#again the take and personal experiences are just fine and being annoying about SA jokes is more than understandable

[britney-j-christ]

"You only need to read between the lines to see-" Elden Ring gives us about 1/2 of the lines of the story; if you're gonna fill them in yourself, don't rave that everyone who fills the blank in differently is victim blaming because they won't read one of the sketchy characters as still being innocent. Or worse, that they've been violated and to suggest otherwise is wrong, and that there's a Morally Correct read of this game about brother incest and motherhood to mass murder pipeline to be following.

[manias-wordcount]

Have a request? Read me!

Okay so ive been running this shit for about a year and a halfish i think its time to talk about how i work. though before we start i just wanted to say im thankful for everyone who supports me or just reads a work of mine. it means the world to me and i enjoy being able to share my writings with a bunch silly and lovely people like y’all !!! 

General Rules for my blog!

Please don’t ask me for any personals information lol

like actually

this includes stuff like my age, where im from, etc. 

i share what i want on my own private time sooo like

dont ask teehee

Please dont make SA jokes in the comments of my stuff xD

i wish i was joking.

i understand some people use humor to cope

but thats no excuse to be joking about bringing out the rape whistle when a unpopular background character is staring at you

like i really wish i was joking but yeah

Don’t be rude in general in the comments of my stuff lmaoo

like its genuinely annoying.

it’s 10000% okay to not agree with my vision for how a story goes or how a character should react

but if that’s something you want to tell me, do not be rude about it lmaoo like where are your manners

like if you dont agree, you dont agree but neither of our word is law soo...

also dont fucking shame requesters or commenters if they’re actually doing nothing wrong

i’ve had way too many people complain or shade other’s completely reasonable requests like wtf???

but yeah practice some self-awareness before you speak your mind sometimes? 

you are not the only person in the room

okay rant over teehee

Some of the stuff on my blog contains sexual material

I really try to give warnings ahead of time

but don’t be afraid to point out if there's something else that probably needs a forewarning

also my words are not gospel

shit can be dramatized (im whore)  or romanticized for convenience of storytelling (im lazy) so if youre using this stuff to learn about sex uhhh

maybe dont?

Some of the stuff on my blog contains some dark themes

i also try to be transparent about those things as well

but for the record im in no way glorifying these dark themes

though as someone who is both creative and has seen/gone through so shit i do explore and work through some of these topics to myself as a person and as a writer!

Request Rules and Guidelines

i’ll write anything!! (within reason)

i think you guys can guess a bit about what “within reason” means

and i know the fact that i dont have a “NO LIST” can be inconvenient

but if you’re unsure if ill write something you want? just ask!

you can always ask in dms or in my inbox! either is fine  

that means i have the right to deny anything too, of course

long story short, y’all dont pay me LMAOO

i usually wont deny something but i will if it’s...

one: requested while my requests are closed (im sorry but no more means nomore!!!)

two: goes against what i believe in some way (i doubt anyone is going to request something political or bigoted so im talking shit like the fact that i will never write anything that takes place in the state of New Jersey USA because  i hate that place so much WHHAHAHAHA

three: you were mean to me AHAHAHAHAHAH

yeah this list isn’t long and very hard to get but i did want to make this transparent

before anyone starts requesting some new jersey aus..........

be respectful !!

not only am i human, im truly am doing this for free (for now, at least) and on my own time

though you should treat people who charge for their work with respect too.

its hard out there for us lil creators lmao

sometimes, less is better.

Super detailed requests can be tricky to navigate.

Again, im doing this on my free time and i average around 1K-2k words depending on what my life is looking like at the moment.

sometimes a super detailed requests require multiple parts that might not be released for a long time.

Or i struggle with getting a story im proud of putting my name while trying to respect the request.

If you want specific details to make the experience more personal to you, go for it

but do you really need to tell me what your request is in 11 full-length  sentences? do you really HAHAHAH

also if i aske you to explain something, please be able to explain it bc im not a mind reader and this guess and check thing is kinda stressful

try not to rush me lol

Im checking my blog everyday.

