kokoya

[kokoya]

Okay perhaps this sounds odd but imagine Astarion starts to disassociate while intimate with Tav and so he uses their established safe word, only to be bewildered when Tav actually listens to him and stops and asks if he’s okay and tries to comfort him because nobody has cared that much before 😢

OH GODS WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME (i love it) warning for suggestive content :)

For as long as Astarion's been genuinely intimate with you, for no other reasons but simply because of the affection the two of you hold for one another, he has always been in control.

It soothes him, in a way, to be on top. And as much as he enjoys watching you come undone beneath him, there's a more frustrating reason behind why he always feels the need to be the one to push you down onto whatever surface he deems decent enough at the time. From above you, he can see every little twitch in your body, every shift in your expression, and most of all, he can control what's happening, unlike his centuries spent as a seductive tool for Cazador's own needs.

He knows you're not like those fools. He knows you're different, and you're special to him. But the gnawing voice in the back of his head always forces him to pull you in, to hold you closer, to make love to you.

It's fucked up in so many ways.

"I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel."

But when you look up at him with those imploring, loving eyes, the voice seems to go quiet. He swallows the dryness of his throat, unable to think of anything but how wonderful your touch feels on his skin, and he thinks he could drown in this forever. He's putty in your hands, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Well? Don't be a tease just standing there, darling."

In what feels like minutes, he's a mess. He's making sounds he shouldn't be making, fingertips digging into your hips as if they're the anchors keeping him from finishing too early. He breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, groaning when you caress the sharp tip of his ear between your fingers.

The only thing keeping him from spilling is the impending embarrassment he'd feel for doing so this early on in the night.

Then, everything stops.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper.

They're only words. They're not ones he's heard little of---in fact, he's heard it too much in the past two hundred years. In an instant, memories of the nights he spent under strangers, forced to shove his mind into its darkest corners just to get through their own pleasures, flood his consciousness. The sickening taste in his mouth afterward, and the need to rub his skin till it goes raw were not uncommon. It was routine. A sick part of his life that he'd rather forget.

You don't mean it the same way they did. They only said things like that because that's all they could say. They didn't know him as anything but the husk of a body he resided in. He knows you are saying the words to him. Not to his body but to the very person he is.

But the word comes spilling out his mouth, and immediately, you freeze.

You actually stopped.

Of course, you would. You're you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something?" you reach to cup either of his cheeks, and he stares at you as if you're a star that's fallen from the sky. He blinks, slowly.

"I don't know, I just---" he searches for words. "--you haven't done anything wrong, darling."

You wait for him to finish patiently. Gods, he doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve you.

"I only remembered something I'd rather not," he plasters a crooked grin on his face. "It's quite alright. We can continue now if I haven't ruined the mood."

You pull away from him, and he fears you'll leave.

Moments later, you return with a glass of water. Wordlessly, you hand it to him, and he only stares at it, confused beyond belief. Only once he notices the way you gesture to the glass does he drink it, and you finally climb back into bed, lying down beside him.

"Come here," you open your arm, motioning him to come closer.

"Darling, as much as I'm all for experimenting, that's a strange position to have sex in."

You smile, shaking your head. You don't explain any further, only continuing to hold out your arm.

Hesitant though curious, he slowly lies down beside you, his head just above your chest and slotted between the space below your chin. With gentle hands, you pull him closer and toss the blanket over both of your bodies.

It's warm. Strange, but warm.

"You don't have to wear a mask with me," you whisper.

His eyes grow wide, and his chest stills. He doesn't have many tears left after 239 years, but there's an unfamiliar squeeze in his chest that tells him if he were still 39 and alive, he might have. Astarion wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into where he can hear the steady beating of your heart.

Later, when your eyes begin to droop, he mumbles.

"Tell me I'm beautiful again."

"You're beautiful," you say softly. "With or without your pretty face."

You might be imagining it, but you feel him smile against your skin.

[kokoya]

Please Let Me Be Enough

Summary: After missing an important date for something you can’t fathom, Spencer has to convince you that you’re the one for him.

Tags: angst with a happy/hopeful ending, feelings of worthlessness, feelings of not being good enough, mentions of season 8 love interest and spoiler of that arc ending, gender neutral reader, no physical descriptors - an outfit is mentioned that reader wears of Spencer's but it is described as being "extra large for him" (Think the XXXL hoodie he wears in season 15), established relationship, pet names, no y/n.

Around 4,500 words.

*The poll said angst with a happy ending, so I hope anyone who voted enjoys!

Hi! Thanks for reading! I welcome any and all feedback - yes, even constructive criticism! Be nice but if you think something is out of character or incorrect, let me know!

He doesn’t know how he doesn’t recognize you immediately, why it takes a few seconds to place the curve of your cheek and the way you stand.

Logically, he knows it’s because he didn’t expect to see you here. If someone had asked him to guess where you were, this wouldn’t have made the top 100 guesses. If it wasn’t for that “find your friends” app that Penelope had created and forced you two to download for “safety reasons”, he never would have come here searching for you.

Confused, Spencer quietly approaches, hiding his body behind a nearby tree, something deep inside him telling him to not alert you to his presence just yet.

From this spot, he can just barely make out that you’re speaking, your voice soft and broken.

“… and that’s the thing. I can’t even hate you, because I could never hate anyone for loving him. He makes it so easy you know? But sometimes - God, sometimes I wish we could trade places. Even if it meant I was dead, at least I would have lived in a world where I had Spencer Reid’s entire heart”.

Spencer is shocked at your words, confused that you could ever think he didn’t love you with everything in him. He knew things had been a little tense for the past few days, since he came home late one Friday to find you with red rimmed eyes, but this, this sadness, couldn’t be from just one night.

You pause for a moment and Spencer recognizes your shaky inhale, knows that you’re trying not to cry. You’re holding an umbrella above you to ward against the sprinkling rain, but something else hides at your side, and it crinkles as you move. You raise your arm to wipe your eyes, giving him a view of what you’ve brought here of all places.

Flowers.

A bouquet of flowers.

With a start, he notices they look exactly like the ones he just sent you today. He actually moves to step forward but stops once more at your voice.

“I don’t even like this kind of flower. Not even in my top five. But they were your favorites. I know that because every time he misses you, he sends them to me. I haven’t figured out if it’s because he feels guilty or because he wishes I was you.”

You bend down, balancing an umbrella on your shoulder, arranging the bouquet along the headstone in an artful way. As you do this, you continue talking, as if the bones lying beneath the dirt will actually answer you, your voice sad and wistful.

“I know your favorite book and passage, as well as which philosophers resonated with you. The songs you liked, and your favorite color. I know that you hated peppermint tea and have powered through novels you despised because you never wanted to leave something half-finished. I know all these things, because he carries you with him, in everything he does or says. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not begrudging the man for having a life before me! Everyone has a past… I just… I wish he would leave you there. God, that sounds awful, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s why he prefers you.”

Your huff out a self-depreciating laugh, shoulders shaking as you struggle to hold in your sobs. Spencer notices his hands are shaking as well, silent tears escaping his eyes. He lets them roll down his cheeks, too ashamed to even wipe them away. He catches himself against the tree at your next words, can feel his heart shattering at how much he feels he’s failed to make you feel his love.

“But I’ll never be you, and that’s the problem Maeve. That’s the issue. You’re Dr. Maeve Donovan, the most beautiful girl in the world, renowned geneticist and the love of my boyfriend’s life. You’re gone and you’re never coming back but he still picks you.  I can never be you so I’ll never be enough.”

Spencer hears you let out a painful sob, one he’s never heard from you before, and he watches as you raise one hand to cover your mouth in a futile effort to silence yourself. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t know if he can, his mind racing, his heart beating faster and faster and faster —

He doesn’t know what caused this. How he didn’t know these poisonous thoughts had taken root in your mind.

He still doesn’t know why you’re here, why you’re talking to the grave of his maybe-ex-girlfriend as if you have some shameful secret. Spencer realizes with a start that he’s been zoning out as his thoughts race, and when he looks back over to where you were, all he sees is the headstone, with the flowers he had sent you arranged all around.

Stepping out from behind the tree, Spencer looks around, trying to find you in the empty graveyard. He spots you as you are getting into your car, and he knows you won’t be able to hear him even if he yells your name, the soft rain of before coming down harder now. He rushes out to the street, ignoring the raindrops hitting his face and the puddle he absolutely stepped in – making a mental note that he should take Derek up on his offer to train more often as he pants – and hails a taxi. Maybe it’s his voice or the way he’s fidgeting, but the driver senses his urgency and Spencer pretends he doesn’t care as the man goes at least 15 over the speed limit. Anything to get back home and talk to you, to make things right.

As the taxi rolls to a stop, he throws cash at the driver, and rushes to take the stairs two at a time, making it to the apartment just as the door swings shut. He hastily throws himself against it, startling you as he pushes inwards. At the sudden intrusion, you raised your umbrella to defend yourself, and Spencer lets out a startled yelp as it crashes down on his head.

“Spencer! Oh my – I’m so sorry!”

You drop the makeshift weapon, mouth dropped open as you stare at your boyfriend in shock and regret. He’s wet – as if he’s spent 30 minutes in the rain and you have no idea why he would have done that. His eyes are staring at you widely and you can’t name the emotion you see swimming in them, but you do notice the small puddle forming where he stands.

“Why… Come inside, we need to get you changed. I know you said that rain doesn’t cause sickness, but it can’t be good for you!”

Spencer lets you usher him inside, watches as you run around grabbing him a towel and blanket. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until now, and he feels his eyes well up with tears watching you rush to take care of him, even though you think that you’re somehow not enough. You notice the tears forming along his lash line and gasp,

“Oh, please tell me I didn’t hurt you. I’m so sorry, I was turning to lock the door and when you pushed in I thought you were an intruder or someone had followed me and I hadn’t noticed and so I just reacted –”

Spencer drops the towel you had given him to the floor, stepping out of his soaked shoes and approaching you. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead, his large hands cupping your face as he leans back to stare directly into your eyes,

“I love you.”

You furrow your eyebrows, absolutely puzzled by what has gotten into your boyfriend. Deciding that your emotions were already drained for the day, you go along with him, leaning to brush a kiss against his lips.

“I love you too, Dr. Reid. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes though, okay?”

He hums, nodding only because he knows that logically, he needs to talk to you, and the conversation will not be a short one. Before he moves away though, he pulls you close to him, kissing you once more.

“Can we talk, once I get changed?” his voice soft and tender.

Hesitantly, you nod, your mind racing with what he wants to talk about. As Spencer goes to change, you make your way to the kitchen, making tea to both warm him up, and to give yourself something to do as you wait.

Spencer goes through the motions of drying off, and makes his way into your closet, searching for a particularly extra large sweatshirt of his he knows you often steal. As he’s looking through the variety of fabrics that are hanging, his eye catches on an outfit he’s never seen before, and his hand reaches out to touch the silky material.

It’s purple, his favorite color, and he can already imagine how beautiful you’ll look wearing it, and he wonders just why you haven’t modeled it for him before. He starts to imagine the two of you all dressed up, and where he would take you to show you off.

Suddenly, it hits him, the smooth fabric falling from his fingertips as he realizes just why he’s never seen this particular outfit before, and why you had been crying a few days ago.

He had missed your make-up anniversary date.

Your anniversary had been a few weeks before, but as it fell on a weekday, you both knew he would likely be called out on a case. You had suggested a make-up anniversary date for the following weekend – knowing that Jack had a soccer game on that Friday, so he was a teeny tiny bit less likely to be called out that night. You had teased him that you’d bought a new outfit, had hinted that you had bought something to wear underneath as well, and assured him that you had taken care of all the details. You had been so excited – and he had forgotten.

The team had returned from a case extremely late the night before, and the paperwork that he could normally breeze through took much longer than normal. It had been a stalking case of a high profile government employee, and the stalker had been murdering innocent people to get their attention. To top it off, the stalker had multiple personalities and he had felt as if all his past nightmares had piled on to each other at once. His mind had been swirling and when he had left work in a daze, he hadn’t planned on going to visit Maeve. One moment he was thinking of all the different aspects of his past and how lucky he was to have survived to find you, and the next he found himself before her headstone.

He hadn’t visited Maeve in a while, and while it wasn’t his plan for the night, he found himself telling her about the case and then about what new books there were, the new coffee shop down the street that gave him all the sugar he asked for. He told her updates about his life. About you. About how he thought she would like you, and how much better you made him want to be. He had spent over an hour talking about you when he realized the time, pulling out his phone to find missed calls from you. When he’d called you back, you had frantically asked if he was alright. When you found out where he was, your voice had changed, although you had tried to play it off as relief.

Suddenly, your words from earlier made more sense and he feels the panic well up inside him.

“You’re gone and you’re never coming back but he still picks you.”

“…picks you”.

That’s what you thought he had done. He hoped you knew he would never purposefully miss a date, especially for something like this. He replays every single word he heard you confess to Maeve’s grave, his mind picking up on details he hadn’t paid attention to. He doesn’t notice that he’s having trouble breathing, still standing in your closet staring at the purple outfit, until he hears you call out his name as you come into the bedroom.

You had partially expected to see Spencer fast asleep, or perhaps taking a hot shower. You had not expected to see him standing in your closet, crying as he stared at the outfit you had thought about trying to return.

“Spencer”… you call out again, not wanting to spook him.

He turns to you and whimpers.

“I’m so sorry”.

His shoulders shake much like your own did just an hour ago and you hurriedly set down both tea cups you carried, approaching him like he’s a wounded animal. Spencer launches himself into your arms, his face buried into your neck as he whispers apology after apology. The words run together and you can barely hear him anymore, but you understand all the same.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his own still brimming with tears.

“I didn’t pick her.”

You furrow your eyebrows and Spencer forces a deep breath into his lungs, and speaks quickly, like he’s afraid if he doesn’t get the words out now that he never will.

“I wanted to talk today, so I came home early and you weren’t here. After a while, I got worried, so I used that app Penelope made? The one that says where someone is?”

Your eyes widen as you realize he knows where you had been. You don’t think he’d be angry with you, and it isn’t as if what you had done was wrong. But if he had been there… had he heard?

As if he could hear your thoughts, Spencer continued,

“I… I heard you, not everything, you sounded like you were in the middle when I got there. You think I picked her because I missed our make-up anniversary night. Angel, I’m so sorry. It just slipped my mind, work had been intense all week, and the case was too much. I left work just thinking about it and my feet led me there. I didn’t plan it at all, I never would have… I’m so sorry”.

You step out of his embrace, your eyes finding the floor and he pays special attention to every micro expression you try to hide. When you look back up, your eyes don’t meet his, and you stare to his left, to the outfit still showing behind him. He waits, wanting to apologize more, to convince you of his sincerity, of his truth, but knowing you are working up the courage to speak.

“I waited at the restaurant for an hour. I’d left you a note here with the address along with a matching tie. They finally asked me to leave – it was that physics-magic place, the one you mentioned? They were having a Nicola Tesla night, and I ended up bartering with the owner for a reservation because they’re booked for six months. I took on some admin work, some marketing style things that they didn’t have done… but they, uh, well, it’s almost a show, you know? You’re at a private table, but everyone in the room starts at the same time. They couldn’t hold up the show for just me. And you weren’t there. So I left.”

You meet his gaze now and Spencer can see the hurt in your eyes. Hurt that he caused.

“Honey…” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“Why her? You, you just said that you were upset and your feet led you to her. What was so, so special about her?”

Tears are in your eyes but you’re determined to not let them fall. You’re hurt and you’re angry but most of all you’re scared. You’re so scared of what his answer will be, if this is the night you’ll officially lose him to a ghost of a memory.

“That’s not…” Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I ended up there but it’s not because she’s special or anything. I hadn’t been there in a while, and I think my brain knew I needed somewhere to go to just talk.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Spencer knows they weren’t the right thing to say. The tears you were fighting so hard against spill over, but when he takes a step towards you, you take a step back.

“72 days.”

Puzzled, Spencer cocks his head to the side, staring at you in utter confusion.

“That’s the last time you were there. I know that because that’s the last time you sent me those flowers. Her flowers. And because when you came home that night, you read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and E.E. Cummings. Her favorite author, and her favorite poet. The next day you wore the gray cardigan that itches because you knew she owned one similar.”

Spencer can’t help his mouth from dropping open, and he roughly swallows, his mind going over that day and wondering how it was that he had never stopped to profile himself.

He can’t find words. He has the entire English language at his disposal and he finds himself speechless.

“2,412 hours. 100.5 days. That’s how long you two had. Do you know, without calculating right now, how long we’ve had? Do you know the number of days? Do you remember our first conversation – our first phone call? What do I have to do to be good enough for you, Spencer?”

“I…you are more than enough for me” he whispers, his voice fraught with distress.

You snort at his words, wrapping your arms around yourself before remembering that it shows you’re defensive. Instead you move to the arm chair in the corner of the room, grabbing the large sweatshirt Spencer had been looking for in the first place and putting it on as if it were a shield against him.

“Maeve…was special. She was my first love. My first real relationship. But that doesn’t make you matter any less, doesn’t make you any less special and important to me. It doesn’t make me love you less.”

He looks at you with love shining in his eyes and it makes you angry. It makes you angry that he can say pretty things and that you want so badly to believe him when you have the proof that they aren’t true. You know you shouldn’t, but you voice the negative thoughts you’ve harbored for far too long.

“That wasn’t a real relationship”. You mutter the words softly, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear but wanting to say them out loud all the same.

“Pardon?” he replies, his voice sharper than before.

You inhale slowly, and count to ten before letting out an exhale. When you meet his eyes, he can’t name the emotion he sees in them, but he knows that he hates it.

“She wasn’t real, Spencer. You talked to her for days on end but none of it was real. You learned that she spent Fridays looking at a microscope and not on dates but she somehow didn’t ever mention the dates that led to her being engaged? You told her about one of your worst childhood memories but you censored it! You told her about your shirt being removed but never told her the rest. You both, both cherry picked what you would share and that’s not a real relationship!”

You’re frantic and heaving by the end, your hands waving as you talk, eyes wide as if you’re pleading with him to understand but not hopeful that he will.

Meanwhile, Spencer doesn’t know what to feel, his first reaction to become defensive and to fire back. He hasn’t responded and he almost misses your last sentence.

“But it was real to you. And that’s what matters. That’s why you pick her”.

You’re so quiet by the end, and you’ve given up on trying to appear as if you aren’t defensive, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking down at your feet.

