbling from side to side, eyes glazed over, and you let your mind drift away—you became a specter, wandering blindly till you blinked, and you stood in a sunny side-room, waiting to be fetched for the altar.

Your arms like gooseskin, you peered into a spotless mirror despondently. Your hair was done up prettily, face caked in different powders and creams. The sickening scent of rose perfume surrounded on all sides. The dress fit nicely, not too tight, not too loose. Perfect. Not a thing was out of place.

It all set in at once; by the end of the hour you’d be Mrs. Toleman. Your mother would receive all the benefits, all the praise. She’d smile and really mean it. Your husband would be free from bankruptcy, your family’s massive inheritance given to him the moment you say, “I do.” You’d stand on his arm the rest of his life, the perfect ornament, so quiet and dull. 

An older woman fussed over the tears dotting your lashes, roughly swatting them away with her handkerchief, chastising you for such childishness. 

“If my daughter were in your position,” she said after nearly gauging your eye. “She’d be ecstatic.”

You gazed quite darkly. “Your daughter was in my position,” you whispered, causing her to freeze putting away her handkerchief. “I’m sure you recall her escaping to the circus very clearly.”

A sharp gasp. A drawn hand. Your mother stepped into the room, flustered beyond compare, and the maid resigned to fume quietly. You wished she would slap you. Perhaps the strike would redden your face so much that the whole thing was called off. 

“Well,” your mother exasperated, eyes raking down your form. “I hope you’re ready. Look pleasant.”

She weaved an arm through yours as a bouquet of lilies was shoved in your hands. A sneeze crawled up your nose and died as you held your breath, for the next moment you faced two long and full rows of people you’d never met and would never see again. 

Despite the petals and music and lovely weather, it felt very much like a funeral march. The empty faces of the guests chilled you to the bone, not one of them sparing even a grin. A few checked their watches. One boy tugged on a young girl’s pigtail, and the girl was swatted for disturbing the peace. A ginger girl fought with a green-haired male in one of the farther pews. Against the far wall a blonde caterer absently smoked a cigarette. Somewhere, a bird sounded like it was dying, crooning a sad song.

This damn city. These damn people. You’d die here, physically, spiritually, and mentally so. White hot panic welled up within you, but it was far too late to even think of darting for the door; you stood before your groom, gazing blankly into his chest.

You felt as if you were dying, a life so short flashing before your eyes as your hands were taken into the clammy grasp of Mr. Toleson. He wore no smile, no warmth upon his face. Only cold indifference. You hoped you looked the same, lest he spy your terror. 

The officiator droaned on meaningless words, warbled by your dazed mind. Only when your hands were squeezed harshly did you refocus, blinking widely.

Clearing his throat, the officiator shuffled uncomfortably. “Do you take this man to be your husband?”

Were you at this bit already? Heart thundering, you didn’t dare to look at Mr. Toleson, panicked gaze flickering to the now bated audience. Every eye stared at you, boring into you fiercely, only worsening your condition. 

“I…”

Mr. Toleson gripped you tightly, painfully. He gritted out just for you to hear, “You what? We haven’t got all day…”

“I–I…” A gulping breath. A flash of red ribbon and straw. Cutting your eyes across the room, you settled on a boy near the back of the pews, a grin emblazoned on his face. He caught your eye and held it fast. You hardly believed your eyes, yet understood in an instant.

“Miss,” said the officiator.

Luffy tilted his head, as if asking are we doing this? You chanced a flicker of a smile. 

You ripped your hands from Mr. Toleson’s sweaty grip, eyes wide and childish smile inching across your face as the room filled with sharp gasps. Gaze flickering up to Mr. Toleson’s aghast expression, you lurched back three, four, five steps till your heel met the edge of the raised platform. A hand settled on the small of your back as you slipped to the floor. The caterer planted his feet beside you, face grim as he gritted down on his cigarette. 

“Are you alright?” he muttered. You gave a quick nod.

The point of no return had come, and you’d taken the path once blocked by a landslide, the path you’d dismissed entirely just an hour ago. Your mother gasped your name, a hissed out word, drawing your gaze quickly. She was deathly pale, like she was about to be sick. No sympathy of yours rose to meet her, none at all, and the freedom of two words boomed from your chest. 

”I don’t!”

Silence. You heaved in a breath of air, and no one said a word. Like time had stood still.

Then a litheful, frightening laughter ripped through the church and everything sped up all at once. Mr. Toleson’s face rivaled the ripest of tomatoes. 

“Why… you…” He hadn’t so much as taken a step when the caterer whirled around and kicked him right in the chest. Only when he blew his hair out of his face and stomped out his cigarette, looking like he’d done this twelve hundred times before, that you started to think he wasn’t a caterer at all. 

“I’ve seen you before,” you thought aloud. Chaos erupted all around, guests rising from their chairs in a panic, and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “Oh! You were at the pond!”

Sanji, that was his name. He dodged a punch from one of the quicker groomsmen, an easy smile on his face. He faced you then, hands shoved in his pockets. “That’s your priority, love?”

You flushed, whether from the tease or endearment, you didn’t know. “Well—”

“You!” your mother’s shrill voice cut the air. You turned just in time to catch her pouncing at you, her hand clawing for your arm. Her nails barely got close to scratching you when a hand branched out of her chest and drove her back by a vice around her neck. Somebody screamed as guests began a mad rush to escape the inevitable fight; everyone had the same guess—pirates.

You’d never been so happy, even with the disembodied hand issue.

Mr. Toleson rose to his feet, nursing his chest, his eyes aflame. He whirled in the groomsmen. “Don’t just stand there!”

The men broke out of their daze. The constable shook himself out of his shock as several other burly men of the town shouted angrily. You inched backward as dozens of eyes settled on you, heart quickening, when that ginger girl from before rushed up with a bow staff and gave several men severe head trauma. The green haired man drew three swords out of nowhere. That other man from the pond jumped over a pew, a slingshot in hand. And a tall, graceful woman stared down your petrified mother. 

Only those willing to put up a fight were left, leaving only the rougher men of the town and the pirates of your friend Luffy. 

Sanji flung an attacker off his back and sent the guy flying your way, wiping the smile from your face as you yelped and dodged. You scurried off to the side, nearly tripping head over heels in your dress, having to hike up your skirts as you twirled in and out of the swiftly rising rabble.

Luffy’s marksman remained unscathed at his vantage point, lining up a shot and letting it fly. You gasped delightfully when the constable was nailed right in the forehead and hit the floor unconscious. From your place flush against the wall, you beamed at the destruction.

Pews turned to splinters under the power of the swordsman. Refreshments scattered across the floor as the ginger was thrown into a table and jumped back up again. Flowers fluttered around as the raven haired woman used some kind of magic to extend her reach. And Luffy—he laughed through it all. People jumped at him with fists and clubs, yet he threw them all off like it was nothing. Perhaps to him it was.

You stifled another smile behind your hands. The people of your town were absolutely demolished by these pirates. These glorious, heroic pirates you would be thanking for the rest of your life—

“You did this.” In an instant your wrists were captured by your ex-fiancee. “Witch. Where’d you get the money to pay them, huh?”

“Let go,” you bit back, jerking away only for his hold to tighten, prepared for your escape this time. 

He yanked you closer. “After everything I’ve done for your family—” 

You spat in his eyes and kneed his crotch, watching satisfied as he crumbled to the floor. “Family my ass.”

You darted into the chaos without another word. Men lay unconscious every few steps, their bloody and bruised faces staring up at you. You tripped over someone’s leg, growled sharply, and took hold of your skirts. One by one you ripped off the layers of tulle, leaving you in your knee-length bloomers, dress reduced to the lacy bodice and shreds of fabric at your hips. Finally you yanked your heels off, hopping on one foot and then the other. 

Right as you were about to drop your left shoe, the man of honor, some guy called Henry, made for you swiftly. Gasping, you gripped the toe of the heel and clubbed him over the head.