I see your requests and i promise im (most likely) not ignoring you.

i have other hobbies, and a life too, and possibly 20 requests ahead of you.

i try to get everything out asap but sometimes that’s like 2 or more months

BUT if you’re scared that your request may not have made it through the hellsite, send another one asking if i got the request! 

i’ll respond to that one if i have!

PLEASE TELL ME WHO AND WHERE THEYRE FROM IN YOUR REQUEST

like actually teehee

It stresses me when i just get a request and all that's included is the situation the requester wants and the character’s first name. Give me the full name or tell me where they’re from before i scour every single series i write for to check for repeat names

its not that big of a deal but im scared of fucking up for you guys aaaaaa

If you send me a weird or rude request as anon, im just going to delete it from my inbox for both of our sake

cough cough THINK LIKE NO PEDOPHILIA LIKE ACTUALLY

and im not gonna specify what i mean by “weird” beyond that just because it’s very much a random situation

im not naming anons but just kinda think ahead of time what you’re asking me (a stranger) to do and publish for you

maybe uhhh...check my masterlist before requesting?

i know its daunting

i know i have a lot on there

but there might literally be exactly what you’re looking for on there HAHA

if not though, absolutely go forward with requesting !!!!!!!

even if what you want is something similar to what i’ve already written, a few changes make a huge difference!

but when in doubt about characters or stories i’ve written before?

check!

if have the right to change the way i write a request (unless specifically stated otherwise)

all this means is that every request (unless a HC is specifically asked for) will start off as being written as a full length average Mania™ fic

if for any reason i decide it would be better in a different format, then i will change it (ex: fic  => hc)

UNLESS YOU SPECIFICALLY ASK FOR A CERTAIN FORMAT

then ill keep true to that format no matter what happens 

but yeah ! that’s it for now at least. ill update this post if theres more hehe. also if you have questions, just dm me or put it in my inbox :)

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwyn x Nesta

This is not as edited as my other fics but I was just too excited to post. I would like to comment that I pretty much think every character is bisexual unless stated otherwise lol. I also recognize this piece could come off problematic (ppl thinking this is fetishization) I personally don’t think it is, but I welcome constructive criticism. I am bisexual and a SA survivor so I felt comfortable writing about those topics considering I have personal experience with both.

Thank you for the idea: @mercurianbisous @genya-berdara

“Hey Nes.”

Nesta jumped from her spot on the couch, closing her book as she did so. A small smile graced her face as she realized Gwyn was standing at the entry of the House of Wind library.

“Hey Gwyn, you scared the shit out of me.” Nesta chuckled as she put her book away. She patted the spot next to her, beckoning for Gwyn to join her. Gwyn knew she looked awkward standing there, twisting her fingers. Gwyn hesitantly took the spot.

“I have a favor to ask.” Gwyn managed to spit out. She needed to start somewhere and knew that Nesta would never judge her for what she was about to ask. She might turn her down, but she would never laugh.

Nesta simply raised a singular eyebrow at Gwyn. She leant back on the couch and flourished her hand as if to tell Gwyn to continue.

“I am only asking you because I know you are not interested in women, which is precisely why I cannot ask Emerie-“

“You are interested in Emerie?” Nesta asked nonchalantly. Gwyn felt relief at the lack of judgement, but annoyed at the interruption. She needed to get this out now or she never would.

“No. Listen to everything before you answer.” Nesta gave a shrug which Gwyn took as her agreement.

“I want to practice kissing, but there are no males that I trust enough to ask and I cannot ask females from the library. I figure if I practice enough it will not be so anxiety inducing for me. With everything that happened to me, I think it might be easier to start kissing females and work my way up to males. I think once I can kiss a male then I will know my trauma does not have that power over me and this is my really convoluted way of asking you to kiss me.” She snapped her mouth shut the second she finished rambling. She searched Nesta’s face for any emotion that might give away how she feels about the matter.

“ I did not think you fancied women.” Nesta said plainly.

“I suppose I have not paid much attention to any romance. But I would say I value the person over body parts.” Gwyn shrugged but her face was bright red from embarrassment.

“Okay, lay one on me.”

She gave a startled look to her friend, who was handling this much better than Gwyn was. The ease with which she accepted this made Gwyn inherently suspicious.