At first, Spencer wanted to be angry. He wanted to rage and lash out against you that what he had with Maeve had been more than real, more than special, more than love. But then he looked at you, huddled in his clothes, staring at his mismatched socks with tears streaming down your face, and the bubbling anger cools. Left in its place is the desire to soothe, to fix, to love.

He approaches you, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him. His large palm lands on the back of your head as he encourages you to lean against him entirely, your face in the crook of his neck. His other hand moves up and down your back in a soothing motion, while his head drops down to whisper in your ear.

“She was real to me. She was my first. You’re… you’re right. I’d never thought about what we didn’t share with each other. I didn’t want to admit that because then I’d have to wonder if she would have said she loved me if she knew all of me and I didn’t think anyone ever would, until I met you”.

You shake in his arms, your own arms encircling his slim waist and you bury your head further into him, trying desperately to listen to his heartbeat.

“You’re the first person to love me unconditionally. To be there when I don’t deserve you. I think of her fondly, and I think she changed me for the better. She… well, without her, I wouldn’t have told you I loved you so soon. She taught me not to wait, not to let an opportunity slip through my fingers. That love can be fleeting and sorrowful. You’ve taught me it can last and bring more joy than I ever thought I’d get.”

He pulls you away from his chest, cupping your face in both palms,

“Two years, and twenty days. Two years, two months, 6 days, and 9 hours, if we go by the moment I first saw you. It did take me an entire week to see you again, and have the courage to approach you. I’d planned out the conversation in my head but you didn’t stick to my script – and I was so flustered.”

You gave a half smile at the memory of him, coffee cup in hand and hair a mess as he approached you to talk about the book you carried. The same book you carried to avoid talking to strangers. Instead, it led to a wonderful first conversation, an exchange of names and numbers.

“I don’t know why Blake ever told you that I called Maeve the most beautiful girl in the world.  I did say that back then, but I never told you that in that moment, when I first saw you, I couldn’t come up with a single adjective to describe you because none of them were enough. I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of my own heart beating, and it was calling out for you. It sounds silly, and, and ridiculous, and I’m a man of science – of logic and structure – of rules. But the moment our eyes met, none of that mattered and I found myself wondering if fate and destiny might be real after all. By the time I had gotten myself under control, and had the thought to actually approach you, you had walked away”

His thumbs brush away the remaining tears from your cheeks, his lips press against your forehead softly.

“I got called on a case right after, and we landed in the middle of nowhere, late at night. I had been berating myself the entire flight for not talking to you and when we were in the car, I saw a shooting star. And, and I remembered when I was a child, my mom telling me to make a wish on a star and how even then, I didn’t understand how it could ever help. But that night, I made a wish to see you again. I even tried to make a bargain with it – with whatever magic the star had. That if I saw you again, I wouldn’t mess it up, and I’d approach you and get your name.”

He looks at you tenderly and you’re doing your best not to sob once more.

“You wished on a star…for me?” you whisper.

Spencer nods, smiling a smile meant only for you, kissing your forehead once more, then both your cheeks, and the tip of your nose. He presses butterfly kisses against your eyelids before his lips finally meet yours for a brief touch.

“I’m so sorry, for missing our make-up date, especially one you planned for me. I’m sorry for making you feel as if I was stuck in my past, instead of looking forward to a future with you. The flowers – her favorites – I never sent them because of that. I sent them because they mean love for all eternity. In some cultures, they represent divine perfection. It wasn’t because I missed her but because she reminded me to never take you for granted, to appreciate every moment I get to love you. You said that you wished you could trade places with her so you could live with my whole heart but you already have more than that. You have my entire soul, my every atom vibrates with love for you and only you. You are more than enough.”

You reach up to kiss him deeply, your fingers wrapping themselves in his hair.

“I’m sorry” you whisper against his lips and he just smiles at you gently.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry for ever making you doubt how much you matter, how absolutely incredible you are. I love you and I don’t want you to be anyone but you. I don’t want Maeve or anyone else. You’re the only one for me, from the moment we met until the moment our ashes turn to dust, and if there is time after that, you’ll still be the only one I desire. I love you.”

Another kiss, another long embrace. Spencer whispers his love to you, swaying side to side as you hold each other close, bodies molded together like puzzle pieces. Eventually, you move to the bed, lying to face one another, and continuing to whisper truths you have somehow kept hidden, baring the shadowy parts of your souls to each other. You tell him of your own love for him, of your fears and how afraid you are of losing him. He soothes every thought, and tells you about the future he imagines with you. He talks about buying a farm with cattle to pet, and laughs when you tell him you’re imaging him wearing chaps with a cowboy hat. He talks about an actual future, painting a picture so clear there is no doubt it will happen.

The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is his lips pressed against your head once more and the last thing you hear is his honeyed voice, reminding you that you will always be enough.

[kokoya]

— "a forest ranger’s guide on how to read a 🦊 fennec fox’s mood" by [name]

◇ characters ◇ tighnari

◇ tags ◇ pure fluff

◇ a/n ◇ who gave him the right to be this cute and sassy i wanted to make an actual journal entry with like cute stickers and pictures and stuff but i have 0 artistic talent so yeah that's not happening

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝐟𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 #𝟏

✦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛 —

fennex fox hybrid | 𝑣𝑢𝑙𝑝𝑒𝑧 𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑠 —

‘shrooms, fruits, meats, leaves?? (saw him eat some this one time?? for research??)

✦ 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

leaf and flower bookmarks, shade from the sun, mushrooms (not the poisonous ones though), tail grooming (maybe?? saw a special brush on his room one time - need to prove hypothesis)

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

idiots (special note: read more on avidya forest survival guide + resources on sumeru jungle plantations), loud noises, heavy spices, perfumes

✦ 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 —

standing tall, loose; relaxed.

standing tall, tense; alert - most likely there’s danger nearby. survey the area closely.

a twitch and a freeze and a slow swivel; alertness, observation - the fox hears something and is trying to deduce what he heard.

drooping, continuous swivel; embarrassment? anxiousness? to observe more. cute

a few continuous flicks; itchy ears - most likely he can’t scratch them at the moment. help to scratch his ears. usually will be rewarded by headpats :D

flat against head; refer to 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 section.

✦ 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 —

upright, loose; relaxed. !!!do not pull!!!

upright, tall and unmoving; alert, aggression - best prepare for a fight.

upright, with ears flat against head; curious - fox is interested in object. will sometimes ignore his surroundings. take care to watch over him and any possible dangers around.

moving about, with ears flat against head; needy - little fox wants scratches and pats, so scratches and pats he shall get <3

swaying softly, sideways; happy, content - note to self: to add fox’s subject of interest to ‘likes’ whenever this happens

swaying softly, up and down; excited - fox does this when he sees squirrels, fellow fox in the wild, or a new unidentified plant

“master, if we don't go soon- oh! i-i’m sorry,” collei squeaks when her violet eyes find your sleeping form hunched over on your desk, which is covered in countless papers, your arms acting as your pillow and your lips slightly open.

undoubtedly, you had been working on something and fallen asleep somewhen last night. as your soft snore fills the now-silent room, her teacher, who had been standing beside you right by your desk and motioned her to quieten down, smiles and closes the book in his hand with a soft thump.

“i’ll be there in ten minutes,” tighnari says, his tone gentle and the young ranger knows whenever her teacher takes that tone, it must concern you.

she nods wordlessly and leaves the two of you, giggling into her palms as a cloud of pink blush dust her cheeks.

back in your shared room, the fox hybrid sighs when his eyes fixes on the uncomfortable position you’re in. his arms, trained from wielding his signature bow and climbing sumeru’s terrain, wrap carefully around you, taking care to not jostle you too much as he moves your peacefully snoozing form over to your bed. after he safely tucks you in, he glances towards the desk, or more specifically, the journal that had taken his interest.

…. well, he still has at least five minutes to spare.

𝐟𝐨𝐱 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 #𝟏

✦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛 —

fennex fox hybrid | 𝑣𝑢𝑙𝑝𝑒𝑧 𝑧𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑠 —

‘shrooms, fruits, meats, leaves?? (saw him eat some this one time?? for research?? 𝗂 𝖽𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾)

✦ 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

leaf and flower bookmarks, shade from the sun, mushrooms (not the poisonous ones though), tail grooming (maybe?? saw a special brush on his room one time - need to prove hypothesis 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗄𝖾-𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗒𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆𝖾𝖽??), [𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾]

✦ 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 —

idiots (special note: read more on avidya forest survival guide + resources on sumeru jungle plantations + "𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖽𝗒𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗎𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝖽𝖾" + "𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗅.1 - 𝗏𝗈𝗅.47") (𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗒), loud noises, heavy spices, perfumes

✦ 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 —

standing tall, loose; relaxed.

standing tall, tense; alert - most likely there’s danger nearby. survey the area closely.

a twitch and a freeze and a slow swivel; alertness, observation - the fox hears something and is trying to deduce what he heard.

drooping, continuous swivel; embarrassment? anxiousness? to observe more. cute 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 ���𝗎𝗍𝖾.

a few continuous flicks; itchy ears - most likely he can’t scratch them at the moment. help to scratch his ears. usually will be rewarded by headpats :D 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀

flat against head; refer to 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 section.

✦ 𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 —

upright, loose; relaxed. !!!do not pull!!! 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 (𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗍)

upright, tall and unmoving; alert, aggression - best prepare for a fight.

upright, with ears flat against head; curious - fox is interested in object. will sometimes ignore his surroundings. take care to watch over him and any possible dangers around.

moving about, with ears flat against head; needy 𝗇𝖾𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 - little fox wants scratches and pats, so scratches and pats he shall get <3

swaying softly, sideways; happy, content - note to self: to add fox’s subject of interest to ‘likes’ whenever this happens 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅

swaying softly, up and down; excited - fox does this when he sees squirrels, fellow fox in the wild, or a new unidentified plant

𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝖻𝗃𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗒.

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[kokoya]

i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you (and i)

summary: dating tip? just don't. for celebrities, romantic relationships are absolutely forbidden. the slightest hint of one could ruin your career. but are you even listening to the lecture? doubt it, 'cause you're doing the complete opposite. (alternatively, a celebrity au featuring secret relationships.)

→ featuring: childe, & ayato (you can really tell who my faves are)

→ warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slight cursing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, tension, actual cursing, unreliable reader pov, gender-neutral reader (i apologize if i missed things, i haven't proofread it yet)

→ a/n: so, hi! long time no see? i was pretty stressed with college and well, i'm back! i began writing this last year and finally got the courage to finish it. but here it is and i hope you enjoy it :> please let me know if you like it <3 it really makes my day!

credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts!

beware, lengthy post ahead! more under the cut!

the debut.

“forbidden?” you repeat.

“absolutely forbidden!” your manager says. “a rookie with no fanbase? a scandal will ruin your reputation! you're absolutely forbidden from dating anyone.”

you sigh. he's being too overdramatic.

you will never be in a relationship, you're absolutely sure. how can you? with no time for yourself as it is, dating someone with the limited hours you already have sounds impractical.

besides, you're too busy training and practicing for auditions.

remembering it now, you want to laugh.

i told you so, your thoughts chastise.

god, you should've listened.

childe, the actor

“that's a wrap!” the director cheers.

your eyes glisten as you hold back tears. it's embarrassing, you think. so damn embarrassing.

you've been repeating the same kissing scene multiple times now. obviously, the director cheers for finally completing the take and not because you did a good job.

childe pats your back. “you did great,” he says, with a smile.

but you know the gesture so goddamn well. the same nonchalant cold grin he throws at everyone that he now directs at you? oh, he's angry alright.

for what reason? who knows. you're too busy wallowing in self-despair over how terrible your acting is.

the scene is supposedly simple. it involves the second lead, who happens to be you, confessing their love to the leading man, resulting to a spontaneous kiss.

yet, you're fumbling over the lines, acting so out of character, tripping over set, incorrectly initiating the kiss at awkward angles—the whole time-wasting squander.

“what's going on?” childe eventually asks, once he arrives at your shared apartment. his bag drops to the floor with a flop. “you're acting strange. the entire crew sees it, i see it, the director sees it—what if he decides to fire you? what will you do then?”

you swallow dryly. you left the set early hoping childe's hectic schedule prompted him to forget the whole issue. yet, here he is finally bringing up the conversation after what feels like a month's worth of tension.

as you sit on the sofa chair, your fingers massage the bridge of your nose. breathe in, breathe out. you repeat. don't cry. you try to calm yourself down as a sob tries to break through.

eight months, you've been a couple.

but, there are some things you're afraid to say.

each year, the biggest tabloid newspaper in the country releases an article on celebrity dating scandals. a month ago they released one single page article about a popular actor dating a newbie actress. it barely had any juicy details, just a simple paragraph of a somebody dating a nobody.

yet, it did not end well for them. and you're terrified; for when it could happen to you.

you imagine it. dozens of messages and multiple missed phone calls on your cell as your name becomes the next talk of the town. the headline reads: revealed! a nobody actress, the second-lead from the northland bank saga currently dates the nation's boyfriend, childe!

it terrifies you. you could lose your job. lose what you love doing the most. and you could get tossed aside like an old sweater under someone's bed, left to rot and decompose.

so, yes. you hesitated earlier at set because you don't want anyone to connect the dots. to look at the kiss between you two and notice something amiss. to speculate that there's more to your relationship than what meets the eye. to realize you look at him as more than a co-star. to see how much you're in love with him. to realize the both of you are dating.

“it's not easy.” you say, releasing a sigh.

two years you've been in the business. rookies barely get any roles as it is. being in a well-received rendition of an old romance drama is a once in a blue moon opportunity and you can't risk someone finding out about your relationship.

“camera shy? no—you've kissed heaps of actors for that school drama.”

you mumble, “two people aren't heaps of actors, tartaglia.”

“then what is the problem?”

childe saunters to where you sit. he leans towards you and presses his palm on the head of the sofa, trapping your body between his and the chair. childe's eyes meet yours and you instantly look away.

he knows you well enough to comprehend that look on your face. the way you hide your clammy hands behind you, the manner of your eyes staring only at your feet, how your body tucks itself into the corner of the seat.

“me?” childe whispers.

he places a hand under your jaw. his thumb softly pushes your chin upwards so your eyes meet his.

“why?” he pleads.

“you won't understand.”

“i will if you tell me,” he says, holding your gaze. seeing how you relentlessly persist on keeping your mouth shut, he shakes his head. “oh, please tell me.”

you hesitate. you tell him and then what?

you could say: hey, childe! i'm afraid of our relationship being discovered. i'll be hated by your fans. you'll be constantly drained by my crying and whining. your reputation would take a hit regardless of how popular you are and—and then he'll finally realize how exhausting and annoying it is being with you.

your self-deprecation loves to pull you deeper into its sapping embrace. you're nothing, it mouths. childe would dump you and find some other actor or actress to date. god. it would be so easy. with his popularity, good looks, and charming personality, he'd find a better and talented rising-star the moment he chucks you out the front door.

so, you shake your head firmly.

“tell me, please.” he whispers.

you cross your arms, and look away.

“are you sick?”

you shake your head.

“somebody hurting you on set?”

again, you shake your head.

childe pauses, “...do you have feelings for someone else?”

“no!”

“then what is the damn problem?”

“nothing!” you exasperate, furrowing your brows together.

childe takes your reluctance as distrust and it ignites his irritation. do you not trust him? is he that insignificant to you? what are you hiding? hell, did you fall for the main lead of the show, zhongli? or do you not love him anymore? god, he can feel himself suffocate in resentment.

is he so unimportant that you'd prefer to keep the problem to yourself? it makes his blood boil; how he'd do anything for you, but you'd rather keep it to yourself and suffer alone.

“tell me.” childe scowls as he watches your lips quiver.

you keep your mouth firmly shut.

“fine, hold your tongue.” he sneers, “i understand. i really do, baby. it's not about the cameras, the flashing lights, the audience.”

childe brushes his lips against yours, “you wouldn’t kiss me like that in public, though, would you?” he releases his hold on your chin and his sharp eyes meet yours. “it’s only behind closed doors when you care to act like we’re each other’s.”

with a hooded jacket in one hand and a face mask in another, childe swiftly leaves the apartment with a slam of a door.

leaving you alone with your wretched thoughts.

more under the cut!

despite walking out the flat hours ago, childe still reverberates jealousy and anger; pure envy at how normal you act around everyone else yet, around him you're too guarded; and angry at himself for saying those awful words to your face.

he smacks his forehead on the steering wheel. childe acknowledges how childish he's been acting. you aren't ready to talk, and he shouldn't be forcing you to speak out your difficulties.

surely, the stress is piling up on you. he knows the hours you've been working on set, memorizing lines, practicing moves—again, he thumps his head on the wheel.

stupid, he curses. control your damn temper next time.

he reaches for the box of blueberry cheesecake on the front passenger seat. subconsciously, he drove two hours (and back) to the bakery's main branch as its side branches were sold out of your favorite cake. and he knows how much you love the pastry.

however, his body slouches in the parked car outside the apartment. the long drive works miracles with his anger, but the courage to actually walk inside and apologize never comes.

the ding of a text draws his attention. ‘go inside and beg for forgiveness, brat.’ yoimiya, a fellow actress from the same company as him, says. the woman is always in the loop and well-informed.

a shiver goes down his spine. if you told yoimiya about the argument, he's absolutely sure you're furious. you'd only speak to her as a last-ditch effort; knowing her personality she'd pummel him to bits while you watch.

as a result, he stands inside the apartment, one hand knocking on your bedroom door. however, instead of tasting blood, he hears your stifled sobs. the abrupt sound convinces him to turn the knob and enter the room.

the illumination from the hallway brightens the bedroom, shining a bit of light on your face. you lay on the bed with your knees to your chest, with a blanket over your waist. your reddened cheeks and tear-stained eyes makes his stomach churn.

“please don't cry, baby.” childe cooes, kneeling by your bedside. he leans over you, his fingers gently grip your cheeks. “i'm so sorry.”

the sudden apology sprouts pools from your eyes. his thumbs brush the water off your face and softly says, “i shouldn't have said—please, don't cry. it's my fault for taking my anger out on you.”

“i'm afraid of losing you,” you whimper. ��if they find out—oh god—they'll tear me apart. i'm nothing compared to you. i'd lose everything. i might even lose you—”

“never, i will never leave you. no matter what happens,” childe interjects.

you furrow your brows, sobbing. “i'm no one—too difficult,” you hiccup. “you'll throw me away. i'm too whiny and too draining. if they find out... you'll see all the comments about how ugly—”

“breathe, baby.” he settles himself on your bed and softly places you on his lap. “you're gorgeous. you're not draining, and frankly, you're cute when you whine.”

you bury your face into his neck and continue, “i'm serious, childe. you'll get exhausted. the articles will talk about you too!”