Someone grabbed your shoulder a second later. You shrieked and dropped to the ground, slipping out of the grip and rolling to the side. The swordsman appeared suddenly and cut the man down in one move. The body dropped beside you. You blinked, gasped, and let a delayed scream flee your lips. The swordsman reached to grab your wrist and hoisted you to your feet. “You okay?”

“Y-you killed him!” you cried.

“Relax,” he rolled his eyes. “I hit him with the hilt.”

Sure enough, the man only had a gash on his temple and some head trauma most likely. The swordsman looked you up and down briefly. “Watch out for the ero-cook lookin’ like that.”

You hardly cared if you looked indecent. “Where’s Luffy?”

He didn't get to answer—a laugh you quickly grew to recognize had you whipping around, eyes peeled. 

His profile shone in the evening light bleeding from the windows. He stood with his head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, a blinding smile on his face. Transfixed, you wondered, not for the last time, if he was more than human.

When his laughter died down Luffy held his fists close to his chest and looked around as if searching for another fight, his gaze finding you. Your heart skipped, but his smile dropped deathly fast. You didn’t have the chance to wonder before his fist zipped a hair's breadth away from your cheek. You hit the ground instantly, head ducked between your knees. You might have remained there forever, wondering just what possessed him, if you were stupid for trusting him, overwhelmed by something akin to heartbreak—when two sandaled feet entered your sight.

“Hey,” he said, giving you deja vu. “What’re you doin’ on the floor?”

Eyes wider chest heaving, you sprang to your feet and got nose to nose with him. Luffy merely blinked widely, unfazed. “What’s wrong with you!? First, you help me, then you try to hit me! Why—Don’t touch me!” 

He gripped your shoulders and spun you around in one fluid motion. All your sputtering got caught in your throat. Two feet away Mr. Toleson lay flat on his back with the worst bloody nose you’d ever seen. 

One. Two…

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. Ugly laughed. Louder and more all-consuming than you ever had before. You tried to choke on it, only making the sound sizzle into harsh snickers. 

Luffy felt like he was in a trance, watching you dazedly as he broke into his own fit of laughter.

“Gah!” Your mother bolted for the door, throwing a fretful glance over her shoulder. She paused, wove around a man limping for the exit, and dragged Mr. Toleson to his feet. Coughing, your would-be fiancée set his grim sights on Luffy. Your mother tugged him with her, more forceful now. “Come. She isn’t worth your life.”

Really, it shouldn’t have bothered you. She’d never done anything for you, yet—her words struck you oddly, fiercely. They were gone before you recovered. You glanced around at a loss as Luffy stood a strong pillar in your peripheral. Your eyes darted to meet him as the final pieces of your world crumbled to dust, and you found nothing but cool assurance; you sighed out a breath you’d been holding since you were ten. 

“Good riddance,” you choked. Luffy’s lips ticked up in a smile. The figures of his friends came into focus as they gathered around in the wreckage of the church. Emotion tingled in every corner of your body. “Thank you, all of you. I’m… forever in your debt.”

That wasn’t all you wished to express by far. You’d been thinking it the whole while, perhaps even from the first moment you learned he was a pirate. The request teetered precariously on the tip of your tongue when the caterer cut you off.

“No need, madam,” he said with a flourish of his wrist. “Always a pleasure to assist.”

His eyes took you in gratefully, and he was quick to wipe away the small bit of blood leaving his nose. You grinned, almost grimacing, and gave an awkward laugh. “Of course…” Luffy’s shoulder brushed your own, drawing your gaze to him. His bright eyes had you wanting to reach up and brush his messy hair out of his face. Somehow, you refrained. “Just what kind of pirates are you? I didn’t think your lot were in the business of wedding crashing.”

Luffy shrugged his shoulders, barely smiling as he replied, “I like you.”

You choked on nothing. “Well—that’s—indeed.”

The silence of the room, only some harsh breaths breaking it, had you questioning what came next. Your adrenaline crashed all at once as your eyes got heavy and your shoulders sagged all at once. You rubbed at your eyes and suppressed a yawn, shivering as a breeze drifted by. 

The ginger girl noticed the change at once, moving to your side despite her own exhaustion. “Let’s get you cleaned up. That can’t be comfortable.”

For some reason, you didn’t jerk away from her touch, so gentle and kind as she took your arm. “Yeah. Uhm, I can go to my servants’ quarters. They won’t say anything…”

The girl scoffed, catching your eye. “No way. You’re going to our ship.” She blanched a second later, backtracking. “If that’s okay with you.”

You watched for any sign of falsehood, and found none at all. You shook your head quickly. “No, that’s fine. Can we go now?”

The girl—Nami, you later learned—giggled and swiftly ushered you out of the wreckage and into the sun. You gave a soft laugh of your own, still very reserved yet filled with the tentativeness of someone realizing that everything would be okay. 

And Luffy watched you leave, his lips tugging upwards subconsciously. He stood solidly as each of his friends followed after you, till only Robin remained. She had her arms crossed, head tilted low and eyes scrutinizing. She took in Luffy’s stance, his twitchy fingers, his eyes transfixed on empty space. All usual features on her friend; it was his dopey grin that gave it all away.

“Captain,” Robin spoke. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded. He didn’t even stutter, his reply instant. “Why?”

She nearly chuckled, holding back if only to humor him. She nudged his shoulder with her own to spur him into motion, and the pair walked slowly into the streets. 

“What do you know about your new friend?” she asked as they passed under a bakery sign squeaky as it swung with the wind. 

He paused. “She’s fancy… and unhappy.” Luffy kicked a pebble and watched it skip all the way to the end of the sloped path. “Very unhappy. She’ll be happier with us.”

Robin’s heart went tender as she looked away, hiding a smirk. “Have you told her that?”

Catching her eye, Luffy smiled. “She knows.”

They caught up enough to spy the others as Usopp and Nami had their arms around your shoulders, bickering absently whilst you snickered quietly between them. Robin nodded, for who was she to argue? Besides, maybe you did. The smile on your face may have betrayed just that.

જ ⁀ ➴

You still heard the boisterous laughter of your new friends even as you swept away from the galley, heart beating a little too fast to be comfortable. They were amazing, sure, but overwhelming at best. All you needed was a moment and you could return unnoticed to the good food and warm company. As soon as you got some air.

You instinctively reached to pick up a skirt as you rose the stairs to the deck, only to grab at air, look down, and grin at the sight of Nami’s brown trousers. 

The cool night breeze hit you like a wall the moment you stepped outside, shooting shivers down your spine. The saltiness of the sea clung to your skin and clumped in your hair, filling your nose with every deep breath of air. 

The deck felt odd against your bare feet, grating against your skin just enough to make you wary of splinters despite the apparent fine craftsmanship of the wood. You leaned into the ship rail and gazed down upon the rolling waters. A soft and steady kussshhh kussshhh greeted you, a gentle sea spray kissing your cheeks.

So far, the sea was far greater than you’d ever conceived. Freedom rippled in every gust of wind billowing in the sails; the waves sang songs of grandauer; the stars winked secrets you couldn’t hear but felt in the creak of your bones. The music of the world had finally included you in its symphony, and you would never go back. 

Never.

You heard him before you saw him, his bumbling, careless steps thumping against the deck. Luffy came up out of the belly of the ship, gazed around once, and settled his sights on you. You met eyes and simply existed; he smiled first; you returned a grin. Luffy approached with all the familiarity he shouldn’t have given you in such a short time. 

“You disappeared,” he said too loudly, threatening to break the perfect silence settled around you. 

“I did,” you whispered back. After pursing your lips, you turned back to the sea and waited, assuming he would take the hint. It took two seconds longer than you anticipated, but Luffy’s shoulder soon bumped against your own. 

When he spoke again, he was softer, “How do you feel?”

You sucked in a lunfull of cold air and laughed it out. “Free. I didn’t think I’d ever feel like that again.”

He nodded, because he wanted to say so many things but at the same time had no clue what to say at all. Luffy had never experienced this before, being at a loss for words; all evening he’d dwelled in this confusion that only grew every time you smiled and he lost his breath. What was so different about you that all his words felt terribly redundant? 

“Wow.” He turned his head quickly, blinking at you. You were already looking right at him. 