“Do you fancy women?” She looked at Nesta through narrowed eyes.

���Not particularly. But I love you Gwyn, and Cass won’t mind especially if it is to help you.” A very rare, coveted soft look blessed Nesta’s face. Gwyn found herself wanting to cry. She had not felt this type of companionship in years.

“I do not want you to feel obligated as my friend. I understand if you want to say no.”

“Do I appear as someone that feels obligated often?” Nesta asked with raised eyebrows. It made Gwyn giggle a little. Nesta grabbed Gwyn’s hand, forcing her to look at Nesta.

“Lay one on me, love.” Nesta’s face was beautiful as she smiled. It made Gwyn start to feel a little nervous. They were really doing this.

“I am going to start with my eyes open. It is easier to remind myself who I am kissing.”

“Okay.” Again, a soft smile graced her face as she used a soft voice. Normally Gwyn hated pity, but she appreciated Nesta being sensitive to the situation.

Even though her heart was beating out of her chest, she set her hands on Nesta’s shoulders and focused in on her lips. They were a standard set of lips. Medium sized, and smooth. Gwyn took one last deep breathe and shoved her lips against Nesta’s. They both could admit the kiss was awkward at best. Gwyn would take awkward over horrific any day though. She kept her eyes wide open while Nesta’s were closed. One may not even call it a kiss, really just two pairs of lips not touching. Neither of them moved a muscle. Gwyn realized it was because Nesta was letting Gwyn have complete control over the situation and that made her smile through the kiss. Once Gwyn was certain that no unwanted memories were waiting to overwhelm her, she puckered her lips and actually kissed her before pulling away.

“How was that?” Nesta asked.

“Terrifying.” Gwyn said with a grin. “Let’s try again.” She gave a sheepish look after a moments thought. “If that is fine with you?”

Nesta rolled her eyes before closing them and comically puckering her lips. Gwyn once again giggled before going in for a second kiss. Once again she started with her eyes open, but once her heart calmed down and she stopped worrying about the past, she closed her eyes. There was something comforting about kissing Nesta, it was not attraction or chemistry. Perhaps, love though. An intimate expression of platonic love that squeezed at Gwyn’s heart. It was easy to ignore the past when the scent of Nesta and books were so overwhelmingly comforting to Gwyn. When the feel of Nesta’s hands were so familiar. Or when her even breathes were so recognizable. Gwyn knew there was not a safer spot in the world than right by Nesta’s side. Gwyn decided to be bold and flick Nesta’s bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. It caused Nesta to squeak and open her eyes for a second before settling back into the kiss. Slowly, they both started deepening the kiss. A swipe of a tongue here, a turn of the head there. It was a nice kiss, mostly exploratory. Simply, Gwyn discovering her boundaries, deciding what might be too much. Gwyn lifted her hands to grip Nesta’s face, so that the kiss might be less awkward. Nesta kept her hands in her lap which Gwyn was grateful for.

The doors to the library burst open with an exuberant Cassian. Gwyn all but threw herself against the opposite side of the couch.

“Nes, I was thinking for tonight-“ he stopped abruptly at the sight he just walked in on. Gwyn thought his brain might be malfunctioning from system overload based on the expression on his face.

Gwyn suddenly felt very guilty. This must have looked much worse than it actually was to him. Gwyn briefly glanced at Nesta. While Gwyn was stiffly sitting on the sofa, Nesta was nonchalantly leaning against the arm of the chair from her spot. A small smirk rested on her lips. Cassian’s head had been comically bouncing back and forth from Nesta and Gwyn before resting on the latter.

“Are you trying to steal my mate?” He was trying to muffle a laugh and failing. Gwyn hid her face behind her hands as it flamed a brighter red.

“This is not what it looks like!” Gwyn muttered into her hands. Cassian sauntered right over to the couch and plopped himself between the girls.

“Do explain.” He nudged Gwyn with a smile on his face. She was glad he was not angry, but the last thing she wanted to do was explain. She looked to Nesta for help who ended up sighing very loudly.