“articles, mhm. they're just articles.” he hums.

irritation begins to set in. was he this clueless? you release another sob, “they're not just articles. they'll nitpick every single thing you do! oh—look at this newbie getting together with childe. oh, they suck at acting! why is childe even—”

childe gently places his palm on your neck, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “are you talking about the tabloid from last month?”

you sigh, “what else am i talking about?” and instantly you sense his laughter resonate. “are you laughing?”

“you're adorable, baby.” he breathes, nuzzling his face on your neck.

“you're making fun of me! what the hell, childe?”

he releases a sigh, pausing his laughter. “the tabloids every month. they're paid. companies pay them to talk about their idols for publicity.”

your face contorts into confusion, “who would willingly—they talked about lumine all month because of the article! you know she's my favorite actress. why would they willingly put her on the spotlight like that?”

“publicity, baby.”

you shake your head, “it makes no sense.”

“oh, it does.” childe hums. “of course, they'd seek permission first. it boosted views for her drama, didn't it? lumine did say she got extra for the views and switched apartments.”

“yeah, wait—you knew this whole time and didn't bother to tell me?”

he chuckles, “that's what you get for keeping these things to yourself for a month.” he squeezes the bridge of your nose.

“you're terrible.”

“love you too, baby.” he teases, “and besides, if a tabloid threatened to do something—” his thumb gently traces the skin around your neck. “—i'll keep you safe.”

a soft smile graces your features. “...i'm just not ready for anyone to find out. yet, anyway.”

childe hums, “we'll do it on your terms, okay? whenever you're ready.”

“sure, i guess you can keep me for a while longer. until you throw me away and find the next rookie to—”

childe's soft laughter sparks a flutter in your stomach. he would never do such a thing. the moment he first laid his eyes on you on set, heard your beautiful laugh between takes, listened to your jokes while practicing lines, and god, seen your angelic smile? the things he would do to keep you as his.

“never.” a cheeky grin appears on his lips, “i'll take care of you.”

bonus: five years later

your phone rings. the vibration continues on and off, signaling multiple inbox messages. you swipe your phone to see texts from several of your close friends.

‘i know you told me you were okay with it, but i didn't think he'd try to do it so soon. i tried but he's too hardheaded.’ says yoimiya.

‘congratulations! when's the wedding? i'm kidding. don't kill childe.’ says thoma, an actor from your same company.

‘sorrows, sorrows, prayers.’ says venti, your current co-star.

you even receive a message from childe himself.

‘good morning, baby. i'm completely fault-free. simply honoring your wishes as a devoted fiancé should.’

attached to a message was a link to a video entitled: please don't kill me honey.

you click the link.

the video's blurry, as if taken by a cellphone. you recognize thoma as the person videoing the whole scene, as he turns the camera to face him before focusing it on a woman—seemingly a fan of childe. she wears merch from his most recent drama.

a fan goes on stage chosen by a random lottery draw. the said fan wins the chance to interview childe, who was the guest of the day for talk show, and ask one question.

the girl hastily walks on stage, holding a microphone given by staff.

“um. hello, childe!”

the audience screams as the huge video screen focuses on your lover's face. he waves a quick ‘hello’ and the crowd yells louder.

the girl hesitates, “are you dating anyone right now?”

childe twists the microphone in his hands. “hm? right now... i'm not dating anyone.”

the crows sighs in relief, utterly happy their favorite leading actor continues to be single.

but you see the outline of a smirk flashing on his face, and you instantly know there's a deeper meaning to that sentence. “but, it's difficult to say... since we're not really dating as of the moment.”

quietly, you hear the voice of yoimiya whispering, “don't do it.” the camera now focusing on her, trying to get herself on stage. thoma flips the camera around to face it on himself, waving a hello, apparently enjoying the drama. he then focuses the camera on the wide screen, featuring childe's face.

to add mayhem into the mix, childe continues, “i don't think being engaged to your partner falls under dating. we're way past that.”

the interview ends with the audience screaming their lungs out in disbelief, while childe's laugh resonates the whole auditorium.

ayato, company director

“oh, them?” ayato's steady gaze meet yours, pressing his lips in a tight-lipped smile. “they're a friend of mine.”

friend. it echoes in your mind, repeating incessantly. friend. friend. friend.

dread creeps into the pit of your stomach akin to a quick flick of a lighter. after all this time, your stomach lurches. is that all he thinks of you?

god, you need a drink.

the businessmen before you smile, prompting you to return the favor. subsequently, you humbly introduce yourself as just an ‘actor in the industry’. and they laugh. of course they do.

who wouldn't know you? a multi award-winning movie and television star with piles of nominations. so modest, they say. so kind, they praise. you grin, the smile not reaching your eyes, thanking them for their compliments.

but you're so accustomed to their fake smiles, ingenuine flattery, and sweet talk; you never truly know what's actually honest and real—eyes flickering to your azure-haired partner—no, who's honest and real.

you swallow the thought down.

as if aware of the invisible daggers thrown his way, ayato's gaze meets yours. his lips are pressed firmly together, eyes devoid of warmth.

not now, his expression conveys.

you narrow your own eyes, irritation burning through your corneas. as much as you want to start an argument in front of his investors, you agree to his silent insistence. after all it's his gala; one he's tirelessly prepared for over several months.

so you bite your tongue and smile: one honed by years of acting—fake yet strangely genuine.

it's not strong enough. you say, sipping wine with shaky hands. earlier, you left ayato to his fellow businessmen using the excuse of needing a bathroom break, a reason to which he obliged.

you stare at the elaborate party before you, wishing you could go home. the gala swiftly dissolved your social battery, aided by forced mingling and bitterness. a friend, your consciousness repeats. always a friend. so you sit on a chair by the wall, sipping drinks like water.

suddenly, the hairs of your neck stand on end. you sense his presence behind you, prompting a glance through your peripheral vision.

“careful, darling.” ayato's says, tone smooth yet laced with warning. “i'd rather not have you collapsing. your lovely face wouldn't compliment these filthy floors.”

you tense immediately, shoulders stiffening. “reverting back to pet names, i see?”

ayato's hand now rests on your shoulder, his thumb brushing your soft skin. “what seems to be the issue? i doubt it's due to the eight glasses of wine you've consumed in one sitting.”

you roll your tongue in your mouth, practicing the words. let's break up. you bite your tongue. let's see other people. besides, he wouldn't care would he? it's not as if he's been acknowledging you as someone he's been dating, has he? hiding your relationship from his business partners is one thing, but concealing it from closest friends? his family? that's an entirely different matter altogether.

a friend, he says to his business partners.

a star from the company, he answers to his closest friends.

a companion, he whispers to his family.

you're sick and tired of it. all of it.

raising the wineglass to your lips, you drown the drink in one go. you raise two fingers signaling the waiter for another drink.

ayato sighs and you think you feel his hand on your neck tighten, ever so slightly. “you've reached your limit with wine, dear.”

soon, the waiter arrives with three more glasses on his tray. ayato's disapproving glare compels the waiter to scurry across the ballroom floor, steering clear of you.

you click your tongue and begin, “who says so?”

“your fiancé,” he mutters, voice dripping with venom.

you immediately scoff. “sure. for your sake, i'll pretend you mentioned that earlier.”

before ayato could retort, the presence of another individual calls his attention; his younger sister, ayaka.

“brother, the sangonomiya heir's requesting your presence.”

he sighs, irritation etching his features. yet, you blink, catching a subtle shift in his expression—seemingly twisting from annoyance to something resembling relief at the mention of sangonomiya's name.

you swallow the bitter thought.

“watch them for me, could you? i'd rather not have them find a server willing to disobey my instructions and serve them a drink,” ayato whispers, his tone betraying a hint of tension that doesn't go unnoticed.

ayaka nods. her consent prompts the older brother to depart, heading towards the misty rose-pink heir who stands at the opposite side of the ballroom.

ayaka says the inevitable, “you should let him know it bothers you.”

“...i'm not sure what you're referring to.”

her gaze follows yours, observing the giggling and cheerful countenances of the kamisato and sangonomiya heirs. they seem to be enjoying their time together. as always, you remark.

“they're just close friends, you know.”

you click your tongue. “like how him and i are just friends?”

ayaka sighs, understanding your implication. “you know what i mean.”

sangonomiya's hand on your partner's shoulder elicits an exasperated sigh from you. “thoma told me they were to be married if i wasn't here.”

“the man always running his mouth—” she takes a calming breath before continuing, “—but brother's very fond of you. i'm his sister, i should know.”

“then how come after dating him for five years, he still calls me his friend.” you pause, a hand sliding into the right pocket of your outfit. you absentmindedly play with the engagement ring inside. “i'm his fiancé, aren't i?”

“he has his reasons. petty reasons.”

you bite your tongue. or he's embarrassed of you.

you met the kamisato company heir two years after your debut as an idol. as you shifted towards acting, you developed a close relationship with his sister, a seasoned actress from the same company. eventually, she became the bridge that strengthened the bond between the two of you.

you dedicated yourself nonstop, evolving from a rookie actor to a multiple-nominee and winning star; all in the pursuit of being able to openly show off your relationship with ayato without it tarnishing your reputation.

however, when you're prepared to finally reveal your relationship, he isn't.

and it leaves you wondering, is there someone else?

you mean, you're hesitant to doubt the love of your life. but considering he's kept your relationship a secret from everyone for years, it's obvious he's adept at keeping things hidden.

even from you.

and the thought sours your mood.

excusing yourself once more to use the restroom, using the premise of consuming ten glasses of wine, you bid adieu to your favorite kamisato (at the moment). you instead head towards a secluded balcony away from prying eyes.

you stare at the garden below. your eyes quickly blink back the tears threatening to fall. not now, you hiss. don't do this to me, not right now.

“i assumed you would have retreated to your room by this point.��� his voice murmurs, unnervingly composed.

you turn around to see your partner holding a glass of wine. his features remain blank, inscrutable.

maybe it's because of all the wine you've been drinking. you can't seem to tell between what's real or not.

“what did you discuss with kokomi?”

“i wasn't aware you were both on a first name basis.”

“answer the question.”

he smiles, “business as always.”

you huff and wrap your hands around your arms. “of course. just business.”

ayato immediately picks up the anger in your tone. he lays his palm on your forearm, gently pulling you towards him. “look at me,” he pleads, with a subtle trace of irritation in his voice.

you turn to look at his face, eyes glaring.

“i felt your glares the entire night.” he begins.

you shrug, smiling innocently. “...what ever do you mean?”

“don't toy with me, darling.”

as he enunciates his answer, it's as if the final thread of your patience snaps. does he still continue to feign innocence and lie to your face?

last month he proposed and you were overjoyed. you then expected a shift in your relationship; the final unveiling of your engagement to the public. you gave him your permission, a definitive “i'm ready for everyone to know.”

yet thirty days later the engagement remains concealed leaving only a few of his friends (thoma) and a few family members (ayaka) knowing about your updated relationship.

if it was the ayato from two years ago, he would be delighted—ecstatic even—to reveal the truth. he might have used the gala today as an avenue to scream to the world, this person and i are in love.

but he didn't.

so the weight of your feelings began to drag you down; it almost feels suffocating in a way. as if a ribbon labeled, he's ashamed, tightly winds around your insides, intricately tying them all together into a sophisticated bow sowing distrust whispering; he's hiding something.

your suspicions, coupled with his frequent visits this month to the sangonomiya estate, fueled your frustration until it erupted. if only he ceased pretending innocent, perhaps you would able to smile through the whole facade.

if only he didn't ask.

“i'm not naive. if you developed feelings for kokomi then you shouldn't have proposed.” you snap. “was it out of pity? did you feel so damn guilty that you chose to go through with the engagement instead of being honest about your feelings?”

ayato furrows his brows, mouth tightening in anger. “what are you talking about? i discuss private affairs with kokomi. business affairs.”

you laugh; one infused with irritation and disbelief. “don't tell me then. keep your stupid secrets.”

“do you want me to jot down a damn list detailing every single thing i do in a day?” he growls. “i won't divulge company secrets just because you feel like throwing a tantrum.”

your hands drift to the tie around his neck, tugging the crooked tie straight. “no. go ahead and keep your secrets.” you pause and roll the words with your tongue, “you're clearly very good at keeping secrets. you’ve kept me—us—as a secret for so long, so of course you’d be good at keeping fucking secrets.”

anger flares across his face. “you desired our relationship to remain a secret, and i respected your wishes.” he sneers, “i wanted to let the damn world know how much i'm in love with you yet, it was the opposite of what you desired.”

ayato releases his grip on you and strides back into the ballroom, but he halts right at the door to the balcony. “so don't dictate when i should reveal the truth simply because you've grown sick and tired of keeping me as your dirty, little secret.”

he finally departs; and you stay, tears pooling, with a profound ache in your heart.

ayato waltzes around the room in a nonchalant dance; yes, good to see you. he lies. how's business? he couldn't care less. enjoy the party! no, he wants everyone in the damn room to feel his wrath.

although he yearns to set the entire ballroom ablaze, ending the party prematurely would be ill-manned of him. so, ayato continues being a gracious and honorable host.

but he feels hollow. he envisions himself freezing the entire room in an icy gust, everyone turning into statues. he wants to sprint back into your arms and plead for you to listen.

he doesn't understand what came over him. why he lost his temper like that. typically, he'd manage your outbursts with composure and understanding. what happened? he doesn't know.

he attributes his outburst to the mounting pressure. the chronic lack of sleep and continuous exhaustion coming from his title as heir. perhaps it's the truth gnawing his skin; despite his powerful position atop the company, it can easily be ripped away with the flick of a wrist.

instead of spending time with his fiancé—he doesn't know if he still deserves to call you that, you probably threw away his ring the second he left the balcony—yet here he is, engaged in conversations with business associates he cares little about.

“brother?” ayaka calls. she finds him leaning against a railing of stairs. “i closed off the gardens.”

ayato swallows. he last saw you sneaking towards the grounds. “they're still on the grass?”

“yes.”

“they'll catch a cold.”

“they will.”

he glances at his sister. “they think i'm unfaithful.”

“i know,” she says matter-of-factly. “have you offered them any evidence to convince them otherwise?”

ayato stays silent.

“i know you care about them, brother.” ayaka sighs, “however, surprising them with a specially crafted ring and being petty when your entire relationship is at stake may not be the wisest move.”

he sighs.

“most especially if they suspect that your frequent visits to the sangonomiya manor are fueled by romantic feelings for its heiress, and not for their own wedding ring.”

after a while, ayato spots you lying on the grass in a starfish formation, having finally swallowed his pride. his eyes glaze over your features: red eyes, cheeks marked with tear stains, and an exhausted expression.

“can we talk?” he begins.

you spare a quick glance before turning your attention back to the night sky. “there's not much to talk about.”

“i'm not cheating,” he asserts.

“i know.”

“do you know, or have you resigned yourself to not knowing?”

“hm,” you hum. “a part of me entertains the thought of you cheating. yet an even smaller part absolutely knows that if you were truly cheating, you'd be more discreet. who, in their right mind, would inform thoma that you visited her manor?”

he chuckles, a laughter-less sound escapes him. “i understand i've been secretive. you have every right to assume i'm up to something indecent. but i have my reasons.” ayato confesses, kneeling beside your body. he places his hand inside his suit pocket, pulling up a black small box.

you instantly sit up. “you're horrible,” you cough, eyes widening as he opens the box to show a ring. “this entire time you were—god.”

“i placed a special order,” he mumbles. “i visited each day to ensure it was flawless, right down to the smallest details.”

“i'm so sorry.”

“don't be, love.” he breathes, “you had your reasons, and i was insistent on keeping it a surprise.”

relief floods your features. “good,” you whisper before tears well in your eyes.

the sound of your sobs breaks his heart. he immediately wraps his arms around you, brushing his lips on your cheeks.

“i'm sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing the skin above your brow. “i'm sorry for worrying you.”

“goddamn sadistic,” you sob. “you knew i was freaking out, but you just watched!”

he grins, “i have to admit, you look cute when you're jealous.”

a groan escapes you. “don't make me throw away both rings.”

“is that so? i should've ordered twenty spares.”

“no.” you scold.

“oh? look at my darling, so jealous,” he smirks, nuzzling his face into your neck. you then feel his lips press into a straight line. “you're not something i would ever try to hide. i would never be ashamed of our relationship.”

you laugh, “prove it.”

your smile faces seeing the smirk on his face. in that exact moment, you know that kamisato ayato, the preposterous god in human flesh, plans to do something grand and explosive to prove you otherwise.

“do not.” you begin, “we've talked about this. you cannot—you absolutely will not bribe the government to declare our wedding date as a national holiday!”

bonus: ten minutes before the clash

“is it getting warm in here, or am i sensing the intense gaze of your loving fiancé on me?” kokomi laughs, sipping a glass of champagne.

ayato takes a peek, and he chuckles upon seeing your irritated and jealous expression. “they certainly are.”

“please do not involve me in your lovers' quarrels. everyone knows we're just close friends.”

“they do.”

“have you told them?”

“...it may have slipped past my mind.”

kokomi shakes her head. “sadistic.” she slips a black box into his palm. “clear it up. i do not want to be murdered by your future partner.”

ayato glances at you from across the room as you engage a conversation with his sister. “mhm, i could, but their jealous expression is too endearing.”

“sadistic,” she repeats. “absolutely sadistic.”

he chuckles.

“also, kazuha mentioned that you've been referring to them as your companion. correct that.” she continues, “and stop calling them your friend!”

“they asked me to when we started dating.”

she rolls her eyes. “you're so petty. stop trying to provoke them!”

“anyways, everyone knows we're engaged,” he corrects. “their whining face is the cutest.”

“sadistic.”

“kokomi?”

she tilts her head and hums, “yes?”

“ever wondered how much it costs to propose a national holiday?”

author’s note: lmao. so in this modern au ayato actually succeeds in turning your wedding date into a national holiday. the government actually appreciates his donation because a.) they always accept goodwilled (lmao) funds and b.) ayato's an important pillar to the gov and they don't want to upset him 'cause petty rich boy tantrums tilt the economy (how sadistic).

so, ayato's the heir of the company where you are employed at as an idol turned actor/actress. kokomi is the heiress to a big jewelry corporation. lmao they were both engaged together when they were like five but they instantly broke it off because well, they both threw five year old tantrums.

plus thoma telling you that they were to be engaged was just a fact he blurted out when you asked about kokomi (he manages to omit the five-year-old part because he's careless + he didn't think it matters because anyone can tell ayato's intensely in love with you)

[kokoya]

It's me again, feel free to ignore this if you're only taking 1 request per person

Congrats on 2k followers ♡

I would like to request, option 1, the reader asking "can I give you a kiss? If you don't like it, you can can return it" with Zoro, Sanji and Luffy (if you can also with Law, Ace and/or Kid)

Thank you in advance, hope you have a lovely day ♡

Nonsense! If you send it in and I like it, I'll write it! This was a fun request too :) I would've done them all if I had the time <3

Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Sanji, Luffy Total word count: 740

Returned Kisses

Zoro

“Zoro!” you sang, skipping across the deck. “I have a question.”