“Huh?”

You shook your head, shy smile dripping in tease. “You’re quiet. I didn’t take you as someone to just dwell like this.”

How many minutes had passed? Luffy wasn’t sure, but you looked content, so he didn’t really care. His eyes danced all over your face, puzzlement laid in his brow. You tilted your head and began to worry about the cloudy look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” you said. Luffy gave a wordless nod, still looking so lost. You wanted to touch him, the realization setting in suddenly, hand itching to grip his arm. “Why did you help me? You didn’t have to.” Crossing your arms, you turned to watch the curling white foam ripple off the ship. “It certainly made things harder for you. They might tell the Navy, and I can imagine that’s plain hell.”

“They won’t catch us,” he scoffed, catching your eye. “And like I said, I like you.”

Your lips pursed before you let slip a chuckle, face far too warm for your liking. He probably didn’t know what he was saying. “Right. How could I forget. Is that all?”

“You’re… funny.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Real funny. Odd. Makes me feel funny.” He said it with such nonchalance you wondered if he was joking, but the longer you stood and stared at your feet the more aware you were of his presence at your side. Finally, you lifted your head, finding him staring out to sea. He was one to talk about being odd. You hardly understood what was so odd about you; you felt fairly normal if you said so yourself—but that wasn’t exactly the point. 

Because Luffy was confused after all, just like he looked to be. The conflicted boy never strayed far from your shoulder, his hand brushing yours every few seconds. You hardly knew him—you didn’t know him—yet you couldn’t deny the overwhelming trust clawing its way into your heart. 

So, really, there wasn’t much more debate on whether you should ask. 

“Let me stay.” “Join my crew.”

The pair of you whipped your heads around suddenly. Eyes wide, you smiled, bursting into laughter with him, leaning into his side so he was half holding you up, your forehead hitting his chest—you missed hugs, sighing deeply as his warm hands brushed your skin and—

Cold rushed up your spine. You jerked away, an apology on your lips, when Luffy grunted and reeled you back in. You hit his chest with a thump as his arms wrapped around you three times. Eyes wide, body stiff, his deep breathing enveloped you till all you heard was in and out, in and out, that steady yet unsure rhythm. 

“I’d like to join your crew,” you said after a while. 

He focused on the space ahead of him, hold loosening bit by bit. “I’d like you to stay.”

You pulled away, and this time he let you. “Somehow, I feel I’m making a grave mistake.” He tilted his head all puppy-like, so you reveled in his puzzlement. Spinning out of his arms you faced the sea again. “You’ll most likely get me killed, Captain.”

Luffy blinked rapidly, heart thuding at the sly grin planted on your profile. Captain. He liked that. He always did, but now especially—when it came from you. 

“I won’t let that happen,” he said with such casualty. He stepped into your line of sight. “You do want to stay, don’t you?”

As if you had a choice, you mused. Even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t change a thing in your eyes. You smiled softly at him, a spark of wild excitement in your eyes. “More than anything.”

It started small, only a grin until it grew too wide to remain shut, his teeth shining seconds later. His eyes squinted, head thrown back, and you swore his laugh echoed to the very depths of the sea, encircling your whole being.

He fascinated you, filling you with this sense of freedom you’d never known before. Luffy was larger than life, and you stood there to witness his existence. Somehow, even then, you understood the gravity of who he would become. 

What an odd pair the two of you made. Him so unrestrained and you so proper—though surely the longer you spent with him the less true that became. Neither of you really cared either way; you found the other wildly fascinating, and in that moment on the deck as he blinded you with his smile, that’s really all that mattered.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @kryscent

Hellooo I really like your works especially the alnst ones!! ><, so can I request a Ivan, Luka, and Till x Anemic!s/o?? and could you make hcs and scenarios for each one? Tysmm! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

⋆·˚ ༘ *╰┈➤ ❝Dont fall if it isnt for me!!❞

♡ Ivan, Till, Luka x Anemic!Reader -> Gn Reader, fluff, headcanons + small scenario, the alien of Reader is implied to be abusive

↳ Till is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ Poor baby is always keeping an eye on you because he cant stand the thought of you fainting :(

♡ At first, he thought the reason you were so pale and cold all the time was that your guardian probably kept you caged up— he wasnt entirely wrong, that was true but it was also because you were anemic!

♡ Once he finds out? He acts calm, but in the inside he is 24/7 trying to take care of you, more if you two are still on ANAKT GARDEN

♡ He will ask you to keep your trainings easy and calm, would give you part of his food even if he recieves barely anything and would try to take naps with you if you ever felt tired (practically always)

♡ Anyways, Till isnt too sure how to help out with your anemia, but he'll be at your side! -> Literally would throw hands with the aliens for you if they are exploiting you while you feel dizzy

"Reader..."

Till called you while he watched you practice, he already told you to take it easy three times but yet you continued dancing and singing— you felt out of yourself by now but if you didnt learn this choreo, you didnt want to know what your guardian could do to you...

"N-not now Till, i have to learn this" - You say with a shaky breath trying to focus even if your gaze was blurry and your heart was starting to beat faster.

Till, letting out a frustrated sigh, finally stood up from where he was sitting. - "Stop being dense, I dont want you to—" - Before he could finish his lecture, you tripped, your vision going pitch black for a moment. He was quick to catch you, even as you practically fell into him

You two were on the floor for a moment, your head resting in Till's shoulder until his shaky hand decided to caress your hair finally— with a sigh, he tried to calm the red from his face while you leaved a small laugh, even if you felt tired he kept you close and that made you happy, deciding to finally hear his lecture.

"Youre so stupid...atleast rest like this a moment, alright? I'll protect you from your guardian if he acts like a dumbass...i promise."

↳ Ivan is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ This boy is always analyzing you, so that means the moment he knows you have anemia, is the moment he tried to find books about it

♡ He would try EVERYTHING to make your situation better. Bad diet? Yeah, you can have his, he always gets good food. Lack of sun? He would try to get you out and get some with the excuse of doing photoshoots or something!

♡ If you ever felt tired (most of the time better said) he is the first one to make you sit down and rest while talking nonstop the symptoms of anemia so you stay still

♡ He cuddles you a lot! If you feel embarassed of always being cold, no worries— i think he is just as cold as you are! So seek warm together <3

♡ Your personal reminder to take care of you, literally everyday he will try his best for you to feel better! And you better listen to him, because if you're overworking yourself instead of paying attention to him, he'll just drag you to rest.

"Okaay, so you eated good today! We can have a little break and then i can help you practice your vocals on that song—" - Ivan was interrupted by you standing abruptly, but he kept that smile that showed his fang always

"No, i should train now and uhh..." - You tried to end the sentence, but standing quickly got consequences for you, making the dizziness appear while your gaze stumbled

Ivan noticed and just leaved a small laugh, even if he heard your grumbles, he made you climb onto his back so you could rest while he walked

"C'monn, lets rest a little and then i'll help you practice, you have to hear me you know! Just...dont throw on me"

With that being said, Ivan dragged you against a tree, hoping the artificial sun of ANAKT GARDEN would help you while he hummed your song, talking about how pretty it would sound once you sang it.

↳ Luka is the type to… ༉‧₊˚✧

♡ Poor baby is so head over heels for you that he thought for a moment that maybe giving his blood to you would help :( Like, when you two were childs, he hitted his mouth thinking that blood would help you

♡ Listen, he has tons of things to check his health state too. He would try to see if any of them could help you

♡ Even if you had clones, he isnt letting you go. So, with his little knowledge from books, he would start taking care of you even if its pretty harsh or indirect with his lectures ♡ Would try to share his food with you, fails successfully because his ass is a big eater. Still, he always tries to make sure you're eating well, and when you dont, he'll call you out on it. If its because the aliens dont give you enough? He'd let you bite him to calm the hunger

♡ He isnt the most healthy person either, so he understands you when youre tired or dizzy. He was always forced to continue training even when he feels like that, but for you he'd force you to take it easy "Lukaaa...c'mon we have to learn this or else were gonna fail the collab!" - You say crossing your arms while Luka gazed boredly at you Even if you felt a little dizzy by now, your guardian managed to get you a collab with Luka! An important event since he was known as the ruler of the stage. The bad thing for both of you? it counted with a choreo and you urged to learn it well to not be punished for a mistake during the collab, even if it meant overworking yourself.