“I was helping Gwyn with some intimacy problems.” Was all she gave as a response. Cassian dropped the smile and looked at Nesta with such a serious look that Gwyn wondered if she misinterpreted Cassian’s emotions. Maybe he was mad after all.

“Is Gwyn a better kisser than me?” He said it so seriously that all Gwyn could do was groan. Nesta giggled, which did not happen often, so Gwyn knew Nes was highly amused by the situation while Gwyn was mortified.

“Gwyn is the best kisser.” Nesta said earnestly.

Gwyn rolled her eyes as that as she continued to try and press herself as far into the couch as she possibly could. Cassian’s wings were still almost touching her and all she wanted was to disappear from this mortifying situation forever.

“Damn, now I want one. What do I have to do to get a Gwyn kiss?”

The teasing was too much for Gwyn to bare.

“Stooooop.” Gwyn whined as the mated couple tried to mask their laughter.

“Please, Gwyn?” He even puckered his lips at her. She knew he was joking, but she wanted it to stop and knew exactly how to get him to stop. Besides, this is the next level up on the intimacy scale for Gwyn with Cassian being a male and all. She quickly pressed her lips against his and pulled away just as fast.

A second later she realized how impulsive it was. She began forming an apology to both of them when she noticed they were both smiling genuinely. Gwyn rested her hands on her burning cheeks and looked away.

“I agree, Nes. She is the best.” Cassian replied as he threw both arms around the females shoulders.

“You two are the worst.” Gwyn whined as she realized they had teamed up against her to get her to kiss Cassian.

“I think this is means for celebration Gwyn.” Nesta ignored her complaints and continued smiling. “You kissed two people today and one was a male. Big accomplishments.” Gwyn huffed but could not stop the small smile that spread her lips.

“That is good.” Gwyn relented. Secretly she was glad that neither of them were upset.

“Before you know it, you will have made out with the entire night court inner circle.” Cassian joked. “I bet you could even manage to steal a kiss from Azriel’s shadows.”

“Well, they do like me.”

“Everyone likes you Gwyn. You are awesome.” Nesta held Cassian’s hand as they all sat on the couch.

Gwyn felt a punch to a stomach as she looked at their hands. It was longing, she discovered. She wanted to sit on a couch holding someone’s hand. She wanted to be so comfortable with a person that every move they made was in sync like Nes and Cass seemed. She sighed. One day she would get her happily ever after. There really was no rush.

[thxngam]

Can you do sort of a tangled au with tony as rapunzel and either Steve/Bucky/Clint/Thor as Flyn Ryder? (That’s a lot of choices, sorry 😅) I love your writing btw, you write adorable tony so well 😍

Here you go nonnie! And can I say—such an interesting idea! I hope I did it justice 😁😁

Tony doesn’t like his tower. Of course, he’s made his schedule and Obie seems pleased enough to get him the tools he needs for the general upkeep and improvement of his tower, and he couldn’t be more grateful, but he longs for the out. It looks absolutely magical from here, and Tony wants, more than he’s ever wanted in his life, to know if it feels and smells and sounds as magical as it looks.

(He hopes so. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if it’s not.)

So far, he’s readied himself for everything he needs; he’s got a satchel full of his nicest, most comfy breeches, a small knife, a canteen full of water, and all the food he could stuff into a bag and also carry. It’s somewhat of a long trek to the city and the castle at its edge, but Tony likes to think he’ll walk through fire for just a taste of freedom.

Obie says he’s being unrealistic, and that there are souls waiting for someone kind like him to prey on and attack--Tony shudders to even think about it--and that he was as naive as a child. But...he turns 18 in two days. He’s not a child. And besides, what’s learning without hands-on experience? The only thing he’s missing is a guide.

Fortunately, it’s like fate hears him and sends him help.

Tony was just finishing up his final touches to the pulley that’ll take him down to the ground when Obie comes rattling up the side of the tower, held by--something. Tony doesn’t know what exactly or he’d’ve taken advantage by now, but he does know it’s Obie’s way to get himself in and out--and to keep Tony stuck.

“Obie?” Tony calls curiously when there’s no shout. Obie did love an entrance, and he’d always, always, shown up with something grand to announce. “Are you--”

It’s a man. It’s a tall man, with a curious satchel to his side and a striking metal arm. The stranger doesn’t seem to realize he’s there. “Al--”

Thump!