Zoro groaned. Your questions were never as simple as you initially made them out to be. 

“Can I give you a kiss?” you asked, your cheeks turning a cute rose color. “If you don’t like it, I can return it!”

Zoro scowled at you, trying to decipher your strange slew of words. “How do you return a kiss?” he asked. He set down the weights he had been using, trying not to sound too interested. 

“I guess you’ll just have to see!”

His eyes scanned the ship. There was nobody else around. And he had to admit, he was curious how your lips tasted. 

“Make it quick, then.” He sighed, trying to act as if he were apathetic to the whole idea, but his pinkened cheeks did not go overlooked. 

Your lips pressed against his, and he could taste a distinct sugary sweetness Normally he hated sweets, but he found it quite enjoyable upon your lips. 

When you finally pulled away, he quickly wetted his own lips with his tongue, desperate to get another taste. 

“I think I’ll return it,” he said, looking at you. 

“Oh.” Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Not very good then, was-?”

He pushed his lips back against yours with a sort of desperation and hunger that you weren’t expecting, and your mouth fell open in surprise against his. He quickly pushed his tongue past your lips, hungry  for more of your sweetness. 

When he finally pulled away, he shot you a cocky smirk. “Maybe you should try again later. I might not return it next time.”

Sanji

“Sanji!” You opened the swinging door to the kitchen, searching for him. 

“Do you need something, my love?” he asked. “Whatever you want, I will gladly give you.”

“Great!” you smiled. “I was thinking I could give you something, though.”

“Me?” He looked around the room, trying to figure out what you meant. 

“Yeah! I was thinking I could give you a kiss,” you offered. “If you didn’t like it-Sanji!”

The poor cook had collapsed to the ground, sent into shock by your offer. He seemed to be mumbling and babbling words, but you couldn’t make them out. 

You knelt down next to him, pulling his head into your lap to make sure he was okay. 

“Oh, Y/N love,” he whispered, finally coming back to his senses. “I had this strange dream where you offered to kiss me.”

You laughed. “I did offer to kiss you.”

His eyes were suddenly clear now, and very focused on your lips. So you bent down and pressed them against his own. You could hear his breathing become shallow, but you steeled your nerves and stayed there for a moment before you pulled away. 

“If you don’t like it, you can return it,” you whispered. 

Sanji’s eyes were practically hearts as he stared up at you. “Can I still return it even if I did like it?”

You giggled, crinkling your nose as you laughed. “I suppose so.”

“Good!” He reached up and pulled you back down to him, keeping his lips pressed into yours until Luffy ran into the kitchen looking for more food. 

Luffy

“Luffy! Come here!” you called up to the captain. He was in his seat on the figurehead, like always. 

“You come here!” he yelled back. Rubber arms extended towards you and whipped you up next to him. “What’s up?”

“Can I give you a kiss?” you asked. “You can return it if-”

His lips smashed against yours, and you could feel his mouth stretching into a smile. You couldn’t help but smile too, your head foggy with giddiness at his willingness to say yes. 

He finally pulled away from you, his laugh filling the air around you. “That was nice.”

“I was supposed to give you a kiss, Luffy!” You were trying to scold him, but you couldnt wipe that stupid smile off your face. 

“Do you want to give me one?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “You can give me another one!”

You leaned back into another kiss, his arms already wrapped around your neck. He was trying not to be too eager, but once your fingers tangled into his raven locks, he abandoned all common sense and worked to devour as much of you as he could get.

[kokoya]

“We should get married.” 

The question in and of itself is a strange one, made more so for the fact that it’s coming from Zoro of all people – and the fact that he’s asking you in the middle of a fight. Your back is pressed against his, the heat of his skin seeping into your clothes – and you wonder if he’s gotten hit in the head too many times. Or thrown through too many things – too much of something. 

“Are you seriously saying that right now?” Your tone is incredulous as you swing your weapon, scowling as you watch another enemy drop with a cry and a splatter of blood. “We’re a little busy right now, aren’t we?”

Zoro grins, expression manic with the deepened shadows of his face from his bandana, adjusting to place the hilt of Wadou Ichimonji in his mouth. “Is that a yes?”

You have the brief moment of considering knocking Zoro out for your opponent – clearly his daily naps out in the sun have baked his brain more than you previously thought. “No!”

–

The question doesn’t turn out to be borne from a brain-based injury flaring up, because Zoro doesn’t let the subject go. He bides his time, waiting about two weeks from when he first asked before he tries again.

This time, the stars are a witness to his buffoonery – now fueled by the bottles of sake he seems to have squirreled away everywhere on the Thousand Sunny. You watch as he tips the bottle to his lips, the brief shimmer of liquid that beads at his lips before it disappears as he swallows. 

“We should get married,” he says, and this time, you scoff. It isn’t one of disdain, rather of amusement as you wait for the alcohol induced flush to rise to his cheeks. “‘m serious, you know.”

“No,” you counter softly as you scoot closer to him, reaching up to wipe a drop of sake from the corner of his lips and bring it to your own for a taste. As ever, his own choices in alcohol seem to be tailored for him and him alone – sake still isn’t your thing. “You’re drunk.”

Zoro hums, eye flicking from the night sky above to you. “Is that a yes?”

You press your lips to his warm cheek. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”

–

The third time that he asks, he’s waited so long that you’ve almost forgotten that he ever asked in the first place. After all, Roronoa Zoro has never seemed like someone interested in the intimate entanglement of marriage – you have absolutely no clue what has possessed him to suddenly ask you with this kind of tenacity. 

“We should get married,” he says, and you resist the urge to sigh as you stare at him, his head pillowed against your thigh. Below the shade of Nami’s tangerine trees, you can hear Luffy’s bright laughter intermingled with Usopp and Franky’s. 

This time you aren’t in the middle of a fight, nor is he drunk. This time, you take a moment to study his face, the dapple of sunlight through waxy green leaves, the scent of citrus in the air. You love him, you’re sure of that – as sure as you’ve been of anything in your life. 

“We’re pirates,” you answer, tapping your fingers against his cheek in an echoed rhythm of one of Brooke’s songs from the night before. “Pirates don’t get married.”

“Sure they do.” He’s watching you now, with the kind of intensity he usually only reserves for battle, and you look away. “Captains can officiate marriages. I asked Robin about it.”

You blink and let your attention shift to Luffy for a minute – you love your captain, you do. But the idea of him being serious about much of anything beyond what matters to him (food, his crew’s safety, finding the One Piece – in that order) makes you giggle. You can’t imagine him officiating something like a marriage. 

“What if I want a ceremony?” Your fingers find his cropped green hair, stroking gently across his scalp. “Those are expensive.”

He shrugs. “We’d find a way. I’m sure Nami would help.”

Your lips curve in an amused smile for a moment before it dims at the edges. “It’d be dangerous,” you point out, and he answers with a short bark of laughter.

“Not any more than shit we’ve already faced.”

“Rings?”

“We don’t need that fancy stuff.” 

Your smile fades completely, hand stilling in his hair. “Why do you think we should get married?”

There must be an edge to your tone now, because Zoro refocuses on you, all signs of mirth gone. “Because we love each other, right? Sounds like the next logical step.” 

Your gaze hardens. “So you’re asking because you think we should? Or because you want to marry me?” He sits up, and you get to your feet. 

“Is that a no?” he asks, and you pause.

“Ask me again when you figure things out, Zoro.” 

–

“Marry me.” 

This time, his voice is quiet. Soft and vulnerable – for the late hour or the intimacy of his bare skin against yours, you aren’t sure. His hand drifts up and down your back, counting the bumps of your spine over and over. 

You shift against him, face nestled to rest against his chest. “Zoro–” 

“I’ve thought about it,” he cuts you off. “So just be quiet and listen, okay?” You don’t say a word, waiting for him to continue on his own. “I don’t want to marry you just because I think that I should, I want us to get married because you...you mean a lot to me. You’re important to me, and I –” He pauses, struggling. This kind of thing is not Zoro’s forte, you both know that – but after a moment, he resumes. “I don’t see myself being like this with anyone but you. I don’t want to be like this with anyone but you. Just want you.” A moment of silence, hearts beating in tandem. 

You move, adjusting enough that you can look at him properly, the gleam of moonlight against his face. And you kiss him. Slow and sweet, eyes sliding shut as you linger for as long as you can before you pull away. 

“Marry me,” he repeats. 

This time, you don’t squawk at him like he’s crazy. You don’t accuse him of being drunk, don’t deflect him for fear that he’s doing it because he thinks he should, not that he wants to. This time, you smile.

“Yes,” you answer. “I’ll marry you.”

[kokoya]

You burst into the office and slam the door behind you. Ghost jumps from his seat and looks up from the paperwork he’s been filling out. His eyes widen as you sprint towards him.

“What the f-”

“Just play along,” you interject, dragging a chair and plopping down. You grab two sheets of paper from the pile next to him and snatch the first pen within reach.

He keeps staring at you dumbfounded before managing to utter something.

“Can you at least-”

“Nope,” you cut him off while focusing on the papers and nibbling on the pen. “No, can’t do. You need to trust me on this one.”

“Define what ‘this one’ is.” He demands.

“Shhhh,” you hush him, waving your hand dismissively and glancing over your shoulder at the door. “He’s coming.”

“Who’s com-”

The door swings open, and footsteps approach. They settle beside you, and a hand slams on the desk. Ghost looks at the hand, then upward.

“Captain,” he says. “What brings you in-”

“For the love of everything you hold dear, Simon, you better not be involved in any of this,” Price warns. He slams his hand on the desk again and looks at you. “Why were you running away from me?” He asks.

You stare at him with furrowed eyebrows before removing the pen from your mouth.

“I wasn’t running away from you, sir,” you reply, pointing the pen at Ghost. “I was late for my meeting with the lieutenant.”

Price turns towards Ghost, seeking for an appropriate answer. The lieutenant sits up straight on his chair, clasps his hands together and motions with his head towards you.

“Very punctual, this one.” He says.

“Cut the crap, Simon,” Price orders and turns to you. “What were you doing inside Bravo Unit’s barracks last night?”

“Bravo Unit has barracks?” You ask Ghost. He shoots you a side-eye and raises one eyebrow.

“Stop playing dump and answer the question,” Price warns and points at Ghost. “And don’t look at him—he’s not covering for you this time.”

“How about you start from the beginning, boss,” Ghost interjects. “What happened?”

“Someone broke into Bravo Unit’s barracks last night and stole every inch of toilet paper they had,” Price says, looking at you, then turning to Ghost. “And not just toilet paper, mind you! Kitchen rolls and tissues are gone as well.”

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Ghost murmurs, shaking his head. “Such an inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience, Simon?” Price whispers, leaning on the desk. “The entirety of Bravo Unit had to wipe their ass with parchment paper this morning.”

Ghost brings his hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose. He lowers his head and takes deep, laboured breaths. Price is already fuming, so you decide to intervene.

“I was never inside Bravo Unit’s barracks, sir,” You state. “I just happened to walk through it once.”

“Oh, I see, I see—you walked through it once,” Price repeats, nodding. He removes something from his pocket and slams it on the desk.

“The instigator left this behind,” he states, looking back and forth between the two of you.

You and Ghost look at the garment on the desk—it’s a skull balaclava that once belonged to the lieutenant. He gave it to you last Winter since your ears and nose tend to get cold during patrol.

“Now,” Price states, “would you care to brief me on who this belongs to?”

“Hm,” you murmur, setting the pen and papers on the desk. You pick up the mask and start examining it. You look at Ghost, who stares at the mask with his eyeballs threatening to pop out of his face. He shoots you a deathly stare, and you redirect your attention to Price.

“That looks like it must be the lieutenant’s,” you reply, lifting the balaclava next to Ghost’s masked face. “With the skull and all—it’s a perfect match, actually.”

You both turn to Ghost, whose expression has transformed from utter disbelief to an inexplicable calmness.

“Indeed, that looks exactly like the one I lost,” Ghost confirms, taking the mask from you.

“Is it now?” Price asks in a high-pitched voice, tilting his head to the side. “Do me a favour and smell it for me, Riley.”

Ghost does exactly as he’s told. He brings the mask close to his nose, sniffs it, and nods. “Yup,” he confirms. “Smells exactly like me, too.”

Price sighs, takes a bottle from the pocket of his cargo pants and slams it on the desk. “So you want me to believe you use ‘Magnolia Blossom with Moroccan oil’ as a shampoo?” he asks.

“I’ve got dry hair.” Ghost shrugs.

“You should try coconut oil instead,” you suggest to Ghost, “it’s cheaper.”

Price kicks the chair next to you, and you both turn to look at him. He presses his lips together, and a red flush creeps on his neck, threatening to reach his head. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stop him.

“Why did you go through peoples’ stuff without their permission, sir?”

“Oh, I wasn’t going through anyone’s stuff,” Price explains. “You just were dumb enough to ditch the balaclava right behind the barracks. The detection dog picked up on the smell and led us to your stuff—it was a perfect match, just like you said.”

“You had sniffer dogs involved in this?” Ghost asks.

“I had to.” Price replies. “Pair the parchment paper with a day full of training, and Bravo Unit developed the worst rash they had since wearing diapers.”

A chuckle escapes Ghost, and he tries to silence it with his hand. He takes quick gasps of air, and you try to retain your laughter, too.

“Please tell me you’re not laughing!” Price shouts.

“No, boss,” Ghost says and wipes his tears, “It’s just so-”

“-sad,” you say and wipe your eyes as well. “It’s so sad.”

Price looks at you, then at the lieutenant. Now defeated, he sighs and throws his head back, shutting his eyes.

“I’m done with both of you.” He says, lifting his arms and dropping them to his sides. “I expect all toilet papers to be returned today. And as for you, you are responsible for cleaning Bravo’s toilets for the entire month.”

“For the whole month?!” You shout and wince at the idea.

“Be glad I didn’t make you wipe their asses as well.” He shouts as he walks to the door and slams it behind him.

Ghost recovers from the laugh and directs his attention to you. He tries to be serious but his teary eyes betray him.

“That was a hazardous operation you did back there,” he says.

“I didn’t do anything.” You reply, still vouching for your innocence. “But whoever did it taught Bravo Unit not to mess with our thermostats again.”

Ghost shakes his head. “I just happened to walk through the barracks once,” he says, repeating your earlier statement. “What were you thinking? Who walks through barracks?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, shrugging. “Ghosts would be my guess.”

[kokoya]

Hello There - Jon Kent x Reader

Requested by Anon -  hello! i love your works, you are an excelent writer :D! Can i request an one shot were batsis (from fitting in) and jon fall in love? she highkey deserves a fairy tale romance and i think bruce and damian reactions would be very funny haha

Requested by Anon -  I know you basically just finished one big Jon x reader, but do you think could please make another fic or headcannon with him? It could about anything you choose. 👉🏼👈🏼 (P.S. - it’s been said already but I’ll say it again; WILIF is m a s t e r p i e c e ✨)

Author’s Note - This took me a year to write. Happy Holidays!

***

Keep reading

[kokoya]

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I litterally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them!

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in those eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walk away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed, but your actions didn’t; you didn’t let him use your eyes to copy his scars. You couldn’t.

All for him to walk away.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, actually. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hell, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

You think, right now, it’s night. Your candle’s are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment.

You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. And maybe even get back on the path to save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding.

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.”

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. Your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him… “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with something sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours. You realize that even if he is so close… Astarion hesitates to touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized… maybe this was for the better.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands.

All you can do in that moment is cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. Of course, the last time he walked away from you he didn’t return…

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, trusting Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, taking the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair,” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let his work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely to your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He truly was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion let you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watched as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. With the morning light, they could only stare at one another a moment.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turned from Karlach, and brushed some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shaodowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkable polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

[kokoya]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color.  You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly.  You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

[kokoya]

The Sunwalker's Gift

Synopsis: Legends say those who were cursed to live in the shadows are not lost. There is a ring, a ring of incredible power that allows its vampiric wearer to walk in the sun once more. If there is one thing you know, it is that Astarion—your partner, your lover—deserves to own this ring more than anyone. You put yourself in great danger to acquire it for him without his knowledge but in the end, you succeed. So now, what magical piece of jewellery would be more suitable to propose to the vampire spawn you want to spend the rest of your life with than this one?

A/N: Who’s the goose that’s on the loose…

Words: 1694 Warnings: so much fluff, mentions of smut, SPOILERS FOR ACT 3

Blood, tears, sweat, another suicide mission. The rusty ring in your hand almost appeared as if it hadn’t been worth it to risk your neck and sanity for it but appearances were deceptive. This unassuming piece of jewellery in your hand held the answer to Astarion’s prayers. The very object that had made this long and exhausting search so rewarding in the end.

He didn’t know about it yet. He had no idea you’d had a lead with this legendary object at all. And after months of relentless and disappointing searches, Astarion had all but decided the ring was just another myth created to mock him in his misery… to the very point you had begun to doubt your decision to stop him from finishing Cazador’s work and letting him ascend.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head to chase the thought away. No. Walking in the sun was not worth spoiling his mind, his very soul—regardless of the fact you would have never left his side. You’d decided that the night he had confessed his feelings for you. This man was to be yours, forever.

Now you’d give this ring a little bit of polishing, and a bath in vinegar and soap and then you were certain it would look as good as new. You couldn’t wait to see the look on his face, to see the first moment he slid it on his finger and stepped back into the daylight without tadpoles and sacrificed souls. Nervousness washed over you when you pictured your plan in your head but there was no doubt—only excitement and impatience.

Today would change his life for the better. Perhaps one day, if he so wished, you would even find a way to cure his vampirism altogether but for now, you wanted him to have this gift.

Your shared bedroom was empty, the sheets unmade and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. You were still getting used to the nocturnal lifestyle, of course. Staying up with him all night and sleeping during the day was messing with your inner body clock but it was a small price to pay to be with him.

The wooden door leading out to the balcony was open, the barest hint of light pouring through the gap. You approached it on bare feet, the hinges creaking when you pushed the door open further.