Luka sighed, standing up and putting his hands on your shoulders - "Dont be stupid, i know you didnt have a big meal today and by the look of your eyes youre kinda dizzy, arent you? Im giving you the chance to rest, just take it." Seeing the small guilt and worry in your averted gaze made him feel something— you always make him feel something, dont you? He sighed again, rolling his eyes as he took your wrist, guiding you towards his messy room, filled with things for his health and papers all over the floor. With a swift move, he managed to lay you on his bed, and without hesitation, he joined you, hugging you close, his head resting on your shoulder without thinking too much about it "Stay here— you dont want to faint, do you? So use your head for a moment and cuddle with me..."

You sighed, letting him win the argument as always as you resigned to caress his hair. Maybe you can train later, now you have a new task in hand— that a sleepy Luka doesnt end up confusing you for something sweet and bitting you!

to teach a captain - part 3 (luffy x reader 18+ fanfic)

summary: “You want to kiss, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you. You could only respond with one thing: "So, what if I do?"

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, sexual content, masturbation, kissing, luffy is a curious guy, reader is a member of the straw hat crew, post-time skip, second-hand embarrassment, no spoilers, no use of y/n

A/n: the ao3 crowd waited half a year for me to post this part, so parts after this will chug along slowly, just wanted to warn you ahead of time! hopefully the length of this helps. posted on ao3 here

words: 8.1k (very long, whoops)

--------------------------

The rest of the night went as follows.

Chopper finally catches up to you after the crew settles into the Sunny. His chipperness never faltered when you tell him you feel better than earlier. Still, he insisted on a late-night check-up. Other than an elevated heartbeat, he gave you a clean bill of health and sent you on your way. 

You took a peak in the small bag Robin gave you, largely ignoring Nami’s. You softly grimace, seeing the new bottle of lube lying on top of the other shopping list of things you ask her to get beforehand.

You couldn't go to sleep for the better half of the night. Every time you thought of what transpired only a few hours ago, your breathing started getting heavy, your mind was racing, and you just felt like squealing. 

It was half past four when you finally went to sleep. You don’t particularly enjoy sleeping in, but when you woke up this morning and saw the time read past 11 am, you welcomed it…

…Up until you realized why exactly you slept in so late.

After a fresh change of clothes, you reluctantly get on deck. As you feel the smooth wooden planks of the Sunny under your feet, you’re overcome with an increasing perplexion. 

The Sunny is still at the dock of Tashini. If we had followed Nami’s schedule she set yesterday, we would’ve left in the early morning. Tashini would’ve been a small dot across the horizon at this point. 

You feel an even deeper pit of your stomach spiral when you see no sign of life, which means everybody’s gathered in the kitchen and dining room, currently having lunch. Alongside your crewmates, smack dab in the middle, will be Luffy.

Your heart thumps as you reach the door to the dining room, swinging it open like usual. The Straw Hat crew sits around the table, collectively turning to the archway when they see you. All have a smile on their face and a greeting on their tongue. Sanji, once setting a big platter of shrimp scampi in the middle of the crowded table, frolics over to you and sings your name.

“Ahh angel, you’re awake,” he sings. “Just in time for lunch.”

You greet him like usual, running your eyes over Nakama until your body erupts in butterflies again.

Your eyes meet Luffy’s, feeling your heart crack against your chest at the immediate eye contact. He gives you a toothy grin. 

“Good morning!” Luffy says. Before you can stutter out a response, Ussop pipes up.

“Hey, now.” Nami points at you. “You’re not wearing any of the new stuff I gave you.” She gives you a playful frown.

“Ah, sorry about that, it was a long night last night,” You sigh, purposefully trying to divert Luffy’s eyes. “Chopper, said I’m fine at least. Speaking of which, why are we still at dock?”

“Well, I may have a surprise waiting for everybody, I was just waiting for the last person to join us.”

You nod, going to take a seat. Brook tells you to sit down next to him and Chopper, playfully tapping an empty spot at the table. Chopper smiles at you, glad you look better than last night. 

“Aaand with that, everybody’s here!” Nami says, paper in hand. “Time to announce the next island and lookout parties for tonight…”

While Nami is talking off the paper she has in her hands, you settle down and join in on digging into the beautiful array of dishes. There’s fluffy white rice, shrimp scampi with a fragrant green sauce, lovely cut fruits that Sanji got from Tashini, and more meat to compliment Luffy’s hungry appetite. White rice is the first thing you go for, feeling the squishy texture as soon as you dig into it. 

“That means our next destination will be Dracon. Now,–”

“Dracon?” The word comes out before you have the chance to think about it. You pause, letting your fork drop some rice you just dished out. You try to clean up the mess without anyone noticing.

Nami, including the others, turn to you. “Yes, do you know it?” The navigator asks.

“Oh, ah.” You search your brain, trying to come up with an explanation for your reaction. “I’m not sure, it’s been a while since… working for my home country.”

“From what you’ve told us, you used to be a diplomat before, yes?” Robin asks from across the table. You nod.

“I had to travel a lot, and there are islands I remember going to, but I don’t quite recall visiting Dracon. I’m not sure—at least, I have no memories of the name in terms of my diplomatic work,” You shrug unassuredly.

“I’ll keep note of that,” Nami states, scribbling something down.

Nami moves on to some unrelated housekeeping items, though something feels so familiar that you can’t shrug it off. You feel off about the whole thing, yet not enough to notify the crew.

Now, you feel a pair of eyes on you from across the table. They’re soft in their demeanor, yet concerned in your sudden tenseness. You look over to them, to see Luffy with his head slightly tilted. He’s looking straight back at you while shoving a slab of meat in his mouth. You can’t find it in yourself to look away at his calming face, but all you remember is Luffy panting, pleading with you as his hand found purchase on your shoulder, face so close to yours as he moaned–

“Uhh, excuse me…” Brook nudges your arm, making you snap forward and see Nami leaning over the table, waving her hand in front of your face. 

“Hey, are you listening?” She asks.

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, uh…” You cringe, “what was that again?”

Nami sighs, slapping your head with the rolled-up paper from across the table.

“You and Luffy will be on watch for the first shift tonight. Make sure to wake up Zoro and Sanji for the shift after, okay?”

“R-right, got it.” You nod, hoping the heat from your face isn’t noticeable.

“You got that, Luffy?” Nami turns to Luffy now, chunks of ham disappearing from his hand into his mouth. Luffy manages to say a jumbled yup between food scarfs.

“I can’t believe you paired me up with brow-for-brains, Nami.” Zoro scoffs, digging into his next bite. You all look to Sanji, or well, where he used to be. He’s now standing over Zoro with a menacing figure.

“Shut it, mosshead. Don’t blame Nami for your incompetence.”

“Huh?!” 

Ussop makes a point to sigh loudly, muttering something about “some weaklings will never learn,” whatever that means in Ussop-speak.

Before a fight breaks out at the dinner table, Nami gives a threatening scowl that separates the two.

“I will reiterate this as I did with a few of you earlier: As you know, we were meant to set sail this morning to the next island. How ever,” Nami says with a smirk, “I thought it would be a nice change of pace for all of us to go to a theater tonight, and then set sail after.”

“A theater? What’s that, a game?” Zoro raises an eyebrow. 

From the other side of the room, Sanji loudly sighs “ Idiot ,” causing the pair to grit their teeth at each other like wild animals. At this point, they are too caught up with each other to pay attention to the conversation.

“I’ve heard of that,” Franky says, “Isn’t that where people perform a story on a stage?” 

Robin nods. “It’s not something you see around the sea often.”

“How inspiring,” Brook gleams next to you. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about.”

“I’m guessing we’ll have immunity there?” Jimbei asks.

Nami nods, “With a bit of persuasion, I was able to get a personal booth at the top of the theater with a promise that we’ll be protected as long as we don’t do anything.