Well, he certainly falls to the ground like a human.

...

The man wakes sluggishly, but when he seems to have his wits about him, he doesn’t seem to...do what a human would do. “Hey,” the man says. “The name’s Bucky Barnes.” Tony flushes down the neckline of his nightgown.

Tony’s not going to wait to play games. “Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my tower?”

The man--Bucky?--sighs. “Alright, I was running from some guys for reasons I refuse to disclose, and I saw this super convenient tower and I climbed it. If anything, it’s your fault.” Tony stares, as if any of that made sense.

“My fault?”

“Okay, maybe not,” Bucky gives. He sighs. “Now, instead of any of this hostage shit, you can untie me and me and my sa—“ he pauses. When he speaks again his voice is frantic and up at least a few notes. “Where is my satchel. Where.”

Tony crosses his arm. “I’ve hidden it,” he says smugly. “Somewhere you’ll never find it.”

Bucky looks to the side. “It’s in the pot isn’t it?” he asks flatly.

It’s a little telling that knocking him out a second time is as pleasurable as the first time.

…

“Now I’ve hidden it,” Tony says. “And you’ll get it back when you do me something.”

Bucky stares at him for a long moment before he sighs irritably in the seat. “Fine. What do you want?”

“I want you to take me to the city and see the floating lights.”

“Floating lights?” Bucky answers his own question. “Right the lantern thing they do on the prince’s birthday. What’s that gotta do with you?”

“I just,” Tony scrubs his hand over his face. “I just-I need to know. I need to know what it’s like. It’s like—something is calling me there, and it’s so loud I can hardly hear myself.”

Bucky stares dubiously. “You want to take me to take you to the city to see the lanterns and bring you back-“

“Safely,” Tony adds.

“Okay, bring you back safely. And then you’ll give me back my satchel?”

“Yes.” Tony gives him a half smile. “But first, I want to know why you are here. Did you-“ he circles Bucky slowly. “Hurt someone?” He brandished the pan, and Jarvis scrambles onto Bucky’s shoulder, hissing. “Did you...vandalize something?” He pauses, pan dipping. “Did you kill someone?” His eyes widen in horror. “Are you here to kill me?!”

“No! Why would I want to kill you? What on Earth would I want to kill you for?” Bucky squints suspiciously, aghast. “Have you done something worth killing for?”

Well that’s not where he was expecting this to go. “No! I haven’t-I’ve never left this tower before in my life,” he admits.

“You’ve never left,” Bucky repeats flatly. “Never. Never ever.”

Tony shakes his head. “It’s to keep me safe. Obie-Obie said that people outside would love to hurt someone like me, and I’m too naive and silly to stop.”

“Well,” Bucky says, and his voice is oddly kind. “I don’t think you’re silly or naive.”

Tony smiles halfheartedly. “I tied you to a chair, what do you care?”

“That’s the point, doll. You reacted to a threat quickly, efficiently and secured the threat. That’s a skill that most grown men still don’t have.”

“I’m not silly?” Tony’s voice is smaller than he wants it to be.

“Not really, princess. I don’t know this-this Obie person is, but he’s wrong about you.”

Tony sniffs and wipes his nose. “Princess?”

“Y’know.” Bucky gestures to his whole being tucked into a soft red dress, his feet bare. Tony knows there are flowers in his hair. He refuses to be ashamed about it. There is nothing wrong with taking delight at life’s softer pleasures; there’s not so many in a tower. Tony is going to live his life the way he wants to live his life, and he refuses to listen to a somewhat haughty man with a man bun tied to a chair, despite how kind he’d just been.“You look like a fairy. Harmless.” Bucky still winks infuriatingly. “Adorable.”

“Adorable?” Tony puts his hand on his hip and cocks one eyebrow. “Who brained you and tied you to a chair?” He doesn’t wait for a response, feeling emboldened. “Oh right, the fairy.”

“Brained?” Bucky sounds miffed, and Tony feels a spark of tenuous pleasure at the annoyed yet lighthearted bantering. He’d always been too scared to joke with Obie. “Really, princess?”