“There you are,” he mused without turning around. Astarion was leaning against the metal railing of the balcony, staring into the darkness. A few torches here and there lit the still-sleeping city as the sun began to crawl up from behind the hills, the chirping birds urging it on to start the morning. He truly was a sight to behold—shirtless and pale, even with the everlasting scars Cazador had inflicted on his back, you were overcome with the urge to drag him back to bed and have your way with him in an instant. You did that a lot these days—giving him pleasure upon pleasure without asking for anything in return. Astarion had learned in a rather rewarding way what your mouth and tongue could do for him. Teaching him to be intimate with you in a both consensual and sensual way was a task you were happy to pursue.

You hummed in response, walking up to him to sling your arms around his middle from behind, the ring hidden in the pocket of your morning robe. You pressed the side of your face against his back, his cold skin cooling your heated cheek.

He had been doing this a lot lately. Dragging out the final moments of the night, catching a glimpse of the sun and Baldur’s Gate below him before retreating to the shadows again to ensure his own survival. No more. You sighed.

“What is it, darling?”

“Nothing… I just… love you.”

Astarion chuckled—a barely audible sound coating your heart like sweet honey. At last, he turned around to face, your arms still wrapped around him. You had to look up to meet those crimson-red eyes and the gentle smile tugging on his lips.

“I love you too.”

“I don’t ever want to be apart from you again, my love.”

“Nor I from you,” he purred. His smile was gentle, genuine. You’d fought hard to make him drop that wall of feigned confidence and reveal the real feelings lying underneath. Now, you couldn’t get enough of it. “Let’s head back inside. I’m starting to feel… warm.”

“Just a moment, please.”

The vampire spawn raised his eyebrows but waited nonetheless.

“You said forever,” you went on, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yes?” He dragged the word out and smirked, reciprocating your hug now; his palms resting against your waist. His closeness calmed your nerves, encouraging you without him knowing.

“I… I want forever to start now. I want us to belong to each other and I want everyone to know.”

“Oh my… you’re feeling quite poetic today, my sweet. I don’t object.”

The first sunbeams hit the stone floor of the balcony upon his playful teasing and you could tell that he was getting nervous, eager to flee to the bedroom to avoid the angry burns he expected any moment now.

With a deep breath, you freed yourself from his embrace and took a step back to get down on one knee. It was then you saw the surprise dominating his beautiful face, his lips parting. Determined, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the shiny ring, holding it out to him.

“Astarion Ancunín… will you make me the happiest woman of Faerûn and marry me?”

It took him a heartbeat to remember how to draw oxygen himself, it seemed. He muttered your name under his breath, red eyes fixed on the plain but powerful ring in your hands. He didn’t recognise it, of course, didn’t expect it to be what it was. He had no reason to believe that this unimpressive piece of jewellery was about to return something to him which should have never been taken in the first place.

“Marry you?” he repeated, almost unbelieving. “I… I do, love. I want… yes.”

Yes. You smiled, the weight of uncertainty falling from your shoulders at once. You took his hand in his, sliding the ring on his finger and rose to your feet again, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him.

Astarion melted into your affectionate treatment without hesitation, yet you could tell he was holding back. Uneasy, he pulled away.

“Darling, as much as I would like to savour this moment, could we celebrate our engagement inside?” He glanced at the sun rising higher and higher. Any second now the balcony would be fully submerged in its warm light.

Instead of responding to his plea, however, you only smiled at him. You were certain this would work—you had seen the ring in action after all, made sure it was safe before you took it to your love. You had met up with Dalyria, one of Astarion’s spawn siblings, in secret, only two days ago for this exact reason and she had volunteered to try the effects of the ring—saying it was the least she could do in return after Astarion had freed them.

“I need to get inside!” You reached for his hands when he panicked, holding him in place. Only seconds later, you were both drowned in the soft morning sunlight.

Astarion squeezed his eyes shut and flinched, expecting the burn and the pain the day brought him—but nothing happened. He remained standing, the sunbeams warming his skin.

“What… what is… how is this possible?” he breathed out.

“The Sunwalker’s Gift. It’s the ring, Astarion.”

His red eyes widened, disbelief swinging in his smooth voice as he looked down on his ring-clad finger to admire the shining piece of jewellery reflecting the sunlight. “But… but how? How did you get it?”

“The mage we found and spoke to contacted me a few weeks back. He put me in touch with a bard who meddled with vampires before—two of which, after a couple of pints, revealed that the ring was every vampire’s secret dream and rumoured to have been buried with a deceased vampire lord in the lands north of Rivington a couple of centuries ago. After that, the mage and I returned to do more research and discovered where his tomb is located.”

“And you went to this tomb… alone? Have you lost your mind? Gods, anything could have happened to you!” He was trying his best to be upset, truly. You had to hold back a giggle when his voice went a little high-pitched. It was flattering knowing that the only person this gorgeous man had ever truly shown honest concern for was you.

“I wasn’t alone, I promise. I had help. Halsin and Gale accompanied me.”

“Halsin I can understand. But… Gale?” He pretended to gag, eliciting another childish giggle from you. But then, his tone became more serious once again.

“You did this for me… I…” The very hint of an embarrassed laugh clung to his words. “I’m not sure I even deserve you.”

“You do. I love you. And you’re stuck with me now. You just agreed to be my husband, remember?”

“How could I?” Astarion muttered your name again. There was admiration and affection as it left his lips like a prayer. You had no doubt that part of him was still processing what this engagement ring really meant. It was too early still for joyous screams and running across the flower fields hand in hand. “Thank you. This is… I did not dare dream of this and yet you continue to surprise me. I just… thank you, my love.”

You nodded. “I told you all I want is for you to be happy. I would have turned every single rock in Faerûn to find this ring for you. Now come on. We have a long day ahead of us and a wedding to plan.”

Astarion smirked, his red eyes sparkling with joy, relief and affection. “Darling… there is nothing I’d like more.”

A/N: I am so crazy for him this is abnormal even for me. I'LL BE GETTING A GROUP PHOTO WITH THE WHOLE MAIN CAST AT MCM, I'M SO HYPED!

[kokoya]

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 & 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

pairing: neuvillette x gn!reader summary: the melusines are on a mission, you just don't know what their end goal is. (hint: it's to get you and neuvillette together). furina may or may not be involved. genre: fluff notes: pls ignore the fact that melusines live in the water when it gets to the rain. i just thought it'd be a cute scene and i forgot that they would be fine in the water. we can pretend they just don't want to get their uniform wet. i'm also not sure if the cafe serves tea bc i know they sell coffee beans oops. wc: ~3.6k

A huff escapes you as you approach the doors to the Palais Mermonia, late for work and stumbling slightly as you reached for the handle.

"Please wait! Can you open the door for me?"

You pause when you hear Liath calling after you, and you turn to see the Melusine hurrying towards you. She's carrying two boxes in her hands, making it impossible for you to see her face until she comes to a stop next to you.

"Liath!" you gasp, holding open the door with your foot as you reach for one of the boxes. "Let me help you with that."

"Thank you! They are pretty heavy," she chimes, proceeding to stack the other box on top of the one you're currently holding. You're taken aback by her actions, giving her a confused look as she looks up at you and smiles. "I hope you don't mind dropping those off to Monsieur Neuvillette. I have some other duties to fulfill!"

Your eyes soften at her words, and you nod in agreement before shifting the boxes, making sure you have a good grip on them. The lid on the top box is askew, giving you a glimpse of some court documents sitting inside. You quickly fix the lid, glancing over at Liath to see her standing by the door, hands behind her back as she hums to herself. Your brows furrow when you notice that she doesn't make a move to leave, and you can't help but feel confused about her abnormal behavior.

"You should go before it gets too late in the afternoon to complete your other duties," you say softly, earning a confused look from Liath.

"What other duties?" she asks, a hand coming up to her cheek as she gets lost in thought. She gasps softly before meeting your gaze, her hand dropping to her side as she took a step back. "Oh! Yes, you're right. Thank you for bringing those to Monsieur Neuvillette. Bye!"

You watch Liath skip away, following her usual path around the Palais Mermonia. There's still a confused look on your face, and you merely shake your head before nudging the door open even further with your foot. You're still thinking about Liath's weird behavior when Sedene greets you.

"Good morning, Sedene," you greet in return, giving the Melusine a soft smile. "Is Neuvillette back yet?"

"Yes! He's been waiting for you!"

A stressed look appears on your face, and Sedene's eyes widen slightly as you glance towards Neuvillette's office.

"He has?" you ask, earning a nod from the Melusine in return. "Oh. I guess he really wants these court records huh? I hope he isn't too upset that I'm late."

"No, no," Sedene says, shaking her head back in forth to emphasize her words. She gives you a soft smile. "He's waiting for you, not the court records."

"Me?"

Sedene nods, and you can only hum in response before giving her a small nod and walking away. You pause as you reach the doors to Neuvillette's office, shifting the boxes so that they rest on your hip before raising a hand to knock.

"Come in."

"Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette," you say as you slip into his office and shut the door behind you. Your head is slightly bowed down, the respectful gesture preventing you from seeing the way Neuvillette frowns at your words.

"Good morning," he says, setting his plume down before looking up at you. "I've told you multiple times already, there's no need to be so formal. 'Neuvillette' is perfectly fine."

"Pardon me, sir—" you pause when you notice the look on his face. "Pardon me, Neuvillette. I suppose I'm just not used to addressing my higher up that casually just yet."

"Higher up," Neuvillette scoffs, dipping the plume into a pot of ink before writing something down. "That's incorrect. We are equals, are we not?"

"The job description quite literally said 'assistant to the Iudex'," you tease, causing Neuvillette to pause. There's a small smile on your face when he looks at you, and he finds himself clearing his throat before responding.

"We both know you're more than a simple assistant, don't we? I got lucky considering you're ridiculously overqualified."

You deliberately refuse to respond, your heart beating just a little bit faster as you fully process Neuvillette's words. Instead, you glance at the boxes still in your hand, approaching his desk and clearing your throat to get his attention before you speak.

"Here are the court records you asked for. Should I just leave them on your desk?"

Neuvillette nods before giving you a confused look, his eyebrows furrowing as he shifts his gaze down to the boxes in your hands.

"Did something happen to Liath?" Neuvillette asks. Your heart warms at the concern on his face.

"No," you reply, shaking your head softly as you set the boxes down on his desk. "She mentioned she had some other duties to take care of."

"Ah, I was not aware she had any other duties," Neuvillette says, looking down at his desk. You pause at his words. "Perhaps I should have a talk with her and see if there's something bothering her?"

"I'm almost certain she's fine," you respond, unable to stop a smile from appearing on your face. Neuvillette is still lost in thought, wondering how to approach the Melusine. "Perhaps just make sure she's getting enough rest?"

Neuvillette looks up at you, nodding once before picking up his plume once again. "You're right. I'm certain she would've come to me directly if there was a problem. I'll make sure to speak with her later."

You nod at his words, bowing slightly before making your way back to his office doors. "If you'll excuse me, I must be on my way."

"You're not working in here today?" Neuvillette asks, sitting up even straighter as he watches you.

"I apologize Neuvillette," you say, smiling sheepishly before tugging the door open. "I'm afraid that Lady Furina requested my help for the day. I'll be back later to make sure everything is ready to go for tomorrow!"

Neuvillette nods, and he feels the paper on his desk rip slightly as he digs his plume into it. He slides the paper aside, grabbing a new one before speaking once more.

"I see. Tell her I said hello. Remember that tomorrow we meet directly at the Opera Epiclese, not here."

"Yes, I understand. Have a good day, sir," you say, giving him a wide grin before scurrying out of his office. You're gone before he can scold you for addressing him formally, the tapping of your shoes fading quickly as you rush off.

He wonders if there's a reason that Furina has suddenly decided to steal you from him. He decides not to think about it too much.

The tapping of your shoes is drowned out by the rain as you approach the Opera Epiclese.

You silently pat yourself on the back for remembering your umbrella, and you quickly sidestep a puddle before you hurry towards the Fountain of Lucine, stopping when you Veleda huddled next one of the trees nearby.

"Veleda!" you yell, gaining the attention of the Melusine. You wave her over, concern all over your face as you angle your umbrella to shield the both of you from the rain. "What happened? Did you forget your umbrella?"

The Melusine nods before shaking her head, trying to get rid of the excess water in her hair.

"Do you want to come inside with me?" you ask softly, holding out your hand. Veleda shakes her head again.

"No, I have to stay out here and finish my rounds!"

You bend down slightly, placing the handle of your umbrella in her hand before straightening up.

"Take mine. I won't really need it inside," you say, earning a smile from Veleda.

"Thank you! I really appreciate it."

You smile back at Veleda, reaching down to brush a strand of wet hair from her face before walking off. You hurry past the fountain, holding your bag tightly against you in hopes of keeping it dry. Aeife opens the door for you with a smile, and you quickly thank her before rushing inside, being met with smiles from Trow and Blathine.

"Oh no! Did you leave your umbrella at home?" Trow asks, tilting her head as she observes you. There's a trail of water behind you, and you cringe when you realize that you must look like a mess.

"No," you reply, shedding your coat and holding it away from you as it drips. "I lent it to Veleda. She was standing outside in the rain and she didn't want to come inside."

Blathine nods at your words, and it's only then that you notice the two umbrellas in her hands. "We had to finish our rounds but we got caught in the rain. That's why I came in to get umbrellas for both of us!"

"Oh, I didn't know that," you say slowly, watching as Blathine skips to the door. She's gone before you can even ask for the extra umbrella, and you can only hope that it's not raining by the time the trial is over.

"I can take that from you," Trow says softly. "You can head on in. Monsieur Neuvillette is waiting for you. Lady Furina will not be joining today."

You nod and hurry into the main room, grabbing your paper, plume, and a small pot of ink from your bag. Neuvillette watches you as you slide into your usual seat, eyebrows furrowing at your lack of coat and umbrella. It's common knowledge that it tends to rain during trials, and he wonders if you've had a bad morning.

The trial passes by quickly, and your page is filled with notes by the time it's over. Neuvillette looks down towards you and nods, silently letting you know that you should wait for him. You give him a small nod in return, quickly packing up your stuff and heading to the exit.

Neuvillette is already waiting for you by the time you reach the front desk, listening to Trow as she speaks softly to him. You approach them with a smile, digging out your notes once again and passing them to Neuvillette.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Trow," you say, smiling at the Melusine and receiving a fond look in return. "Here are the notes from today's trial, Neuvillette."

"Thank you," he says, taking them from you and putting them away. "I always enjoy reading your notes at the end of a long day."

"Now that that the trial is over, you should go get some food," Trow suggest, waving the two of you towards the door. She pauses briefly, returning to the desk to grab your coat. "Here's your coat. I'm sorry, it's still a little damp."

"That's okay, Trow. A little rain won't bother me," you say, smiling gratefully as you slip it on.

"Did you not bring an umbrella today?" Neuvillette asks, watching as you tighten the tie of your coat around your waist.

"I lent it to Veleda," you say, repeating your words from earlier. You smile sheepishly as he fixes you with an unreadable look, pulling your bag up higher on your shoulder as Trow nods along. "I didn't want her to get sick. Oh! But I noticed Blathine taking an umbrella out to her. Trow, did they bring my umbrella back in here by chance?"

"No, they haven't been inside since," Trow says, shaking her head.

"We can share," Neuvillette states. His tone leaves no room for arguments and you simply nod, keeping you mouth shut to stop yourself from objecting.

"That's a great idea!" Trow exclaims, clapping her hands at his words. Neuvillette smiles softly at her before offering you his arm. "I'm not too hungry, but I'd like to join you for tea, if that's okay?"

You nod silently, linking your arm with his and gently resting your hand on his upper arm. The two of you say your goodbyes to Trow, receiving an enthusiastic wave in return before you walk out the door. Neuvillette holds his umbrella out, swiftly opening it and making sure it covers the two of you before descending the steps of the Opera Epiclese.

The rain hits the umbrella with soft thuds, and you shake your other arm to try and get rid of the stray droplets that dot your sleeve. Neuvillette notices the action, and he simply brings his arm closer to his side, pulling you in and making sure you're completely shielded.

"M-Maybe we can pick something up and eat back at the Palais Mermonia," you suggest, hoping that he didn't notice your stutter. He smiles down at you, and your mouth goes dry as you try to ignore the way your heart races at the sight. You glance down at your shoes, frowning slightly when you step over a large puddle. "It doesn't look like the rain is going to stop anytime soon."

The walk to the aquabus station is relatively quick, and the two of you stand huddled close together as you wait for it to arrive. You're greeted by a happy Elphane, who seems excited to see Neuvillette waiting for the aquabus. She greets him with a grin before waving shyly at you, a small umbrella clutched in her hand in an attempt to keep her uniform dry.

The aquabus ride is filled with casual conversation, and Neuvillette takes the time to ask Elphane if there's anything bothering her or any of the other Melusines. He receives nothing but smiles and reassurances in return, and you can feel him relax at her words. The two of you wave goodbye to Elphane as you disembark, making your way towards the Café Lucerne in search of food and a hot drink.

"I can order for the both of us," you say once you're close enough. The two of you stop underneath one of the cafe's umbrellas and you finally step away from Neuvillette. "Is there a certain type of tea you'd like?"

"You can choose for me," Neuvillette replies smoothly, pressing the umbrella handle into one of your hands and a small pouch full of mora into the other. "I trust your judgement. Besides, Menthe has spoken about how good you are at choosing teas she likes. I'm sure you can do the same for me."

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, and you silently look around for the Melusine he mentioned, knowing better than to argue about the mora. "Menthe isn't around today, is she? I hope she finally got around to taking a rest."

"I hope so as well," Neuvillette agrees. There's a moment of silence before you spin on the heel of your foot, leaving him behind as you go up to the counter to order. You order your favorite tea, conch madeleines, and two servings of ile flottante, swiftly handing over the right amount of mora before returning to Neuvillette's side. He wastes no time before taking the bag of food from you, using his free hand to gently take back his umbrella before offering you his arm once more. You shyly slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, letting him guide you towards the Palais Mermonia.

"I ended up ordering my favorite kind of tea," you say eventually, breaking the silence. "It's a white tea with notes of peach and ginger."

"That sounds lovely," Neuvillette responds. "It's seems very fitting. A lovely tea for an equally lovely person."

You can't stop the grin that breaks onto your face at his words, and you glance at him bashfully only to find him already looking at you. There's a tiny small on his face as you meet his gaze, his eyes soft as he observes your reaction.