“Her ‘persuasion’ was swooning the staff that we ran into while shopping last night.” Robin chimes in, causing Nami to smirk in triumph. 

“Hey, a cheap meal and show is a steal.” Nami counters. “I spent a quarter of what I spent on our girl’s new wardrobe on this opportunity, and that’s even with the bargaining I had to do.”

You choke on your glass of water hearing Nami’s words.

“How much did you spend on me?!”

“As long as you wear them, you don’t need to know,” Nami assures you with a sly grin. “Giving you a good sense of fashion is payment enough.”

A guttural groan comes out of you as you shake your head.

“I will, I will. Just— please don’t charge me this time.” You say to Nami, who seems to grant you mercy with a nod.

The crew laughs at your exchange. Ussop is yakking it up to Jinbei and Franky about how he used to be a “connoisseur of theater” in his day. At the end of the table, Luffy waves his hand to flag Sanji.

“More please!”

–

Nami instructed everyone to dress accordingly for the play. To be honest, you didn’t know what to wear until after looking in the clothing bag she gave you. Maybe you shouldn’t have, because you find a dress inside that works almost too well for tonight. 

“Perfect, it’s the one I picked,” Nami says when you shimmy it on. She and Robin have already gotten ready, Robin has now gone to join the others on deck.

“You planned this?” You’re surprised as you look at her through the girls’ mirror. You had just finished zipping up the deep rouge silk dress. There was ruching in the bodice that gave your silhouette more form than you’re used to seeing, hem peaking right above your knees. 

She makes her way to the dresser where you’re sitting. “You should appreciate a good dress more than once in a while. We always have plenty of days besides celebrations to wear them, after all.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You think about it. Robin and Nami always outdo you in style, probably because they treat every day like a fashion statement.

“You look sexy in a shirt and pants anyway.” Nami makes a dumb kissy face as you giggle and push her off. She beckons you to the door. “C’mon, everybody’s waiting.”

When you leave the girls’ dorm, you can see everybody has cleaned up rather nicely. Sanji his usual suave attire, Robin and Nami are dressed to the nines, and each of the others has a flare of fashion. 

Thump. Thump.

Luffy was no different. He wears a black tie and crisp red dress shirt tucked into belted slacks. The dress shirt was slightly pulled up because of his goofing off with Ussop and Chopper. Chopper is on his head doing birdarms as Luffy runs around the dock. Ussop chimes in with an airy bird call that dies out pretty quickly.

Everybody turns around to you and Nami when she closes the door behind her. You hear an ‘ooooo’ around some of the crew as Ussop wolf-whistles.

“You ladies look so lovely!” Sanji cries.

“Ah, my, you’re a charmer,” Brook says to you, bowing deeply. “It would be such an honor to see your p–” Yup, you’re tuning that out.

“Hah! I think the girls super outdid us again.” Franky laughs as he poses. Jinbei seems to nod in agreement.

You blush at their compliments, seeing Chopper and Luffy now turn to look at you. Luffy is the only one not smiling, mouth agape and it makes you a little sad to see. If you wanted anyone to smile, you would’ve wanted it to be him.

“Our girl finally gets to dress, am I right? Now, I think that’s everyone!” Nami comments to the group, “Let’s head out!”

You arrive at a large building bustling with people under a tall hall archway. The whole inside seems illuminated in a soft yellow glow, with torches decorating the exterior walls. Nami and Robin led the pack to a side door, where a group of staff were waiting for you all. You’re briskly taken to a private entrance. It leads to a modest open room with a wide U-shaped booth that spans to either side of the wall, a large tray full of decadent foods in the middle, and an open window that showcases the lowered, grand stage a hundred feet away.

Everybody seems pleased to sit down and get situated, especially Luffy. He takes the part of the booth closer to the open space, objectively a great view, as the rest of you file in. He digs into the trays of complimentary food before you even think to sit.

You end up sitting next to Zoro and Jinbei on either side of you, pleased to be within arms reach of some fresh fruit on the tray. It doesn’t take long for the stage lights to dim and for the show to start. 

It ends up being a fairly detailed story about a knight and his quest to save the heroine, a fellow knight, after they got separated in a battle between countries. There is plenty of humor that the audience and the crew laugh along to. At one point, the knight has to dress as a stuffy aristocrat to pass into the country that captured her and prepare for her execution. Usopp had cheered especially at this as everybody laughed it up. Just before she was scheduled to be beheaded, the hero stepped in and acted as a country nobleman turned war veteran, using his many past achievements of slaying warlocks and beasts to convince the guardsmen to release her. They end up running away on horseback to the country they fought for. Once unsaddled, the heroine finally confronts him.

“You… you came to save me?” The heroine asks, tears laddled in her eyes, almost in disbelief at the hero, her friend’s, bravery. “Why would you do something so risky?”

“I can’t be on the battlefield without you.” The hero falls to the ground to kneel in front of her, taking her hands into his and looking deeply into her eyes. “Won’t you be mine, my knightess?”

“You stupid man. Is that even a question?” She cries out, running into his arms.

They lovingly embrace after the crowd cheers, many of the Straw Hats whooping in celebration. You’re almost thankful you didn’t sit near Franky, as you could practically hear him sob out into a snotty, rather tear-packed mess. You almost feel bad to see Chopper is in his range of fire.

When they finally pull away from each other, the hero steps towards the heroine once more, taking her head in her hands and kissing her passionately. Her arms wrapped around him after a moment of surprise at the gesture, letting him dip her into a warm, lingering hold. Your heart flits at the sight as you join the audience’s cheers and awes. 

Amidst the loud celebration, you realize the scene before you feel reminiscent. As the pair kiss on stage, you think of how you were in a similar position with Luffy not long ago, tasting his lips. Though, the fashion you two were in was more… sensual. Your face flares up. 

You turn to the other side of the room. Luffy’s shadow is clear in the illumination of theater lights, and you see his figure shift as he raises his arm. He lifts his fingers up to his face in what you could only think of as… a yawn? Maybe boredom?

No. He touches his lips softly, grazing them along the skin before looking down at them with curiosity.

You turn away quickly when you notice his head swivel, spinning around the crew members until he stops at you. A pair of eyes is now settled in your direction as you feel your heart pick up speed. You felt him stare at you between the food platters now littered with bones and stems, before the crew joined the audience in a standing ovation. You tuck yourself away from Luffy’s averting eyes as you stand behind Jinbei, shortly overshadowed by every pair of hands now erupting in applause. You clap extra loud, hooked onto the stage to watch the start of the curtain call. When you finally feel the courage to look amongst the crew, you feel the absence of a few eyes that turn back to the stage.

The crew ends the night as normal with a round of drinks before slowly filing out of the theater and towards the ship. You pace alongside Franky, Robin, and Nami. Franky has his robust arm around Robin, laughing along while Nami and you talk about the wonderful experience. Before your mind filters out the thoughts of earlier, a pair of rubbery arms snaps behind you all before Luffy’s figure catapults to the ship at the dock.

–

Nervous blood bubbles in your veins when you’re on your watch shift. 

From the crow's nest at the top of the mast. The saltiness of the ocean breeze isn’t as apparent on the shoreline, but you still smell the tanginess of ocean algae mixed with the earthy scents of the sandy dock. 

You’ve been glancing every so often towards the rear of the ship, wondering when you’ll be able to spot Luffy’s black, messy hair walking along the deck under the moonlight. Maybe he’s tucked at the rear, but it’s hard to tell from the top of the mast without craning your head. You’re not brave enough to check in detail at this point. 

While you think about your watch shift partner that gets more and more late, you think about what else was said around that dinner table.

Earlier, Nami announced the next stop is Dracon, an island that sounds too familiar to be a coincidence. You’ve been to a lot of places in your life before joining the Strawhats, but it’s been so long since that you're not exactly sure. If your home country had any notable affairs with them, surely you would’ve remembered dealing with it. The question was, was it positive affairs, or would you have trouble soon? You don’t have a good feeling about that name, even if you wish for the former. 

“Sorry, I’m late!”

