Shipping Picture ♡ ｐｒｏｍｐｔｓ 📷

[sarabi]

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shipping picture prompts

o1. comment with your character and prefs in a top level. o2. reply to others, complete with pictures and gifs! o3. cook up something shippy from those inspirational ingredients.

link 'em: <a href=IMAGEURL>TEXT</a> embed 'em: <img src=IMAGEURL> shrink 'em: <img src=IMAGEURL width=500> OR <img src=IMAGEURL height=INSERT>

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[iluso]

The worry is nice, in a strange way. Almost like the reciprocation of touch from the alley, something small that feels big instead in a way that Luffy maybe wouldn't actually be able to articulate if he tried, but he feels it instinctually. It's the manifestation of care in a way that feels so quintessentially Koby, an anxious way to love. Not that Luffy doesn't worry about others, of course, but for the most part he loves by piling all of his blind faith onto the shoulders of his companions (whether or not that's healthy or helpful is another matter entirely) and worry comes only when danger is at the door.

"Yeah," he agrees immediately, because Koby's right! They only have so much time here, and there's no way Luffy's going to spend any more of it being sad about things that can't be changed. That's not his style.

No, his style is much more direct. They could talk more about other things, Luffy would certainly like to talk more, but they'll be able to do that in letters too. There are some things that can't be done on paper with secret identities, oceans apart. Things like, well... Luffy's face briefly screws up in determination, and where Koby gets stuck on and then what, Luffy ploughs right throw that into and why not? because it's been sitting in the back of his mind since they landed on the deck (maybe longer, if he's honest with himself), and he's not one to fight an impulse for long. He reaches up to take hold of the front of Koby's shirt, tugging him so he's closer.

The way Luffy plants a kiss on Koby's mouth is graceless, he bumps their noses together and his lips land a little off center because his eyes are closed (that's how he's seen other people kiss, so he's pretty sure that's how it supposed to be done!) He corrects a moment later though, tilting his head so their noses are no longer aligned and so that their mouths slot together better, though his fingers remain curled tightly in the fabric of Koby's clothes like he forgot all about the existence of his own hand.

YOU DID IT, FELLAS

[kobes]

When it happens -- finally, at last, the stars aligning and the earth shuddering on its axis -- Koby doesn't react gracefully at all, if only because he's imagined just this exact moment so many times that it doesn't fully register that it's actually happening. Not at first. He makes a soft sound of surprise as Luffy's hand curling into his shirt, instinctively wondering if they're going to -- fight or something, that seems like a Luffy way of making the most of their time.

But instead there's the press of Luffy's mouth to his, new and strange and surprisingly soft, for all it's firm directness. Luffy radiates warmth, he smells like the ocean and tastes like citrus and sandwiches, Luffy keeps hold of Koby's shirt tight and keeps him close, even when Koby's still realizing what's happening. The brim of the hat nudges at Koby's forehead, tipping back slightly, right as Luffy's moving his head, the surprised bump of noses and lips suddenly fitting together. By then Koby's closed his eyes, leaned forward so eagerly he nearly loses his own balance, that warm, dizzying feeling that's been building in his chest spreading through his entire body like wildfire.

Because that's exactly how Luffy would kiss, sudden and impulsive and fearless. It's better than what Koby's been daydreaming about for days, weeks, months, because it's real. He doesn't realize his hands are moving until they're cradling Luffy's face, fingers a little shaky, tracing the edge of the scar under Luffy's eye, the warm sun-kissed skin of his cheeks, the silky brush of his curls. All things Koby's stared at as much as he can, whenever he can, but has never let himself touch, until now. That's also better.

Head spinning, Koby finally rocks back, draws in a few shuddery breaths -- some of the dizziness might just be oxygen deprivation, oops -- and drags his tongue over his lower lip, chasing Luffy's taste. He opens his mouth, looks up, face bright red. Closes his mouth. Swallows hard. "I've -- wanted to do that for. A really. Really long time."

✌️ proud of u, boys!!

[iluso]

When they part Luffy's mouth immediately stretches into a smile as his eyes flutter open, color that wasn't there before he pulled Koby in now splashed high on his cheeks like it followed the marine's touches across his face. At some point his hand did fall from Koby's shirt to land on his hip where it sits now, though the fabric is still a little wrinkled from his rough handling, and he tilts his head so it rests more firmly against Koby's fingers—pressing their skin together while he can—shamelessly needy. He's never tried to kiss before, and he can't believe this whole time he's been missing out: it's like the rush of adrenaline from a fight is running rampant in his veins, but in a way that's much softer and sweeter. He's out of breath but he wants to go again right away, especially when he watches Koby's tongue dart out against his lip, though hearing out Koby's confession feels pretty good too.

He thinks that maybe he has also wanted that for a really long time, even if he'd never have been able to recognize it for what it was, before. He'd only ever really paid attention to one type of hunger (two, if one counts his voracious appetite for adventure), after all, and that had always satisfied him.

Koby is different from anyone he's known before, though. Luffy likes making him laugh, he likes getting him all flustered, and he definitely likes being able to turn his face pinker than his hair. Absently, Luffy's hand leaves Koby's waist to tug out the wrinkles in his shirt, barely resisting the urge to yank him in again as they finish catching their breath.