The rain falling around you comes to a stop.

"Oh look! The rain has finally stopped," you remark, looking around you as you approach the Palais Mermona. Neuvillette hums in acknowledgement as he shuts his umbrella, making no move to separate himself from you. "That's good."

"Do you not like the rain?" Neuvillette asks, turning his head to look at you. You shake your head.

"No, that's not it," you say, lost in thought as you speak. "It just reminds me of something that Lyney's brother told me once."

At Neuvillette's questioning gaze, you continue.

"He said that when it rains, it's because the hydro dragon is crying," you explain, laughing lightly to yourself. "Maybe it's only a children's story, but I don't like the thought of the hydro dragon crying. I think he deserves to be happy."

You turn to see Neuvillette staring at you with an unreadable look, his eyes shining as he hums.

"I think I agree."

"There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you."

The two of you look up, arms still linked together, to see Furina standing near the front desk. Her hands are on her hips, nose turned up as she taps her foot. You suppress a smile at the sight, instead deciding to greet the Archon.

"Lady Furina," you say, bowing to her before straightening up. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I need you to help me finish what we were doing yesterday," she states, hesitating slightly before sniffling. "Please."

"Yes, of cou—"

"Actually we were just about to have lunch together," Neuvillette says, sending you an apologetic look for his interruption. Furina scoffs, half-heartedly glaring at Neuvillette before crossing her arms.

"Fine!" she concedes, turning her back to the two of you before sending you a glance. "I guess you can come find me when you're done."

She starts to walk away, only to stop when Sedene speaks.

"Lady Furina?"

Furina turns, nodding at the Melusine in acknowledgement.

"If it's not a problem, perhaps I can help you," Sedene continues, smiling softly up at the Archon. "That way we don't cut their lunch date short."

There's silence as Furina sends a sly glance your way, her eyes taking note of the way the two of you are still arm-in-arm. She nods in agreement, walking off complaint.

"You're right. Come find me in a few minutes, Sedene."

The three of you watch Furina stalk away, and you're only snapped out of your daze when Sedene tugs at your coat.

"I can take that for you," she says, and you finally let go of Neuvillette to slide your arms out of the coat. Before you can thank her, she's ushering the two of you towards Neuvillette's office, wishing you a happy meal and shutting the door swiftly as she leaves.

A chuckles leaves your lips as you approach Neuvillette's desk, sliding into the seat across from him as he clears off the table. He unpacks the food carefully, making sure to spread them out before walking over to grab a tea set.

"Forgive me if I'm being too bold," you start, reaching over for the tea you had bought and placing it into the tea pot. You carefully fill up the two teacups, relaxing in your seat after you swipe a conch madeleine off another plate. "But it seems like the Melusines have been acting a bit suspicious lately. I think they might be trying to set us up."

You wait for Neuvillette to wave your words off, but instead you're met with a sharp inhale, a slight hint of pink tinting the tips of his ears. He straightens up in his seat, rearranging the plates on the table as he tries to gather his thoughts.

"Ah, yes," he finally says, clearing his throat before glancing at you. He averts his gaze immediately, choosing to bring his teacup up to his lips instead. He takes a sip before setting it back down, taking his time before finally looking up to meet your eyes. "Forgive me, I believe it's all my fault. You see, I may have let it slip to Sedene that you looked beautiful on a few occasions."

"Oh," you breathe, your eyes widening at Neuvillette's confession. You're frozen in your seat, trying to think of what to say when his eyes widen slightly.

"As I said, please forgive me," he says hurriedly. "I'll ensure this behavior stops immediately and I can discuss your transfer from my office to Lady Furina's if you'd like."

"No!" you say, wincing when you realize your words are louder than you meant them to be. You pause, looking down and clamping your mouth shut. You compose yourself before continuing. "I mean, um, you're quite handsome yourself, you know?"

You look up to meet Neuvillette's gaze, your breath hitching when you see the soft smile on his face. There's an equally soft look in his eyes as he observes you, and he nods to himself before taking another sip of tea.

"In light of this revelation, I would like to ask you if you'd do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner sometime this week," Neuvillette proposes, the smile on his face growing as you nod.

"I'd love to."

The two of you turn when you hear a soft slam, the receding footsteps letting you know that Sedene had returned to eavesdrop. You giggle at the situation, turning back to see Neuvillette staring at the door with a fond look in his eye.

"Something tells me she's going to go tell everyone what just happened," you say, earning a soft chuckle from Neuvillette.

"I get the feeling they've been plotting this for quite some time," Neuvillette admits. "There's been too many coincidences to count."

You hum in agreement, thinking about all the weird behavior the Melusines had been exhibiting lately. Without them, none of this would have happened, and you let out a soft laugh as you realize just how obvious they had been. Your giggle draws Neuvillette's attention back to you, and the two of you share another soft smile as you begin to dig into your food.

"I guess we'll have to thank them then."

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

[kokoya]

the things we [didn't] forget about

om boys x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : angst, hurt-comfort, depictions of lesson 16, non-detailed panic attack+ptsd

synopsis : Even things locked away and forgotten can be remembered by the body that experienced it

It all happened so sudden. But terror can do that to a person. 

Terror is cold and dark and it curls around someone like a viper; encasing their ankles so they can’t run, slithering up their legs to squeeze at their abdomen so hard it feels like they’re going to be sick, winding around and around their chest so tight they can’t breathe, and even tighter around their neck so every cry for help is lodged inside. 

Terror doesn’t end there, either. It festers inside of them, flowing through their veins and arteries— ice cold so they begin to shiver, though their bodies are confused when they begin to sweat from the panic. 

And suddenly, that viper unravels, bringing every feeling rushing back to that person all at once- so fast it sends their mind crashing to figure out exactly what is happening and what they’re really feeling and what’s actually real and are they even safe— 

It was only a couple seconds. Only a couple seconds where the body freezes up and this domino effect of emotions lines up before tipping into a hysterical reaction.  It’s overwhelming; and that’s when the sound comes out.

Mephisto had simply thrown a tape measure over your head from behind, swiftly and casually pulling it taut around your neck to get your measurements for the choker that would be going with your festival outfit. 

Yet no matter how gentle his actions were, no matter how non-restricting the tape measure was, the feeling hurdled you right back to that night. 

The night of your death. The night Belphie killed you. 

And you let out a blood curdling scream. 

The common room around you melted into the attic, the thin measuring tape being replaced by Belphie’s tail slyly sliding around your neck from behind before tightening and crushing your windpipe. 

You knew it wasn’t real. You’d moved past that night, forgiven Belphie, made amends. The nightmares ended, the anxiety of being close to the sloth demon became none— you had overcome the incident. 

But as you tripped backwards over your own two feet, screaming and crying and scrambling even further back, you think that maybe you hadn’t forgotten. Maybe you’d just buried it deep, deep down, not wanting to ever think of it again; the memory was still there, however. Still in full color with full intensity. 

For a moment, the others might’ve been confused. Scared, worried, startled. But when your hands shot up to check over your throat, fingers poking and prodding at the skin to make sure everything was still as it should be, they knew.

†

Lucifer, for the first time, doesn’t think about his actions as he moves, covering your body with his own as his wings shield you from your surroundings. His feet moved on their own, body driven by the sole instinct- the need- to just protect you. Even if there was nothing to physically protect you from, even if he couldn’t reach into your mind and just erase the bad memories, he shields you with his body because he wants you to know he’s there. He’s there and he’s not going to let anything past him until you’re ready because you are all that’s on his mind right now, all that’s at the forefront of his heart right now, and so he’ll stay right there on the floor with you pressed against him like glue for as long as you want; even when your cries stop and you relax in his hold, he won’t move until you’re ready to get up. His fingers brush away hair from your face, cradling your cheeks as he keeps you hidden away in his wings, feathers brushing over your skin softly every time exhales. He’s not going anywhere, this, he can promise.

Mammon was by your side in an instant, arms winding around you comfortingly to pull you into his lap, cradling you so gently and so softly. He forces his scent to envelop you, for his voice to be the only one you hear, for his warmth to seep into your skin until you’re able to look up at him with swollen eyes. He’s drying all your tears, cooing sweet nothings because dammit, he couldn’t protect you when it actually happened, so he’s sure as hell going to protect you now. His fingers caress your neck, soothing over the red lines you caused, tapping almost playfully over your pulse point; his voice comes out unusually soft and sweet as he pours out his heart in hopes that it’ll drown out the darkness you’re facing. He loves you so fucking much, you know? He’d do anything for you. Anything and everything, and he’s never going to leave your side, and he’s always going to try and protect you. He swears. 

Levi has the immediate instinct to run and hide, but as he listens to your cries and watches you frantically make sure your neck isn't broken, the instinct changes to wanting to run and hide with you wrapped safely in his arms. His tail curls around you, replacing the discomfort of terror, and instead making you feel protected— he might not be confident in himself, especially when he couldn’t do anything to help you last time, but he’s confident in his love for you and that makes his eyes flare in determination. Swiftly, he’ll lift you with his tail and pull you into his arms and just take you away to the safety of his bathtub-bed; here, he can protect you. Here, you can feel safe with just him and the porcelain tub wall pressed against you. Here, he can hide you away and not let anyone come through that door until you’re ready. Here- right now- he can protect you, and until you’re ready, he won’t move an inch. 

Satan is startled, as he’s used to you being the calm one while he has outbursts— he has no idea what to do at first when you begin crying, and that makes him so angry because he should know how to comfort you. But how does someone comfort a person who’s having flashbacks from when they died? With careful steps and raised hands, like he’s trying not to spook a cat, he approaches you and whispers your name as a question, scrambling to wrap you in his arms once you reach out for him. He still doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say- what to even think- so almost absentmindedly, he’ll begin reading you his favorite book aloud from just memory alone. He doesn’t know how many chapters in he gets, but he does know that once you begin to relax in his arms, he’s relaxing himself because this, now, is familiar territory but even when it’s not, he’s never going to leave you alone. Ever. 

Asmo immediately begins fretting over your poor swollen eyes and blotchy red cheeks, trying to hide away his panic so he can focus on you instead. He gently dabs at your face with his silk handkerchief, citing off as many positive uses for it before he’s at a loss when the small squared fabric is completely soaked and you’re still crying. He’ll get unusually quiet after that, clamoring his way into your lap so he can wrap as much of his body around you as he can; this is his way of protecting you. Of letting you know that no one is going to hurt you again if he’s here- they’ll have to go right through him first…you shouldn’t cry, you know? But if it’ll make you feel better when you’re done, just let it out, and he’ll be happy to pamper you afterwards! He might not know exactly what to do right now, but he’ll be here anyway. Just for you, always for you. 

Beel is frozen, unable to move as he just stares at the sight of you breaking down with wide eyes; he was there. He remembers vividly what happened, but he also knew that everyone had moved past it in some way— but seeing you like this after so long? …Slowly, maybe as to not startle you- or maybe because he’s scared himself- he lowers himself to the floor beside you and ushers you in his lap. He might not know what to say or do, but he knows how to silently comfort, and that’s exactly what he does as he absentmindedly rocks you back and forth, quietly offering you bites of his snack as you start calming down. He might not be as vocal as some of his other brothers, but his love speaks volumes through the silence, and he just loves you so much. He rests his head on top of yours and promises he’ll always be there for you. . .and, quietly so no one else can hear, he apologizes for not being there that night. Apologizes for not being quick enough, for not knowing something was wrong, for letting his twin spiral so much out of control that he snapped…he’s so sorry. But he’ll be there for the rest of time— because he loves you. 

Belphie is backing away himself, completely mortified by your reaction; he did this to you and he already made it a point of making sure you knew he’d never forgive himself, but seeing you be dragged back forcefully into that experience felt like his heart was getting ripped out of his chest. His vision was getting blurry, chest heaving with stuttering breaths as he spiraled and not even Beel could pull him out of it— the only thing that saved him from breaking down was you. You crying out for him, you reaching out for him as your sobs quieted down into soft whimpers of his name. You wanted him to comfort you, even if he was the reason you were having such a bad flashback in the first place. And so he cries loudly, dropping to his knees and shakily crawling over to you, wrapping you in his arms as he utters apology after apology. He loves you so much and he’s sorry, he’s sorry- so sorry- so, so sorry. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. 

Diavolo is a bit frazzled at first, molten hues wide in surprise before the feeling of guilt creeps over him. He’d been the one who ordered you to go back in time- he’d been so curious as to how the door opened that he hadn’t thought about the possibility of Belphegor hurting you…he also takes a slow approach, making sure you see him in your line of sight before he lowers himself to the ground. He doesn’t touch you, instead waiting for you to come to him first, but for some reason the first words that manage to come out of his mouth are ‘I’m sorry’. It almost brings tears to his own eyes when you scramble to him and try to bury yourself in his embrace, sobbing harshly against his chest; he doesn’t let you go. And he won’t, not until he knows you’re in a better state of mind. He failed you that day…but he won’t make the same mistake twice.

Barbatos was even more frazzled than Diavolo, even more guilty— because he was the one who sent you back. This is one of the rare times everyone sees him lose his composure because, truly, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do and that scares him because you’re on the ground crying and he doesn’t know how to help you. For the first time in a really long time, he resorts to relying on his instincts rather than his head; he pulls you up in his arms, moving to settle down in a chair with you on his lap rather than being on the floor, and his fingers begin making soothing circles along the skin of your neck. He smoothes over where you accidentally scratched yourself, quietly reassuring you that he’ll be by your side and help you through it all— this, anything, and everything.

+

Simeon isn’t quite sure why you’re in such distress, but when he sees the look Lucifer has, he knows there’s a serious reason behind it. He forces his way past everyone without bothering to keep his polite smile on his face— his eyebrows are furrowed, his lips are tugged into a distressed frown, and there’s a slight shake to his hand as he softly caresses your cheek. He sends a wave of tranquility washing over you and pulls you into his arms when you slump in a sudden spell of exhaustion from his magic. There’s a searing surge of possessiveness that causes him to hold you tight and give the glare to anyone who tries to come closer; he knows it must be something to do with one of the demons because of how they’re looking at each other, so he’ll whisper assurances and promises to you as he sways you back and forth. He’s your guardian angel, remember? He’ll give everything he has to keep you safe, he promises. 

[platonic] Luke jumps when he hears you scream, eyes going wide and teary when he watches you start crying— he doesn’t know what happened and what is happening, all he knows is that you’re upset and that’s enough for him to practically fly across the room. He’s at your side in seconds, small frame latching onto you as he attempts to to fire off a million questions, but he’s starting to cry with you, so a lot of his words are jumbled. He’s so frustrated because all the demons- and even Solomon- are sharing a knowing expression, but he just doesn’t know why. It makes him cry harder but he ignores the fact that he’s doing it in front of everyone else and wobbly exclaims that he’s going to protect you! No matter what, no matter what it’s against— he’s your guardian angel! So he’s gonna be by your side against anything!

Solomon can’t help the grim expression that crosses his face, eyes stormy as he stands back and watches everyone fret over you. A strong possessive urge to protect you flares up suddenly and he also can’t help his snappy tone as he demands everyone get out of his way. He’s bringing you to your feet with magic, wrapping his arms gingerly around your waist as he turns your back to all the others in the room, making you see just him. He doesn’t try to hide the worry plastered over his face as he examines you, verifying there’s nothing physically wrong with you before focusing on reassuring you. He’s firm in the way he promises he’ll make sure nothing bad will happen to you again, swearing that he’ll protect you with every ounce of his being. He was livid when he found out what happened- and he’s livid even now knowing that you still have mental scars from it- but the only thing he can do is be there for you. And he’s going to. No one can stop him. 

Mephisto is horrified, thinking he hurt you somehow even though he’s certain he didn’t accidentally scratch you or pull the tape measure too tight. The knowing glance- and reassuring ‘you didn’t do this’ shake of the head from his lord- made him feel no less panicked, though he at least knew you weren't hurt— physically. With a quiet, almost hesitant voice, he’ll call out for you and get on his knees to softly apologize.  He’s completely out of his element when you crawl into his lap and bury your face in his neck, and yet he pulls you impossibly closer; whatever you want, whatever you need, he’ll be at your beck and call. His time, his attention, his money, his affection- it’s always been all yours and he’ll do anything to make you happy, you know that?

[kokoya]

You know what I was thinking about? reader decides to make Sanji(thr rest of the crew are sleeping, and since she always helps him with the dishes they're always the last ones) she decides to make him her favorite desert from back home. She's not a great cook like Sanji, but she made with such love and care(plus it's really good) that he can't help but be with heart eyes all the time. What do you think?

hiii i loved this request! here is how go fish! Sanji would react to reader making him her favorite dessert:

(once again i get carried away lol)

masterlist

"What's your favorite dessert?" you ask, completely out of the blue one night.

Sanji blinked a few times, trying to focus and gather his thoughts at your sudden question.

It was a typical Tuesday night on the Going Merry, where both of you were doing your unofficial nightly ritual of washing the dishes together after Sanji had served everyone another delicious evening meal, when you had broken the comfortable silence with your seemingly random question.

The blonde cook frowned slightly at the soapy sink water, sponge in hand as he continued scrubbing the saute pan. "Uh- I'm actually not too sure, love," he answered, rinsing off the pan with clean water before handing it over to you. "Why?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow slightly as he casted you a curious glance.

You took the dripping pan from him, shrugging. "Just curious," you hummed. "I like knowing things about you."

Sanji felt his heart flutter at your kind words as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards. "Ah, you're too kind to me Missus." He licked his bottom lip, trying his best to contain his ever-growing smile as he washed a plate. "What about you?"

"Huh?" You asked, drying the pan, like you snapped out of a daze.

Sanji had a full-blown smile now, laughing slightly. You were too cute for your own good. "Dessert," he replied patiently. He turned his head to look at you, bumping his hip with yours as he asked, "What's your favorite dessert?"

Now, sometimes Sanji couldn't help it. He just had to flirt with you. Sometimes you just made it too easy for him.

And damn if you didn't look cute when you blushed.

He leaned in towards you, his voice dipping lowly as he nearly purred, "Anything you see right now?"

"Well-" you sputtered, face turning scarlet as you nearly dropped the pan. "I, uh, I'm full. Actually."

Sanji tried his best to suppress his smile at your adorable antics as he resumed cleaning the plate in his hand. "Oh?"

"Yeah," you replied quickly. After a moment, you placed the dry pan on the dish mat. "But, um, maybe later?"

At your unsure question, Sanji felt his ears literally perk up as he repeated, "Later?"

He couldn't help it, his thoughts were running wild at the thought of you actually picking up what he was putting down. Was this really happening?