Turning around, you’re met with your smiley captain, his grin upturned ear-to-ear. You look to the moon, and judging from the position, it seems that…

“An hour late, Luffy. And you didn’t change out of those clothes.”

Luffy smiles in response. His tie is undone, hanging around his neck as one side threatens to slip off. The deep red button-up shirt is now completely untucked, hanging loosely past his hips. Some of the top buttons are now undone and loosely shifting under the chilled breeze. His hat is hanging by the string around his neck, resting quietly on his back.

“Sorry.” He doesn't look that sorry.

“It’s fine,” you waved him off, “nothing suspicious happened out here.” Unsurprisingly, not many people dare to approach the infamous Thousand Sunny. Certainly, no one is strong enough to succeed in plunder, anyway.

You look at him again after a moment, heart thumping when you see he’s not moving to climb out of the crow's nest.

“You can go to your lookout now.” When you try to casually say that, your nervous shift practically blows your cover, though you're not sure if it’s noticed.

Luffy hums a noncommittal sound as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I wanna stay.”

“Why?” 

He shrugs, pouting his lip a little at the question. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Fine,” You conceded. It wouldn't be the first time Luffy would bend the rules during watch. “Let’s at least watch the nest to cover ground.”

Luffy nods, following your step as you start walking around the edge of the nest by each window, looking out for any activity. Your partner, unsurprisingly, doesn’t care to watch, walking with you as you make small circles in the nest. At one point, Luffy jumps on the seats lined against the walls, matching your pace as he whistles quite brashly. You carry on like that for a while, watching all parts of the horizon and shoreline of Tashini. You’re not surprised to see any signs of life at this time of night. 

After a few times of Luffy almost losing his balance, he joins your side, loudly stomping his sandals on the dock as he kicks his feet forward.

“Man, I liked that Theodore a lot!” Luffy says. 

Your face scrunches up in confusion, unsure of what exactly he means until you can only deduce one thing.

“You mean… theater?”

“Teeter?”

“ Theater.”

“Oh, tea-eater!”

“Yeah, that.” You couldn't help but giggle at him. “What did you like about it?”

He chuckles, reaching back to the straw hat and swiftly squashing it on top of his black hair.

“Man, it was great! There was so much yummy food to eat, and it was funny when the knight guy made all those silly faces to sneak around!”

His hands are behind his hand as he throws his head back into it, looking wherever as he talks about all the different aspects he likes. Luffy talks about the color of the clothes he liked and the way he laughed at the things that had the audience roaring. You idly listen, agreeing to his list, not paying attention to your watch shift duties anymore.

“I think the girl knight who got captured was kinda stupid. She didn’t scream or kick when she was locked up!” Luffy says.

“Would you have kicked and screamed instead?” 

“I would’ve never gotten caught!” Luffy laughs out. “But if I did, I would at least fight back. She could’ve easily saved herself from the guards if she did that!”

“I think her being the helpless lady in need of saving was a part of the story, it made it more dramatic. For the knight, it made saving her more high stakes.” You think out loud.

“If she’s a knight, she’s strong enough to fight back and get out by herself.” He turns to you. “Right?” 

That makes sense to you, but what doesn’t is the way Luffy looks at you. He’s looked at you with that cheerful expression thousands of times before, but now you feel a hammer from your heartbeat. His chest muscles barely peek out in the moonlight under that silky button-up, and his tie is so, so close to slipping now.

You reach out before thinking, stepping up to Luffy and catching the end of the tie right before it falls off of his narrow shoulders. You promptly adjust the tie so it's balanced around his neck, no longer threatening to fall off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You surmise. Honestly, Luffy makes sense. In his scarce moments of clarity, he always speaks with an astounding factuality. 

His smile fades as he looks into both of your eyes. The proximity of you two is now very apparent, but you're struggling to find yourself creating distance, struggling to keep your hands off of the edges of his tie.

“I–”

“I want to learn how to kiss!” Luffy announces loudly.

You sucked in a breath that catches in your throat, rather badly, and feel a cough fumble out of your mouth. You try to save face but find yourself awkwardly grasping onto your shirt and in the air for some stability. 

“I’m sorry, I’m surprised you know what it’s called,” you say after gaining enough breath.

Luffy gives you a frown and crosses his arms. “I know what kissing is. I’m not dumb.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I just…” You kick yourself in your mind. “What brought this up?”

Luffy shrugs, looking out the nest’s windows onto the oceanline. The moonlight illuminates his face crisply through one of the windows, but you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking.

“Was it the theater?” You ask him.

He looks back at you without moving his head, confirming your suspicions. 

“They did what we did. I wanna know how to do that.” 

“With… me?” You blink.

“Yup!”

You feel the thrumming of your heart in your veins, beating at his words. “It's pretty simple, you should know based on the first time we did,” you say. You try to stuff down your elation as best as possible, but you know your face is warming just like it did last night. 

“I wasn’t paying attention!”

“You should have been! You were there, you know-?!”

“You want to, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you.

“So, what if I do?” You say, a bit annoyed at his correct assumption. “You already know what to do, plus, we have to be on watch right now!” You gesture with your arms held out open in a reminder of why you’re both here. 

“I have Haki!” Luffy says with a childish pout. “If anyone comes I’ll know. I’ll beat them up.”

You frown at him, again seeing how easily your captain can push to get his way. It feels even redundant for you to be on watch if Luffy has enough Observation Haki to detect anything suspicious.

“Just one.” He grumbles. “I just want one.”

You know this feeling. The cocoons that were once hibernating in your stomach have hatched into butterflies, now violently beating against your gut. The small crush you had has transpired into an infatuation. An annoying infatuation. The current predicament you’re in is…

Tricky.

Luffy doesn’t seem to be interested in you like that. You know he just wants a lesson again—for his own purposes. But, can you find it in you to deny him of something that you’ve been thinking about, even before last night?

“Okay,” You sigh, hand waving up and down. “Stand up, then.”

Luffy stands up straight like a spring, smiling brightly at another victory. He is giddy from excitement, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, yet he waits for your next words of wisdom.

“I guess the best way to describe it is… there’s not any set rules for this. To kiss, at least one person is needed, you put your lips together like this,” you make a small pout, “and lean into the object of affection that you want to kiss.” 

You demonstrate by taking the back of your hand, looking at Luffy when you pout your lips, and gently placing them on the back of your hand. When you purse your lips and pull away, the contact makes a small smooch noise.

“Here,” you raise the back of your hand you kissed, holding it up to Luffy. “Try it.”

Luffy looks at your hand curiously before he leans in and he pouts his lips like you did. He presses his lips to your hand with the pressure of a feather until he briefly, brashly presses it down and lifts his head. It reminded you of the peck of a bird, almost. In the process, he opens his mouth to make a small smack.  

“Like that, got it? …why are you frowning?”

“That’s not what I want,” Luffy says. “I want to kiss like they did.” 

Why are you not shocked a hand kiss would be enough.

“To do that, both parties usually lean in for a kiss together. If it’s something that both people want to do, the rest should come naturally.”

“And they did this,” Luffy says, holding his arms and shaking them around to poorly mimic the embrace the two on stage did. 

“C’mere.” 

You take the ends of his tie, pulling him a step towards you until your bodies are inches away, the straw hat barely grazing the top of your forehead. Luffy lets you easily, watching you with gentle focus. You guide his hands around your middle. You lightly rest your hands on top of his shoulders. You hear a soft swallow. 

“When you want, you lean in. Once our lips touch, you close your eyes. Ready?” You ask. He nods. 

“Okay, just follow me.”

You lean in halfway, slowly, softly pursuing your lips together as your eyes flutter shut, nervousness bubbling up your body until your head feels light. You let it try and fizzle, try to let the stupid pounding of your heart quiet down in your eardrums, but it’s slowly replaced to wonder when your lips stay untouched by Luffy. 

…and, still nothing?

When you open your eyes, Luffy is staring at you, face reddened like a cherry with his mouth agape. His eyes are fixed in awe, flicking between your eyes and lips.

“Sorry, I,” Luffy stutters. “‘S weird. My body… it’s not moving.”