“It’s true,” Tony retorts before brandishing the frying pan at him again. “Do we have a deal or not?”

Bucky sighs heavily. “Sure we do princess. Now shake on it?”

“With what space? Your hands are tied up.”

Bucky’s grin is shit-eating. “You’re gonna haf’ to let me go eventually.”

...

Tony watches Bucky grunt as he goes down the stairs. “Alright princess,” Bucky shouts. “Your turn to climb down. Just take it slow--WHAT THE FUCK.”

Tony shouts all the way down, clutching the rope and the pulley as Jarvis clutches to the straps of his dress like his life depends on it. Well, he is the size of Tony’s palm. It sort of did. The wind rushes through his hair, and the roar is the most satisfying noise he’s every before-wait. He stops nothing but a bare whisper to the ground. It’s--frightening to be so close yet so far and yet Tony can’t bring himself to articulate his fears.

“Well?” Bucky’s voice is unexpectedly soft. “You can do it.”

It’s soft, is Tony’s first thought. His toes wiggle. It’s also very green.

And then it all seems to come rushing out of him, spilling like an overflowing bucket in a graceless torrent.

“Bucky! It’s so soft!” His thumbs rub over the blades of grass like they were more precious than any of the jewelry Obie had gifted him. His anklet clinks as he taps his feet excitedly. He doesn’t know why he was so scared just a moment ago. In hindsight, even if it hurt like a thousand tiny knives, it would’ve been the best thing ever anyway. Tony has never been so glad to not see something handmade. “It’s so green!”

“I know doll,” Bucky drawls. “I’ll wait until you’re done touchin’ grass though.”

Tony can’t even bring himself to be miffed at his lovely new tour guide’s attitude and bounces on bare feet towards--towards--

Tony doesn’t know, and that fierce unknowing makes him happier than being safe ever could.

Unbeknownst to him, the hard lines of Bucky’s face soften the slightest bit.

[coldlittlecuties]

Bundle Up

The boys are on an early season 1 hunt in Michigan but aren't quite used to how cold it is. (Words: 2086)

I might continue this if anyone is interested.

Dean shoved Sam through the entrance of the nearest store, the little bell above jingling. The younger hunter was shaking so harshly from the frigid Michigan air that Dean feared it was a seizure. He steered Sam over to the nearest vent, then began brushing off the snow while hot air blew over him.

"You okay?" Dean checked.

"F-F-FFF-F-Fi-Finnne," Sam stuttered.

"You're not fine, you're frozen! The Hell were you thinkin', man?!" Dean scolded. Sam looked at him with the most heart-wrenching puppy eyes he'd ever pulled. Of course him being all huddled up and shivery made it all the more effective.

Dean sighed. He brought his brother's icy hands out from his jacket sleeves to check for frostbite. "Look: I don't care how close you think the library is. When it's this freakin' cold, you call me to pick you up. You don't walk! Man, look at you! You better have all your toes."

"*fffffuhuhuhuhuh* N-N-NN-NN-No-ot th-th-that *buh-buh-buh-buh*bad," Sam denied. He then shuddered so hard Dean had to stop him from falling.

"Yeah, tell that to your teeth," Dean interrupted. "Geez, Sammy! If you're gonna be so underdressed, at least wear gloves."

"D-D-D-Do-on't ha-ha-avvve 'nnnny-y," Sam explained. Dean lightly smacked him upside his head.

"You should've said something! I told you we'd be close to Canada this hunt! Are these the warmest clothes you have?" He berated. Sam's lack of eye contact was all the answer Dean needed. He sighed, washing a hand over his face. "You trying kill me, Sammy?"

"Y-Y-You-u'd c-c-c-co-co-com*mmm*ee b-b-bb-back a-a-an *huhuhuh*haunt m-m-m-me."

"Damn right I'd haunt your ass," Dean smirked. "Now let's see if this place has anything to keep you from turning into the abominable snowman."

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The brothers have stayed in some pretty awful places: motels that reek of cigar smoke, empty houses infested with pests, even outside on cold concrete if the situation was dire enough. This cabin might be their least favorite place. Sure it looked beautiful, was clean, and free from rodents or bugs, but it was not built for winter.