"Uh, yeah," you said, your reply sounding more like a question than an answer. You took a deep breath, your voice sounding more sure as you said, "Yeah. Later." You locked eyes with his surprised ones. "Come back here later. At midnight."

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

In his quarters, Sanji was wide awake. Laying on his bunk, he stared up at the ceiling as he mindlessly played with the cap on his lighter.

Click.

Were you serious? Did you actually ask him to meet up for a late-night rendezvous? Ahem- 'dessert'?

Click.

Ever since Nami had called him out on his, uh, crush on you, he was ashamed to admit that he found himself dreaming of something like this happening between you both for a while.

Click.

He liked to tease and flirt with you whenever he felt like it, loving the way you would just get so shy around him all of a sudden. It was just too cute for words. He was perfectly content at the moment with watching you from afar, when you were off in your own world, not realizing the beauty you emanated from purely existing.

And now you had picked up on his innuendo and were actually scheduling a meet-up?

Click.

Sanji could practically feel the nerves on his skin tingle from excitement, his heart beating faster than normal.

He's never actually had a woman return any kind of affection for him before, and if he laid here in bed any longer he felt like he was going to combust.

Clink. Sanji snapped his silver metal lighter shut as he sat up in bed, immediately finding the clock on the wall to read the time:

11:40

Ugh. It wasn't 12 exactly, but he simply couldn't just wait in his room any longer. It'd been hours since you both had finished up the dishes and these few hours of waiting had been absolute torture.

He got out of bed, wearing his usual pants and blue-striped button-down with a tie, even his shoes were on still, as he pocketed his lighter deciding to just go wait for you in the kitchen. You were pretty adamant about the meet-up time being 12 exactly, but he simply couldn't wait any longer.

Quietly, he opened the door of his room and carefully made his way towards the kitchen, trying to be as silent as he could. The ship was practically pitch-black since it was basically the middle of the night, but the closer he got towards the kitchen, he saw that a few lights were already on.

"Shit," he heard your whispered hiss. "I thought this would look better...oh my god. What if he hates this?"

His brows furrowed. Were you talking about him? Hating something you had done? He couldn't ever imagine that happening.

When he made it to the kitchen, the sight he was greeted with brought a smile to his face. There you were facing him, hunched over a whimsically decorated pink, yellow, white, and red cake, your face scrunched up in concentration, and the kitchen looking a bit of a mess.

As cute as the sight was, he couldn't help but be completely confused at what was going on. Didn't both of you just clean this entire kitchen only a few hours ago?......did you even go to bed at all?

This certainly wasn't the, uh, rendezvous he was expecting, but this was somehow better. He never knew what to expect with you and he loved that.

"Y/n?" he called out quietly.

You flinched at the sound of his voice, immediately straightening up, your eyes full of shock and surprise. "Sanji!" You put a hand over your heart. "Geez, you scared the hell out of me." You frowned slightly. "You were supposed to be here at 12."

The blonde cook took a couple of steps towards the counter, placing his hands on the edge as he leaned forward against it, examining the disarray before him, a small confused smile on his face. "What's going on here?"

"Um, well," you rubbed the back of your neck. "I wasn't quite ready yet...and I thought this would all look better...but, surprise..." you trailed off a bit lamely, slowly opening up your arms with an embarrassed smile.

Sanji cocked his head to the side. "Surprise for who?"

"You."

Now he was really confused. "Me?"

"Yeah." You were quiet for a moment, taking a deep breath and looked up at him, your expression soft and tender. "Happy anniversary Sanji."

"Well- I," Sanji stuttered. He was so terribly confused what you were on about but your expression didn't change. It was like you were waiting for him to realize what you were talking about. He let out a small breath. "I'm sorry, y/n. What are you talking about, sweetheart? What anniversary?"

Was he already dating you and it was an important anniversary for you both? Was he dreaming?

"Well, technically it's not your anniversary yet. But at midnight, it will be. It'll be ten years to the day..." you trailed off, looking down at the cake you made.

Ten years?

Suddenly, it all made sense to him. Everything. It was his ten-year anniversary....of being saved from that rock he was stranded on, with Zeff. The day that he would count as one of the happiest and hardest days of his life simultaneously.

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from wavering as best he could. "Ten years from he day I was saved..." He took a steadying breath as he looked at you.

As hard as the day was for him, he couldn't believe that you actually remembered the date. He had told you part of his horrible back story months ago when he had met you, right around the time when he told Luffy that story. Never did he think that you would do so much as to even remember the month and day of when he had gotten saved. The day he got a second chance at life.

"You remembered?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I did," you say simply, not offended by his question at all. You looked at him with a small smile, a twinkle in your eye. "It's the day that saved your life." In a quieter tone, you looked back down at your cake, a hint of embarrassment in your words, "If this day didn't happen ten years ago, I never would've met you. And I can't imagine never meeting you."

Sanji felt frozen in place as he stared at you. He felt his heartrate skyrocket.

But you weren't done with your sweet words. "Whenever you talked about that time in your life, you're always so sad over it. And rightfully so!" you quickly added, looking at him, your face flushing slightly. "But I don't want you to be sad over it anymore. So I figured I would make you your favorite dessert and surprise you with it so we could celebrate this day together but..."

You never told me what your favorite dessert was, were the unspoken words that hung in the air.

Truthfully, he wasn't a huge dessert person so he truly didn't have an answer when you had asked earlier but that didn't mean he didn't know a few desserts or two. He quickly scanned over your baked creation, looking at the details more closely and a smile twitched on his face when he realized the kind of cake you made.

"Is that a strawberry lemon cake?" he asked, his crooked smile growing wider when he saw your eyes light up.

Instantly, you looked up at him, immediately making eye contact with him, your face full of surprise. "Y-yes! It is...how'd you know..?"

"Ah, don't you know who you're talking to? The greatest chef in all of the four seas?" he asked playfully. "I know a strawberry lemon cake whenever I see one." Seeing the pair of forks and small plates you had already set out for you both, Sanji reached for a fork, looking at you with a raised brow. "May I?"

"Of course," you quickly nodded, gesturing for him to dig in.

As he took a forkful off the edge and put the dessert in his mouth, the sweetness and flavors immediately dancing on his tongue, you told him something sweet as he tasted something sweet.

"This is actually my favorite dessert," you admitted. Playing with hem of your apron (which he noted you looked so adorable in), you looked at him full of apprehension. "Do you like it? I think I could've done a better job..."

"This is the best thing I've ever tasted," he said without thinking.

And was he lying? Absolutely not. Since he was a cook, he was accustomed to so-called 'perfect meals' and all other 'amazing' creations. But this? A sweet cake made with love that was actually good? It was the truth: this was the best thing he'd ever had and he now had a favorite dessert, your strawberry lemon cakes.

"Ah, you're just saying that..."

"I'm serious." Sanji straightened up. "Something as good as this, made with love by you? And for such a...special occasion? I'm serious, y/n." He made sure he locked eyes with you, hoping you could feel everything he was feeling. "This is truly, the best thing I've ever had."

At his genuine compliment, he saw your apprehension melt away, that look being taken over by a look that radiated happiness. You were beaming. "Aw, Sanji," you said bashfully, waving him off slightly, a slight dusting of pink on your cheeks. "Well, thank you."

As he slowly made his way around the counter to be closer to you, he asked, "Wanna tell me how you made this incredible creation, Missus? I've never made one before."

At the opportunity to teach the Going Merry's chef something about food, an excited smile broke out across your face as you started explaining how you made your favorite dessert, launching into an animated explanation.

Once he was on the same side of the counter as you, practically a foot away but wanting to be closer, needing to touch you in some way but holding himself back, he listened to you explain every detail to him with a full feeling in his heart and a soft smile on his face.

Never before had someone done such a sweet and kind act for him, trying to help him heal from one of his traumas, but here you were, up all night practically so you could surprise him. The longer he looked at you, the more certain that yeah, Nami was right. He didn't like you as a friend. He liked you much more than a friend should.

He had feelings for you.

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera @chexmixtrys @princettecharlie @amitydoodlez @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @abracarabbit @commanderfreethatdust @lordbugs @sweet-little-nothings @geisterfvhrer @kenkenmaaa @dazaisfavgf @fan-goddess @shadydeanmuffin @cherrypie5 @sauceonmyshorts @hhighkey @gimmebackmyskeeball @he4vens-ang3l @selcouthaesthetics @sapphireonline @dory-98 @redskull199987 @teenyforestfairy @acupnoodle @strwberryii @luna0713hunter @tinydonkeysforlife @rand0m--fangirl @stevenknightmarc

[kokoya]

FLUFF! SWEET! ADORABLE! Fem S/O x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, and Law hcs! Feeling lonely whenever their lover is busy, S/O sewed together a plushie version of her lover to keep her busy and confess secrets to her plushie like she was the one who are the last cake piece or something! And their lover has been feeling lonely bc S/O hasn’t been hanging with them that much!

A/N: :) this was so cute to make. I hope I had the right idea &lt;3

Characters: F! reader x Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Ace, Law

Cw: just some fluff for your soul :) maybe a few brief moments of angst/sadness, but it's all happy endings, alcohol/drunk mention in Ace’s

Total word count: 4k (about 600-1k for each person)

A Plushie Substitute

Zoro

You hadn’t seen Zoro in a few hours, which wasn’t uncommon. He had been training extra hard here recently, and that resulted in you seeing your boyfriend even less than you normally did. You tried not to be too upset with the circumstances; you knew Zoro’s dream was to become the greatest swordsman in the world, and you would never get in the way of that. So instead, you created a small green-headed plushie with only one eye to take his place when you needed him while he was busy. You whispered your crew gossip to him that you got from Nami, and humorously found that the plushie Zoro spoke about as much as the real Zoro when you relayed the ship drama to him.

--

Zoro had done 1,000 push ups, 500 crunches, and 200 dumbbell squats. He had trained in all of the sword handling positions with his three swords and with weighted barbells until he had perfected each stance. He had worked all morning and all afternoon without stopping, and now all he wanted to do was see you. He wanted to sit in silence while you chatted about your day and filled him in on everything he had missed while he was training. A piece of him had hoped you would come up and interrupt his workout at some point, even if you just quietly existed together, but you hadn’t. So he set off to find you. 

--

Zoro eyed around the ship, looking for you in your normal spots on the deck. “Oi, Nami,” he called to the navigator. “Do you know where y/n is?”

Nami glared at Zoro for a moment, and then rolled her eyes. “I saw her on the stern a few minutes ago, staring off into the sea. Might wanna check on her.”

He walked to the rear of the boat, keeping his eye out for you. He found you sitting on the railing staring out to sea, just like Nami said. You appeared to be mumbling softly to someone, but he didn’t see anyone around you who you could be talking to. 

As he approached, you could hear someone coming up behind you, and you stopped speaking to plushie Zoro and quickly tucked him safely away. 

Zoro came over, easily hoisting himself up over the railing to sit next to you. He wrapped his arm around you to hold your waist, and you leaned into him, resting your head against his muscular chest. He pulled you closer into him, chuckling softly. He always loved when you snuggled up into him, and you loved being so close to him in simple ways.

You remained quiet, enjoying the silence with him. He looked over at you curiously, waiting for you to start talking about your day like normal, but you didn’t speak up. Finally he decided to prompt you, wanting to hear your voice. “How was your day?”

“It was good! I hung out with Nami on the deck for a bit.” You attempt to keep your recap of the day brief, not wanting to bother him with all of the boring details. You had already gotten all of the chattiness and gossip out of your system by talking to his plushie replacement. 

Zoro waits for you to expand, but you don’t, and he starts to grow concerned over your lack of conversation. He thought about how he heard you earlier when he approached, talking and laughing to some unseen person. He squeezed you lightly in an attempt to comfort you, though he wasn’t sure what he was comforting you from. “You okay? Who were you chatting with earlier when I arrived?”

You blush. “I’m okay. I was just talking to…well, you.” You pause, and you see a confused look pass over Zoro’s face. You reluctantly pull out the plushie you’ve created and show your boyfriend. You expect him to laugh at you or make some kind of joke, but he just silently takes the plushie from your hand and examines it for a few minutes. 

“You made this?” He finally asks. You simply nod in response. 

“It looks just like me. It even has a little haramaki and a bandana like mine.” He pauses for a moment to kiss your temple. “This looks really great. But why did you make it?”

Your eyes stay fixed on the plushie. “I just didn’t want to interrupt your workouts, and I know you don’t care much for the drama that I usually tell you about. I created him to help with that. That way I can still tell someone and you don’t have to listen to all my annoying rambling and-”

“Your rambling is not annoying,” Zoro says, cutting you off. “I like your voice. And I like your presence.” He hands the plushie back to you. “Keep this guy of course, but you can always talk to me about anything you want to, and you’re always welcome in the crow’s nest when I’m training. Actually, you should come up tomorrow. I can use you for some new workouts I’d like to try.”

You laugh at that sentiment, but you don’t continue the conversation anymore. You all stay quiet for a while before the moss-haired man speaks up again. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

His cheeks are tinted as you look his way. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. I’m not always a good talker, but I do always listen to you.”

“No, Zoro. It’s not that at all! I just…I just thought you weren’t interested, and I didn’t want to bother you with the silly stuff.”

“You can bother me now, if you’d like.”

And so you all sit on the railing, watching the sun sink into the sea. You talk, he listens, and all is right with the world. 

Luffy

It had been a long time since you had joined Luffy on an island adventure. He was always the type to run off and find trouble before the Sunny had even docked, whereas you preferred to take your time and do a check before you ventured to a new island. You didn’t mind the distance you two usually had on an island, but you did miss sharing an adventure with your boyfriend. Still, you refused to complain or stand in the way of his adventure, so you created a smaller version of him, working on as many small details as you could to make him as realistic as possible. And when you finished, you secured him onto your backpack, ready to set out on an adventure with a version of him. 

--

Luffy had been wandering around for several hours now, looking for something to do. There were small adventures he had found, like herding a farmer’s cattle and exploring some random caves. He even found giant holes in the ground with random artifacts and cool shining crystals, but he didn’t have much use for any of those things, and found it all relatively boring. This island was mostly safe, unfortunately for him, and now he just wanted to find you and try to explore more or head off to the next island.

--

“Oh, cool!” You hear Luffy behind you, rapidly approaching. You brace yourself just in time, and you feel the strawhat man crash into you from behind. His momentum sends you both tumbling into the dirt. 

“Luuuuufffffyyyy!” You’re now face down against the ground and Luffy is sitting on top of you, looking at your backpack with a deep interest. He seems to be completely unaware of the chaos his entrance just caused, or that you are struggling underneath him to get up. 

“Oh man, this is so cool! It’s like a mini-me! The straw hat and the scars and even the sandals! It’s perfect!” He bends down to meet your face and grins. “Hey, y/n! Who made this? I want one of you too!”

You sigh, giving up hope of getting up anytime soon, and answer his question. “I made it, Luffy.”

“No way! It looks amazing! I knew you could make stuff, but I had no idea you were this talented. Can you make me one of you too? So we can match!” His eyes glisten with hope as he’s turning the little doll over in his fingers, examining the details you managed to incorporate. 

“Sure, Luffy.” You’re being short with him, and he’s finally starting to notice. 

His eyes break away from the doll and finally look at you. “Hm? You okay? Do you need me to get up?”

“No, Luffy. It’s fine. I just made Mini-Luffy and clipped him onto my backpack so we could keep going on adventures together.”

“But we always go on adventures,” He questions. “We’re on one right now, aren’t we?”

“I know, but we’re usually split up during the whole thing. And I just, I don’t know…” You had promised yourself you wouldn’t get mad at Luffy for being a captain, for wanting adventure, but you realize now it really did hurt to be separated from him during important moments. “I don’t want to be left behind.”

Luffy gets off your back and stands, silently reaching out a hand to help you to your feet. He readjusts his hat to hide his face, and then takes your hand. “I’m sorry, y/n,” and you can hear the shame in his voice. “I won’t leave you ever again.”

You laugh at that, and you feel a little better now that you’ve gotten that fear off your chest. “Don’t be silly, Luffy.” You give him a peck on his cheek, right under his scar. “I’m not asking you to do that. Just maybe in the future when you slingshot to an island, take me with you every now and then, okay?”

He grins his classic, wide smile,and he nods. “Deal!”

Relief rushes through you, and you relax a bit. Now that you’ve talked to him about your worries, you want to know what his adventures have been on this island. “So, what did you find here? Anything interesting?”

He talks your ear off the whole way back to the ship, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. When you get back, you start working on a plushie look-alike of you for Luffy, and hand it to him a few days later. He loops it around his belt, grinning widely. “Now we’ll never be apart!”

When the next island appears, he slingshots away without you, but you choose to laugh at his hastiness to get to the island. It doesn’t bother you as much now, now that you’ve talked to him about it. But he quickly returns, wraps a rubber arm around you, and takes off again, laughing the whole way. “Almost forgot, but I’ll always come back for you!”

Sanji

Sanji had been gone for a while now, beckoned away again by your hungry captain. It had probably been the tenth time today that he had gotten up to make food for someone on the ship, but that was the duty that came along with the title of being the Sunny’s chef. You were normally pretty good about being on your own while Sanji had to work, but today you wanted to be around him. You went to your room to find some scrap cloth to piece together a Sanji stand-in for the time being.

--

The stove was still hot as Sanji cleaned up from Luffy’s eleventh meal of the day. He wasn’t sure if it was the calm ocean that made Luffy so restless and hungry, but Sanji was starting to get nervous about food rations. He never minded cooking for people of course, but it felt like he was spending more time cooking for his captain than he was spending time with you. He wanted nothing more than to run out to you and cover you in a shower of kisses to make up for lost time, but he knew he couldn’t leave the kitchen such a mess. While he cleaned up, he whipped up your favorite drink and snacks to bring out to you, excited to see your face again. 

--

Sanji strode towards you, thrilled to see you still sunning on the deck in your bathing suit. He had already taken Nami and Robin their own snacks, and left out other snacks for the boys if they got hungry. Hopefully that would give him a few hours of peace alone with you. 

“Y/N-swannnn,” he cooed to you as he approached, but stopped when he saw something in his seat. He looked at it curiously as he got closer, and he realized it was a small replica of himself.

His sudden silence prompted you to open one of your eyes, and you saw him looking at the doll you had put in his seat. “Oh…” you stutter, starting to sit up to explain.

“Y/N-swannnn! Did you make this?!?!” Sanji sets down your refreshments and picks up the doll, pausing briefly to give it a thorough examination. “It’s perfect!” he gushes. “You’ve created such a beautiful piece of work! It’s so-”

“It’s just for when you’re busy!” You rush to explain. “I missed having you around, that’s all.”