The weird feeling in your stomach has bubbled up again. His flustered cheeks and sheepish smile are quickly blocked from your vision as he mumbles into the back of his hand. 

“I don’t know. It’s like, l-like I don’t deserve it, or somethin’. Haha…”

Overcome with affection for the blushing captain, you quickly close the gap. You want to steal away his anxieties, steal away that flustered nervousness you couldn’t bare to see on him. It takes him only a second to process it before his muscles relax against you. 

Your lips touch his gently. His hands rest on your waist, his straw hat lifting oh-so-slightly by your forehead as you press into him. Those narrow lips of his feel so plush against yours, perfectly slotted together that you feel light and airy. It lasts just as long as last night’s chaste kiss.

When you slowly pull away with a small smooch noise, his face doesn’t look as cherried, save for a light pink tinge across the apples of his cheeks. 

“Cool!” Luffy says, “Let me try!”

“Hold on, I said only once–”

He gains the courage this time to lean wholly, trapping your lips between his thinner ones, feeling the smile etched on his face the whole time. When you pull away, he seems almost back to normal. The lingering worry on his face is gone now.

Smooch!

“Well?”

“It’s good,” Luffy said. “It’s really good. Again. Let’s do it again.”

You both lean in this time, lifting the brim of his straw hat again. His hands naturally graze down to your waist while your hands lay on his chest. His lips aren’t as chapped as you thought they would be. For a guy, they seem very soft. Not in the way that regular skin should be, but more pliable. It squishes against your lips but seems to spring back to form each time you pull back. 

Smooch!

“Again.” 

You both lean in again, as your hands explore past the partially unbuttoned shirt to his chest. Your suspicions of rubbery skin are confirmed as you feel the softness, malleable, that bounces back when you release the pressure of your fingertips. 

Smooch!

“Again.”

After slotting your lips back on his, you swallow down a whine, busying yourself with the feeling of his body against yours, his hands so subtly stroking the small of your spine just above your ass. This time, the straw hat slips off of his head and falls to his back.

A noise of frustration escapes him as he squirms.

“Do what you did last time,” he whines. “Your hands. Like you did yesterday.”

“So you were paying attention, liar.” You grimace. He smiles in response, just like a guilty captain would.

Yet, you have no qualms threading our fingers in his hair, grabbing the tufts together a little too excitedly. You dive back to his mouth to claim his lips. This time, his eyes close in tandem with yours as he slips his hands up and down your torso, kneading the flesh, leaning his body against yours. You absentmindedly feel the fluffy, soft black hair under your fingertips, running your hands through the scalp as Luffy presses his lip to yours. 

“I think,” Luffy breaks the kiss, speaking so close his lips are still grazing yours, “you have magic fingers.”

“Yeah?” You giggle for the first since you’ve started kissing him, making his face light up.

You turn his head slightly to give him a small peck on the cheek, he tries to copy you by stretching his head to yours and planting a quick, hard kiss.

“And you smell familiar.” He says softly. So unnaturally soft for the rubber man that it makes your face burn.

“What do I smell like?” You whisper.

“Like a cabin.”

You giggle. “Okay? Any cabin in particular?”

“Makino’s cabin. Back where I grew up.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Luffy thinks about it. After a moment, he gives you a big nod as if sealing the thought in his mind. 

“Yes,” he smiles.

“That’s nice of you to say, Luffy.” 

He seems to like that compliment. To which he smiles very brightly, now kissing you with a newfound passion that you find attractive.

Okay, like, really fucking hot. 

Luffy smushes your face between his palms and plants kisses any place he can think of. From the lids of your eyes to your temples, to the bow of your nose, and all the parts of your cheeks that squish into his lips when he puts extra pressure. Each time he leaves a small, wet smooch behind, a sound he seems captivated by the more he kisses you. 

“It’s really good.” He murmurs into your skin. 

His arms reach out and grip the back of your neck, almost pulling you closer despite the fact your chest couldn’t press farther. His heavy-handed presence causes you to shuffle a little. 

“Luffy…” You sigh out. You really can’t take it without needing more. You pull away from him; something he doesn’t seem happy about, illustrated by the childish pout he has on his face.

“There’s one more type of kiss we can do.” You whisper breathlessly. 

“Really, what’s that?” Luffy asks. You brush over his lips, noses lightly connected as you whisper to him.

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

You lean into him once more, but now slowly opening up your mouth to have your tongue slip out. You run it over Luffy’s thin lips before running against the entrance. After a moment, Luffy opens his mouth, tongue slowly peaking out past his lips to meet yours. 

You swear there is electricity in the air when it happens because he moans again. Whimpers from the sensation as his hands jolt around the caressed skin. 

Your tongues dance together in shared bliss, Luffy shudders against you at the feeling, grabbing your body like he’s surprised by the feeling. 

Luffy knew how bad you wanted to do this—he said himself—but, he must not know the extent, really. 

Because with every kiss, it just leads to more wanton in you. With every graze of his tongue against yours, feeling the wet muscle that tastes of meat, it makes your breath feel like magma. The noises coming from sucking and tasting his tongue slicks into the dead of night. It’s the only noise ringing in your ears save for the small whimpers and sighs coming from both of you. He despreately brushes his fingers against the sides of your face as his chest tightens, and grows still.

“Breathe through your nose.” You tell him after Luffy starts to turn blue in the face. His breath to hitch, the air exhaled back down your throat hot and wet.  He instantly returns to color, now with a revived energy. 

You can’t take it, him exploring and prodding the inside of your mouth, him gripping and almost vibrating against you as your upper bodies press together. You wrap your arms over his shoulder, permanently sewing your finger pads with that soft hair.

“Ah…” A small moan comes out of Luffy’s mouth when you tug on his hair to tilt his head up and off of yours. You dive in with false expertise as you give wet kisses on the underside of his jaw, consuming the skin until you’ve covered it all. You move to his neck, making him grunt as you pull his head back to expose it in full. Your tongue slowly sweeps down and over until it lands on his jugular, sweetly sucking it now as he gasps. The breathiness turns into a grunt of what sounds like frustration and he riggles against the feeling. 

“I think something’s wrong again,” Luffy says, face knit together. You pull off of him in concern.

“Do you need me to stop–”

“No!” He says, grabbing both sides of your head. His eyes fire wide as he grabs in panic. 

In his expression, he shoves you forward so hard you lose your footing, tumbling down with him onto the planks. You both fall into each other before he scrambles on top of you. 

“What’s wrong, Luffy?” You say, looking up at him.

“I don’t know,” He says, “But… every time I try to think about it, this happens!” His hand dives in between the two of you before hastily grabbing onto the hem of his shirt and pulling it so high his whole chest shows. When your eyes travel down, you see his problem. 

“It’s why I was late! I couldn’t make it go away even when I touched it like you showed me to!”

“Oh.” 

A breath catches in your throat as your eyes adjust under the moonlight. With his other hand, he points crudely to a large bulge now prominent under his pants. 

“Can you show me what I did wrong?” He breathlessly whispers. 

“Y-you did it like last night?” You prop yourself by your arms as he kneels over you. 

“Yeah. It didn’t feel as good, though. Used half of some bottle in the kitchen.”

Luffy shuffles a hand into the underside of his pants, rustling into his boxers until he grips the erection trapped inside. You swallow as he takes his dick, quickly slipping it out.

“You sneaked into the pantry?” And he’s still slick from it. The tip of his penis glistens from the lubricant, as well as the pre-cum now leaking from it. You should be upset on Sanji's behalf that he allegedly used half the bottle of what youf guess is oil from the kitchen, but the view of his dick was too appealing for you to care.

“It kinda hurt without it,” Luffy said. You don’t blame him, mostly thankful for its convenience.

“I can show you then, Luffy,” you whisper, “you can start when you want.”

He beams, bright and contagious, as he grabs onto the head. Without any guidance, he begins to pump himself with an arm propping himself over you. You don’t dare to mention the intimate space he's invading for fear he’ll back off of you. With proximity, you get to see more of his movements, his facial features, and the heat behind his breath.