It's insulation is nonexistent, the windows are single paned which let the chill seep into the cabin, there is no fireplace, and no matter where they are, there is always a draft to send shivers up their spines. Dean was convinced that the cabin was colder than the snowy forest outside. He was tempted to sleep in the Impala, but since she was made of metal, she would be even colder (though he doubted it was possible for colder temperatures to exist).

Their father trained them to withstand cold temperatures and how to deal with cold weather emergencies. Dean kept trying to regulate his breathing like he was taught. Every inhale felt like a brain freeze to his sinuses, even inside! Despite all of this, Dean was still more worried for his brother.

Sam has never been very cold tolerant. His skinny body just didn't hold in enough heat. Living in the warmer climate of the Bay Area made him even less tolerant. Dean's stomach clenched at the memory of his baby brother shivering through cold weather training, his teeth clacking together so intensely that even their father allowed him to wear another layer. It was excruciating to see his little brother freezing without helping him.

This time wasn't cold training. This is one of the circumstances they trained for. Only this time, Dean won't sit idly by while Sammy freezes to death. He'll do whatever it takes to keep him warm. Whatever he did, he knew he'd have to do it quickly. Dean could already see his brother shaking from the cold, even in his new winter clothes.

"Why don't you go find some more blankets and I'll see if I can pump some heat into this place," Dean suggested. Sam nodded, rubbing his arms as he walked away. Dean examined the cabin, trying to find a thermostat or a furnace: anything. He nearly cheered when he found the water heater. All he had to do was relight the pilot light and... done! In an hour, it would be warm enough for a hot shower or two.

"D-D-Dean!" The older brother sprinted to where he heard Sam call. "We d-d-don't have p-p-p-p-power."

"Hang tight, Sammy! I'll try to find the generator. Stay here!" Dean ordered before running off. He checked the kitchen, the living room, the hallway, the bedrooms, the closets, even the bathroom. It must be outside. Dean rushed outside and around the perimeter of the cabin. Finally, he found the generator piled under a mountain of snow. His gloved hands made opening the control panel very difficult, but if he took them off, he'd lose fingers to frostbite. Dean's hopes fell when the door opened to reveal every piece either rusted or frozen.

"Sonovabitch...," he grumbled, slamming the door shut. Hopefully whatever they had in the Impala could help, just until they could drive back into town for supplies. Dean ruffled through the trunk, the hidden compartment, the interior: all he found were a few more scraps of clothing and a lighter. He sighed.

"Generator's busted. We'll pick up stuff to fix it tomorrow. I did find a few more gloves and socks though," Dean explained, shaking off the snow from his jacket before putting it back on again.

"Don't worry, Dean. The stove's gas powered with a full tank of propane. It's kinda cozy," Sam replied, holding his gloved hands close to the lit burner. Dean was glad Sam wasn't shivering anymore. He knew from experience that it made his muscles sore as Hell.

"You wanna roast marshmallows and chestnuts?" The older brother teased.

"I know you're joking, but I could seriously use some hot chocolate right about now," Sam smirked, rubbing his arms again.

"You said it. We should get some mix. And some milk! Watery hot chocolate is disgusting," Dean added.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

After a couple of hours researching, Dean heated up a few cans of soup over the fire. It was getting dark, especially with the increasing snowfall. It wasn't too bad thanks to the candles they lit. They also provided some much needed warmth. Both boys divided the remaining clothes and blankets among themselves, Dean making sure Sam got whatever was warmest. His kid was bundled up in as many layers as he thought he could wear without Dean noticing. Of course, he did. But he wouldn't say anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean watched Sam blow into his gloved hands and bounce his legs. While waiting for the soup to warm up, he rifled through the cabinets in search of something that could help Sam. He found a few heat packs and even one of those aqua bead pouches that could be heated or cooled. There was also some tea and sugar. Dean started to heat another pot of water for the tea and to heat up the aqua pouch.

"*huh-huh'PSHH! h'NSHuuh! hih-GISHhuuh!*"

"Hey, Sammy. Why don't you take a break for a bit. Stretch thise freakishly long legs of yours," Dean suggested, hoping to lure his brother closer to the heat source.