Sanji clutches the doll to his chest, and his eyes turn to hearts at your sentimentality. He rushes to you, finally embracing you after hours of being apart. He litters your faces with kisses, which causes you to erupt into a fit of giggles. Once he’s pampered you enough, he pulls you in for a hug, your plushie squeezed between the two of you. 

“Are you hungry, my love?” He pulls away from you, reaching back for the refreshments to serve you. He sneaks the plushie into his pocket while he displays the assortments of snacks and drinks for you to enjoy, which you happily oblige. 

The food is so perfect, you let out a soft moan in delight. “You always make the best food dear,” you praise. “I’ll never eat food from anyone else.”

“Only the best for my queen,” He says, kissing your forehead and taking a seat next to you. 

After a few minutes, you fell asleep surrounded by the smell of cigarette smoke. Sanji let you sleep, watching you endearingly until he was called away once again  to make dinner.

When you awoke a few hours later, you reached out for Sanji before opening your eyes, but only found air in his place. Your eyes peeked open, searching for him, but instead you found his plushie, along with a note that said “He’s only here until I get back ♥”

Ace

You had lost your fiery boyfriend once again. He was off, running amok with the group of  rowdy crew members on the new island. You had decided to stay on the ship, finishing up some minor projects instead of venturing out to the island. He was supposed to return before the sun set, but the moon was working its way through the night sky now, and you were too tired to stay up and wait for him longer. He had already missed your all’s afternoon nap, which made you skip it as well. You never slept well without him anyway. The next morning, he was still MIA, and you were painfully sleep deprived from missing a nap and not sleeping well. You put your crafting skills to work and created a smaller version of him, hoping that would help your sleeping problem temporarily. It ended up being successful, and you fell asleep easier than you expected, curling up with a small stuffed Ace in the absence of your normal sized one.

--

Ace had gotten hopelessly lost, both directionally and time wise. By the time he realized he was late getting back to the ship, he was too intoxicated to navigate back anyway, and opted to share a room with a bunch of his friends at the inn across the street. He slept horribly without you by his side, and as he shuffled back to the ship late the next morning, he prayed you’d be in the mood for an early nap along with him. 

--

Ace stumbled onto the ship, exhausted and hungover. His eyes raked over the deck, searching desperately for you. He didn’t go out with the boys often, and these days he always seemed to regret his adventures whenever they were included. He would’ve much rather been with you last night, and he hoped you’d forgive him for his last minute change of plans. 

He couldn’t find you on the deck, and he spent the next half an hour searching the ship for you, but he was unsuccessful. He finally gave up, returning to his room to nap with the hope that he would find you later.

He was shocked to find you curled up in his bed, already asleep. He’s even more surprised to see you holding a small stuffed animal, and a small tinge of jealousy rises up in him. You had told him before that you never needed a stuffed animal, since you had always had him to cuddle with at night. 

He climbed into bed next to you, brushing your hair back from your face and pressing his lips to your forehead. You stir, familiar with his touch, and your eyes lazily open to meet his. 

“Oh,” you smile, realizing Ace has finally returned back to you. “Hey, you.”

He smiles back to you, his worry melting away. “Hey you.”

You wipe the sleep from your eyes, and prop yourself up on your elbow. “How was your night?”

He fills you in on his evening briefly. “I wish I hadn’t been away for the whole night. I lost track of time. I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s alright.” You’re happy to hear that he missed you as well. Your fingers trail absentmindedly along his bare chest, not saying anything more about the matter. You had already forgotten about the Ace plushie you had created, but he was still staring at it in the dark room, trying to figure out what it was. 

He picked up the stuffed plushie between the two of you and examined it, quickly realizing that it was a replica of him. He caught your eye and held it up, smirking at you. “Miss me much?”

You gave a shy smile back to him, snatching the plushie from him quickly. “Maybe.” 

He gave you a soft peck on the lips, grinning at your timidness. “It looks cute. Not as cute as me, but cute. I like it.”

He pulls you against him, and you settle into his warm skin. “Shall we nap? Make up for lost time?”

You hum in agreement, already drifting off into sleep, comforted in the routine you all have returned to.

Law

Trafalgar Law had always been a surgeon first and a human being second. You knew that, and you knew how much being a surgeon with the Ope-Ope fruit meant to him. So, when you started dating and his study habits didn’t change, you tried to manage without him. You didn’t want to be too clingy, especially at the beginning. And you had always been good at sewing, so you just created a smaller version of the man you loved, so you could keep him around even when he was busy. Now, whenever you felt the urge to tell Law something throughout the day, you had someone to share it with even when he was occupied. 

-

Law stared at the ceiling fan that was lazily spinning in circles. He had been studying for hours, praying you would come in to distract him at some point. But you had started showing up less and less frequently now that the two of you were official. He wasn’t necessarily concerned about you getting cold feet; if something was wrong, he was certain you would talk to him rather than avoid him. Still, he missed you, your smile, the way you always ran into the room as if the most amazing thing in the world had just happened to you. These days, it felt like the only time he really saw you was during meals and island days. 

-

He found you in the common room, reading a book on the couch. He approached you quietly from behind, and as he bent down, he reached around and grabbed your book with his tattooed fingers as he rested his chin atop your head. 

You hummed pleasantly to his approach. “You’re out of your office early today.” You tilt your head up just enough to make contact with his golden eyes. 

“I needed a break.” He kissed your hair lightly and broke away from you, taking the book out of your hands and he stood back up. He closed it gently and sat it on the table behind him. He returned back to you again, this time reaching down to grab your now empty hands. “Do you want to make dinner with me?”

You had to tilt your head back further now to look him in the eye, and you saw him staring down at you with a smirk. 

That stupid smirk always made words more difficult than they were meant to be, and you take a second to find them all before you speak. “I didn’t think Bepo put you on the schedule for dinner this week, did he?”

His golden eyes pierce into yours, and you feel a blush enter your cheeks when he answers.“I was thinking just the two of us tonight. Pasta?”

-

You stir the sauce as Law begins to work on a side dish for the two of you. “Did anything interesting happen today?”

You hum back, trying to recall exactly what the crew got into today while your captain was locked away. “Oh! Clementine died. The crew gave him a burial at sea. It was very touching.”

You can hear Law stop whatever he was doing behind you. “Y/n-ya,” he starts slowly, gears turning in his head. “Who the hell is Clementine?”

You abandon the sauce momentarily to turn and face him. “You know, the fish Penguin caught the other day?”

“The fish?” His brows furrow at you, as if he’s trying to decide whether or not you’re playing a prank on him. “What fish?”

“The fish! The orange fish that Penguin caught and thought was too pretty to kill! I definitely told you about it.” He’s still staring at you with a confounded look spread across his face. 

“You definitely did not tell me about that.” The look on his face tells you that he’s being truthful, and you realize that you didn’t tell him. You told plushie Law about that day, not actual Law. You turn back to the saucepot, not wanting Law to see your face reddening over your mistake. “Oh, I must’ve been confused. Sorry.”

But your captain knows you well, and he walks over to you and wraps his arms around your waist. “Y/n-ya,” he speaks softly, his head now resting on your shoulder. “What are you hiding from me?”

Your blush deepens from pink to red, and you try your best to focus on the task in front of you. “Oh, uh, nothing.” You stutter over your words, not helping your case. 

“Y/n-yaaaa…” He presses his lips against your cheek for a long while. He always knows the best way to get you to cave to him, and you curse yourself for being so readable. 

“I just…” You pause for a moment, and he hums against your skin to urge you on. “I have this mini-you that I sometimes hang out with when you’re busy and tell stuff too. I guess I told Mini-Law about the fish…”

You feel Law pull away from you, examining your face. He’s trying to catch your eye, but you are intensely staring at the sauce in front of you.

“A mini-me?” He asks, confused. You finally look up at him, and you can see a twinge of sadness in his eye.  

“I just didn’t want to interrupt your studying!” You race to explain. “I know how important it is for you to be a surgeon and I didn’t want to get in the way-”

He pulls you close against his chest, stunning you into silence. You can feel his soft lips pressing into the crown of your head, and he inhales deeply against you. “You can always interrupt me to talk to me, no matter how small you think it is.” He pulls you back from him so he can look into your eyes again. “I’ve missed seeing you in my office. I’ve missed your stories and your voice. I want to hear everything, I want to know it all. So come bother me anytime, okay y/n-ya?”

“I promise.” He bends down to kiss you, and you find yourself smiling against his lips. You can smell the faint scent of tomato burning, but the two of you will figure that out later.

[kokoya]

Hey there<3 may I ask a HC about law and other one piece men(your choices) about their S/o accidentally called them their boyfriend. Like imagine them already married to their S/o for years and their s/o accidentally called them their boyfriend in front of other. Well that's all from me i hope you have good day and I'm sorry if my request are hard to understand (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Characters: gn x Law, Luffy, Zoro

Cw: none :)

Total word count: 1k

(Not) Just a Boyfriend

Law

“It’s so good to see you again!” You smiled at your old friend across from you. 

“The same to you,” he responded. His eyes slid over to Law. “And who’s the lucky guy?”

You blushed, putting your hand on Law’s chest to introduce him. “Oh right! This is my boyfriend, Law.”

“Husband,” Law quickly corrected. You could feel him tense at your mistake, but his eyes were cool and collected as he reached out to shake the other man’s hand. 

“Husband?” The man challenged, taking his hand.

“Husband,” Law said firmly. You could sense the tension between the two men, but you chose to ignore it, smiling and pretending like everything was normal. 

--

Law didn’t bring up your misspoken words again until you were back in the room, away from everyone. 

“Why’d you introduce me wrong?” Law asked, untying his bowtie. He was already cranky from having to attend a formal event, and your words certainly didn’t help his mood. 

You let out an exasperated groan. “I’m so sorry about that!” you cried, turning to face him. “I was already fumbling over all my words and I didn’t mean to do that!”

He smiled a bit, relieved that he wasn't over-exaggerating. He didn’t want to turn his concern into a giant fight with you. “So I’m not demoted?”

You covered your face with your hands. “That was so embarrassing. I should be the one demoted.”

He hummed, thinking about the possibility for a second, and then walked over to you. He pulled your hands away from your face and wrapped them around his body, and you melted into his warm chest. You were exhausted from the night and seeing so many familiar faces. All you wanted to do was crawl into bed and fall asleep listening to your husband’s heartbeat. 

“I’m so sorry about that,” you mumbled into his chest. You didn’t think you'd ever live that down. 

He laughed and kissed the top of your head, already forgetting the incident. “You have nothing to apologize for. Let’s get some sleep.”

Luffy

“Holy shit, Y/N,” your friend whispered to you, pointing at the bar. “We should go. I think that’s a Yonko.”

“Huh?” you glanced up from your drink and followed her gaze to Luffy. “Oh yeah, wanna meet him, Cecilia?”

“Meet him?” she squeaked out. Her eyes were wide, mixed with fear and excitement. 

“Yeah.” You stood to your feet, pulling her along with you. “Oi, Luffy!” you called. 

“You can’t speak to a Yonko like that!” Cecilia gasped. She pulled away from you as Luffy’s eyes turned to look at you. 

You laughed at her reaction. She was so afraid for no reason. Luffy wouldn’t hurt anyone unless they gave him a reason to. 

“I can speak to a Yonko like that,” you said with a smile on your face. “Especially when he’s my captain and my boyfriend.”

Cecilia’s eyes practically bugged out of her head at your words, but Luffy frowned at you. 

“Boyfriend?” he questioned. “Did I get pushed back down to boyfriend? I didn’t know that could happen.”

“You’re right. I misspoke,” you said, planting a kiss on his cheek. He gave you a goofy grin in return, making your heart skip a beat. 

“My captain, and my husband,” you corrected, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking back at your friend. 

Poor Cecilia was ready to faint, being so close to such a powerful man. You couldn’t blame her. Luffy’s haki was so strong naturally, sometimes it made people a little woozy being around him. 

“You’re on the same crew as a yonko?” she whispered. Her eyes were filled with awe and a little bit of envy and they darted between you and Luffy. 

“If we're going to get married again, can we have a bigger banquet this time?” Luffy asked, looking at you. 

You giggled in response, planting a kiss on his lips this time. “Sure, babe.”

Zoro

The man next to you at the bar was flirting with you. You were aware of that. You weren’t stupid, but he was one of the only people in the bar who wasn’t either a crewmate or a complete creep, so you dealt with his flirtatious attempts in order to have an intellectual conversation. It was starting to get unpleasant though, and you could feel his attempts getting stronger and more personal.

Zoro must’ve noticed the man’s over-the-top friendliness with you, because you felt a strong arm wrap around your shoulder. 

“Hey gorgeous,” Zoro’s voice purred in your ear. “Mind if I buy you a drink?”

You giggled, and you can see the guy next to you shoot Zoro an irritated look. 

“Hey buddy, do you mind?” He hissed out. 

“I think my boyfriend can buy me a drink, buddy.” You smirk at the man across from you, finally fed up with his entitlement. You can feel Zoro next to you sending the same cheeky grin, and the man’s mouth falls open in shock. 

“Boyfriend?” the man questioned, looking between you and Zoro. 

“That’s right,” Zoro said, bending down and pressing his cheek against yours. “So buzz off.”

The man grumbled and stalked away, leaving you and Zoro alone at the bar. 

“Bartender,” Zoro called. “Another round for us, please!”

He took a seat next to you, and the bartender filled up both of your cups with your respective drinks. 

“So,” Zoro said, his eye sliding over to you. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“Huh?” You asked. 

“You called me your boyfriend,” Zoro said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I did not.”

“You did.”

Your mouth fell open, trying to think back to that moment. “Oh shit! I did, didn’t I?”

He nodded, staring at his drink while he swirled it around in his cup. 

“Hey, asshole!” You screamed, looking around for the flirtatious man in the bar. “He’s my husband! Not-”

“Hush!” Zoro hissed, clamping his hand over your mouth to get you to be quiet. “It’s not a big deal! Don’t make a scene!”

“But-”

“You still love me right?” He flashed a cocky smile. “Then I don’t care what you call me.”

[kokoya]

The Sticky Note Game

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Summary: You have a silly little game that you, Jake, and Steven play. But someone accidentally messes it up and ends up finding out about said game.

Warnings: None that I actually know of. “Y/N” is used two times.

Author’s Snip: Just a cute thought I had and wanted to write about.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

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  It was a game that was originally between you and Jake. It worked like tag where someone was it and they had to make the other person it. But instead of running around the flat and making a bunch of ruckus you would write on a piece for sticky note and hide it where the other would see it. You weren’t sure when this started but it was a thing the two of you did together and was actually really fun when it came down to watching and waiting for the other to see the note and then be it. Well, it was between just you and Jake till Steven found the sticky note that was meant to get Jake. 

  He was looking through the fridge to see if there were any items that would expire soon. Jake had some beer bottles on one of the shelves that he placed next to the oat milk which he was going to check until he noticed the sticky note attached to one of the bottles that had “You’re it >:)” written on it. He took it off and asked you why it was there.

  You laughed for a bit and told the even more confused Steven about this game you played with Jake. Steven nodded in understanding before looking back at the sticky note and then asking “So, what? Does this mean I’m it now?”.

  After that, you and Jake had changed the rules to make the game fair. You needed to write who its to, who it was making the tag, no double tags, and you couldn’t say if you knew where a sticky note was. Oh, and co-fronting when a sticky note was being made was cheating because the two alters could tag each other and if you are co-fronting when your tagging note was found by another it counts because you technically saw it.

  This game of three went on for a long while too. 

  Till there was a bit of an issue…

  It had been two whole months, and no new sticky note was found and you were starting to get suspicious. You were it and had made a note that would tag Steven by putting the note on the back of one of his books. But Steven made no sign that he saw it. Which didn’t make sense since the book moved spots. So he had to have seen it and had made a sticky note to tag someone else. But none appeared. You even went looking for a note, regardless of it would make you it again. 

  Out of all of the players to possibly cheat, Steven seemed like he would never. But you shouldn’t put it past him, Steven can be a bastard if he wants to be. 

  But it turns out that all three of you were silently eyeing each other up since there was no sign of and new tags. Soon Steven decided to go looking for a new sticky note in case it was just that well hidden.

  “Steven,” Marc said as he watched Steven looking through the whole flat for something from a nearby refection. “What the hell are you doing? Did you drop something?” he asked. “No. I’m looking for a sticky note, mate.” Steven responded. Marc jerked an eyebrow in confusion. “A sticky note? Wouldn’t that be where you put all your sticky notes?” he asked. 

  “No. It’s not any sticky note, Marc. It’s a specific one.” Steven clarified and he moved to a different spot to check. “Well, what’s it for?” Marc asked as he followed Steven with a new reflective surface. Steven sighed before speaking. “Okay. Don’t laugh. But me, Y/N, and Jake play this tag game using sticky notes and we put them places for us to find. But it’s been a while and no one’s found the bloody thing.” Steven explained. “I wanna make sure no one’s went on and cheated.” Steven says. 

  “Who was it last?” Marc asked. “I don’t know, mate. That’s the point.” Steven responded. “I think that would be Y/N.” Marc said out of the blue. “There was a sticky note on the back of one of your books from them to you but it just had a smiley face on it.” Marc confessed. Steven almost banged his head on the bottom of the table he was looking under. “What did you do with it?” Steven asked as if it were life and death. “Which one is it, Marc?” he said looking right at the surface Marc was on. “The green one. I killed a spider with it and saw it on the back.” Marc explained, “I took it off though cause I killed the spider using the back and it got on the sticky note.” he admitted. 

  “Finally!” Steven exclaimed as he went towards his desk to write on a sticky note to tag someone.

  “How long have you three been doing this.” Marc questioned. “Oh, I’ve been playing for while but the other two were the ones playing it originally, I just sort of walked into it and they let me be a part of it.” Steven explained as he took the note off of he pad and placing it in Jake’s hat. “Don’t tell Jake that’s there.” he said to Marc. 

  “Okay?” Marc said before standing there in the reflection for a moment. “Do you want to join? Seems kind of rude to tell you about the game and not let you participate.” Steven offered. Marc shrugged with a “Sure.”. 

  A week had passed, during which you heard Jake shout “Son of a bitch!” when he found the note Steven left. 

  You had woken up in the morning a few days after that and were getting ready to take your morning shower till you noticed a sticky note addressed to you on one of your shampoo bottles saying,

  “I’m playing the game now. You’re it. 

                                                 - Marc”