"I've never thought about doing stuff like that, until I met you." He's a bit old to be someone who never got the urge to do that with anyone before—he's weird, he does know that even if he doesn't particularly care—but he's not afraid of Koby finding him too strange. Koby is well aware of his oddities and definitely likes him anyway. Clearly. "Was it okay?" Because it felt great to Luffy, but he's got nothing to compare it to, himself.

[kobes]

The spot where Luffy's hand had rested feels like it's burning, and Koby's mind is already skipping far ahead to the types of things he (occasionally! secretly!) thinks about in his bunk late at night, the kind of things that make his stomach go fluttery and hot and hungry for something that isn't food. He pushes them away, tries to linger in that breathless, dizzied moment with his mouth still warm from Luffy's, the taste of him still right there, on his lips, his tongue.

"M-Me neither. When I met -- you, I mean." Sometimes Koby thinks about that terrifying, thrilling moment, startled in the hold of Alvida's ship, Luffy appearing out of the barrel and lunging after him, covering his mouth with one warm hand and staring him so intent, so focused in the eyes. Telling him to knock it off, firm, commanding, in a way that still made Koby's whole body shiver. That thrill had never gone away, not once in the next handful of days, nor the few that followed, chasing the Straw Hats all across the East Blue, building to that one last farewell in the tangerine grove. Koby had though his chance was gone, then, that it was the last time he'd ever see Luffy, for years and years.

But now: they're here. They're here in the dimming light, and Luffy's smoothing out his shirt and Koby suddenly wants to kiss him again, kiss him a thousand more times, make the most of every second they're together. So he nods fervently, eyes wide, face flushed, moving closer, close enough that he's practically on top of Luffy. "It was -- perfect. It was absolutely perfect. You could -- do it again. If you wanted."

[iluso]

Koby's affirmation is... maybe not a relief, exactly, because Luffy wasn't nervous as much as he was open to criticism, so the compliment just makes him even more giddy. He agrees (it was perfect, it felt perfect), but instead of saying so he just barely waits for Koby to finish his sentence—his invitation—before making an enthusiastic noise at the back of his throat and surging in again, upwards this time because Koby is almost on top of him. Both his hands find their way to Koby's hips, and Luffy tugs him closer (further onto his lap) so that the angle is easier when he presses their mouths together again. The hanging table and all of her forgotten dishes rattles but swings harmlessly out of the way when Luffy accidentally knocks his arm against it during the maneuver, so to avoid it hitting Koby in the back when it inevitably swings forward again, the pirate drops his weight fully against the bench and pulls Koby down with him.

His hat knocks off his head again when he does so, toppling over easily from where it had been bumped slightly askew during their first kiss, and it settles against the cushions where Koby had just been sitting. Luffy laughs against Koby's mouth when he feels it happen rather than seeing it, because he let his eyes fall shut again: normally he would grab it and jam it back on right away but (shockingly) there's something he wants a little bit more than to have it perched in its usual spot on his head.

He pulls back only far enough to find Koby's closest hand, and he coaxes it back up with a light grip on his wrist to press the marine's palm into his curls now that they're out. "I liked it, before," he explains between kisses, only managing to go a word or two before pressing another one against Koby's mouth (or, when missing one time, on his chin), "when you were touching my hair! Do it again?"

[kobes]

Koby makes a quiet, surprised sound against Luffy's mouth as he's tugged forward, tugged -- fully onto Luffy's lap, an echo of their position up on the deck. That feels like a million years ago, like another life, one where all Koby's fraught, teeming, overwhelming feelings were tightly locked away in his chest. Now they're all out there, evident in the way Koby settles with his knees on either side of Luffy, grabbing at his shirt, feeling how warm and solid and real he is beneath the fabric. That's something Koby's daydreams can't quite recreate, the feeling of having Luffy right there, breathing and laughing and kissing and kissing him.

One would've been enough, even two, but now that there's four, seven, ten, Luffy's mouth against his, crooked and smiling and warm, getting his chin, his cheek, it's suddenly not enough. Koby wants more, wants to chase after the way the pirate tastes, wants to memorize it. His glasses keep slipping down, and he nudges them back once, twice, before finally shoving them up on top of his head, tangling in his hair. That's longer now, like Luffy's is, the subtle signs of the passage of time. They're both older now, changed irrevocably from who they were when they first met. Koby wonders how long it'll be until next time they see one another. He doesn't want to waste any more time.

So when Luffy tugs his hand up, pulls his fingers into the tangle of silky hair, Koby doesn't hesitate. He slips his hand into Luffy's curls, not too tight, but firm, real, rubbing a few strands between his fingertips. "Like that?" It comes out breathless, shaky, thick with every emotion Koby's feeling, throbbing in his chest like a bruise. He wants -- he wants so much, he wants to grab onto Luffy and kiss him senseless and pull his hair and keep him close and safe and his. The ferocity of the emotion has Koby's breath catching, his eyes bright and -- yes, a little teary, it's Koby we're talking about.