His face scrunches up in his first initial strokes before easing into a steady rhythm, similar to the brisk pace he kept last night. His hand lingers on the base and shaft, quickly running over the head each time. You could hear the light, moist squelching of oil rubbing against his cock.

“Ah, this is familiar,” Luffy says. 

“Better than earlier?”

“I did this earlier, but it didn’t feel this good.” 

“You did it the same way?” You ask in confusion. 

“I guess.” He shrugs. “I think you help me. This is really fun,” Luffy huffs out.

Luffy’s confession astonishes you. To know you can help him, to know that you and you only have made Luffy experience this, it makes you burn up in lust. 

“Shit, Luffy, you sound so good saying that.” 

You want to reach up and touch him, graze down his body with wonderful kisses, and feel the heat against each inch of skin. You feel your hand inch in front of you to reach up to his face, but when you lift it, Luffy jerks into himself so sporadically that your fingers are caught in the crossfire. 

He’s loud when your hand suddenly fumbles onto his shaft. The feeling of surprise is mutual as you look deeply into one another. His mouth opened, pearly white teeth peeking out.

“Please,” Luffy doesn’t need to say anything else, his fingers hastily interlocking with yours as he lowers them. 

“Touch me like this.”

Your face feels on fire, his hands feel steady and laced with yours as you both grasp his shaft together. He whimpers in delight, satisfied with the new warmth of your hand wrapped with his.

It’s so erotic, so sensual, his shaft feels so hot with the slick of oily lubricant and pre-cum meshing in the crevices of both of your fingers now when you start fisting him. He shudders into you in pleasure, head lulling back and forth like a wave, chasing his highs and mellowing into lows. A wrinkle in between his eyebrows shapes off and on when he bucks out. The moistness of his lips attracts you again, how could you deny the savory taste of Luffy in front of you?

Your lips latch onto him, licking up the saliva awaiting from his drooling mouth. Teeth click together from the intensity you both kiss each other. It’s wild, and uncoordinated, you try to follow the beat of his pace while he desperately chases your tongue after each moan. 

His mouth in combination with his erection, hand, his fingers squeezing into yours as you stroke him. His dick felt firm in your grip, textured with small veins illuminated by the moon. Every time his hand slipped past his shaft, you would help guide him back as quickly as possible, and every time he would thrust his hips forward to compensate. 

“You look so needy like this, but you can’t help it, can you? Such a gorgeous look on your face, so sweet and filthy, hm?” You coo. Something in you adds a little more pressure to his dick stoking down the base. Something that Luffy finds quite enjoyable. It gives you so much gratification to see that lustful, desperate face, that you try something sinful.

“Why don’t you tell me how this feels?” With your one hand interlocked with his, you take your other and dive past Luffy’s leaking erection. You cup his ballsack, feeling the thin skin molding into your hand until you rub up against it.

“Ah!” His head bucks forward into the crook of your shoulder. He’s shaking from the pleasure of it. “So good. So good, I—ahhn!”

You fondle his balls under the breakneck pace of strokes into his cock. The smooth flesh is nothing like his pulsing, steel penis. You inch lower down to the underside of the sack and slowly stroke under until Luffy reduces to nothing but animalistic husks.

“Be as loud as you need to, Luffy.” You rasp. “You can do that for me, can’t you? A good boy like you can do it.”

And just like that, your words seem to coax something in him, because he grips your fingers harder with his, pumping himself into a devious pace, and moaning wildly in between his pants.

Puffs of warmth exhale from his lips, the heat between you two can’t be penetrated by any icy chill of the night air. You feel enveloped in him, in your lust and passion, you can hear his every bit of pleasure, every pump of his dick, and the way the sound of his pants is magnetized with his head tucked to your ear. 

My God, he’s drooling in ecstasy down your neck. You feel the wetness trail like sweat down your flesh.

“Nnn, ahh, ‘s coming out. I can feel it.” Luffy whimpers into your skin. His voice sounds rasped from his panting

“Why don’t you cum then, my captain?” You take the liberty to nip on the skin of his neck. It’s something small, but one that causes his whole body to jolt.

“Mmmph!”

That look. He’s so close to release that he’s completely hunched over you. There’s barely any space for you to stroke his pulsing dick, but you continue regardless. His voice is the only thing you can hear on the ear he’s crushed up against. 

But you don’t get that liberty of him cumming onto you again, however. In your other ear, you hear something alert enough for you to slow your strokes down.

You hear a faint shout from the deck of the Sunny as a familiar voice calls out the two of your names. Your body freezes.

“Luffy, shit, Luffy!”

“Hm?” Dazed and sublime, Luffy has half a mind to hear the panic in your tone. 

“Oiiii!” Says the voice, one that sounds so quiet, but it’s loud enough for you to tell who it is.

With a push you’ll soon regret, you shove him off of you onto his butt, scurrying to sit up.

“It’s the next shift!”

“Ah… so?”

“Get up,” You squeak, pulling Luffy's pants back up, much to his dismay. “Put it away!”

“What?! Why?”

“I told you why yesterday, just do it!” You zip his pants but up against the now trapped erection, and Luffy groans out.

Both of you try to get up at once—Luffy in agitation, you in alarm that his button-up is falling down his shoulder and he looked fucked out of his mind—but you bash your heads together. The clunk is so solid that you double down on the floor. You yelp out in pain, looking up from the corner of your eye to see Luffy’s standing up just fine. 

Of course. Of course he doesn’t feel how hard you collided into each other, the fucking rubber man. 

Quitely, you hear someone. 

“Oiiii, you never woke us up. Is everything okay?” That voice gets louder with each rung of the ladder of the crow’s nest until the latch is lifted. 

Coming from the opening is a mop of blonde hair followed by a mossy green. You freeze, whipping your head to see the state of Luffy. His face is slate, like nothing was happening, and…

What the fuck?

There’s no more bulge in his pants. 

You can’t think of it too hard, with the throbbing pain seeping into your head as your adrenaline creeps down.

“Oi,” Zoro gets up, looking back and forth between you two. “The hell happened here.”

“Ah! My angel, you’re hurt?” Sanji yelped in alarm, “You had me so worried. We were calling out for some time and didn’t hear anything back. And you’re sweating bad…” He kneels to your form glued to the ground, pointing to your neck ladened with Luffy’s drool, looking back at Luffy who was awkwardly standing close with no motion. “Hey, shithead, the hell did you do to her?”

“Nothin’, she was just showing me something.”

You don’t know if those two believe him. With the horrid poker face Luffy typically has in a lie, you can’t bare to look up and confirm it. You rub your head on the ground. 

“I just… bumped my head.” You groan.

He looks back at Luffy, then at you.

“Oh, dear, please go back down and sleep as much as you need, me and moss shit can take care of the rest, okay?”

“Who the hell are you calling moss shit, kitchen boy?”

Yeah, you’re getting the hell out of here before dumbbells are thrown.

Once you get the bearings to look up from the pain, you see the lemon-lime pirates gnawing their teeth at each other. From a glimpse, a straw hat dips down below the crow’s nest latch and disappears. 

You feel a small force compelling you to chase that hat, the man attached to it, that you ignore the masculine catfight beside you and follow it. 

You climb down the mast to the deck of the Sunny and hear your feet knock onto the deck. 

You see Luffy leaning against the dock next to the boys’ dorm, looking out for a moment before latching his eyes on you. You’re glad to see him. He doesn’t seem to be frustrated at the abrupt stop you put things.

“Hey,” Luffy calls, followed by your name.

“Hey,” you softly smile back at him. Maybe it was a little awkward. Maybe you’re distracted by the way the collar of his unbuttoned shirt is still hanging off of one shoulder, or that the shirt tie that laid around his shoulders is gone at this point. You hope it didn’t look weird to the two who came in.

Luffy rustles with the top of his straw hat. The ties of it dangle with the wind of the night.

“Thanks for that! It means a lot.” He says.

And just like that, he retreats to the boys' dorm, leaving you alone again as you make your way to your own bed. You snuggle back in bed with the girls, harboring a hardship that bounced in your head:

Damn. There’s always Nakama somewhere to walk in on you.