Sam happily left the dining room chairs, taking the long route to the kitchen so he wouldn't be too obvious.

"*HISHhuuh! tchSHOO! Heh-hih-ihHSHSH!*"

"You getting sick?"

"No. My nose is just running 'cause it's cold in here. And my scarf tickles sometimes," Sam explained, hugging himself.

"Wanna try one of these hot pack things? They're suplosed to be for injuries but they advertise heat," Dean offered, already preparing a pack. Sam nodded, but Dean would've put the pack on him anyways. The younger hunter shuddered violently when his shirt was pulled up in the back. He felt the pack stick to him, then Dean let go of him.

As upset as Sam wanted to be with Dean for invading his personal space, the glorious warmth of the pack started to kick in. He sighed contentedly, almost purring, as it helped his shivery muscles loosen.

"It's so warm," he thought aloud.

"That's why it's called a hot pack, Sammy. Here, eat up," Dean explained as he handed Sam a bowl of soup. The brothers stood by the stove as they ate the soup and drank the tea. Both were savoring the warmth from the dishes as well as their contents.

"You think you're gonna be warm enough, tonight Sammy?" Dean checked, handing him the warmed aqua pouch.

"Yeah, I'm good. What about you, though?" Sam worried.

"I'm too hot to freeze!"

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Dean let out another shuddery breath as a chill wracked him. He tried to curl himself into a tighter ball, but it wasn't helping. The hunter was so cold he couldn't stop shivering. His teeth kept making that annoying chattering sound no matter how much he wrapped himself in the blankets. He even used some spare towels from the closets!

"S-S-S-S-Sa-ammmy's w-ww-wwarm-m-m," Dean kept telling himself. "*huhuhuh*He's wwwwa-warm a-a-and s-s-s-s-sa*fffff*fe." He then shivered so hard it rocked the bed. Dean was wearing every piece of clothing he could. Everything else (minus the Fed Suit) was mingled in with the towels and covers. How was he still this cold?!

Finally fed up with turning into a popsicle, Dean eased himself out of the blankets to stand by the stove for a while. He was amazed to feel how much colder the room was outside of his cocoon. All his shivering reminded him to check on Sam. Dean shuffled around the corner and into the kitchen. He turned on the gas for the stove, but couldn't work the lighter with his gloves. He took them off then shuddered impossibly harder.

He dropped his lighter with a loud *THUNK!*. Dean winced, hoping the noise didn't wake his little brother. He decided to turn off the gas until he could find another way to light the stove. No sense in poisoning them both. While he waited for an idea to come, he saw one of the hot packs on the counter. Dean took off his gloves on the other hand so he could open their package. But he was shaking too much to properly grasp it.

"I knew it!"

Dean whipped around as Sam came out of his room with a blanket wrapped around him.

"You lecture me about the importance of of staying warm and wearing plenty of layers while you go and do the exact opposite!"

"M'f-f-ff-fi-ine S-S-S-Sam," Dean assured.

"You're not fine, you're frozen!" Sam echoed, wrapping the blanket around his brother. He grabbed the dropped lighter, then lit the front burners. Dean gave a shuddery sigh as he felt the warmth and held his palms out.

"Here: put these back on." Sam watched Dean struggle to put the gloves on for a few seconds before doing it himself. Dean looked away as he huddled into the blanket. Sam opened the hot pack and slipped it onto his brother's back before he had a chance to protest.

"Why didn't you tell me you were freezing? I could've added more layers and given you more blankets!" Sam demanded, preparing a pot of water for tea.

"Y-Y-Y-You wwwere *cuh-cuh-cuh*co-old a-all ddday," Dean explained.

"And you've been freezing all night. Maybe even longer!"

"*muh-muh-muh-muh*my-y j-j-jjjob-b... p-p-p-prot-tect y-y-yo-ou...."

"What's my job then? Sit around all warm and cozy while my big brother freezes to death? I can deal with being cold. I can't deal with losing you too." Sam looked away and took a breath to compose himself.

"S-S-Sam-m-my?"

"I'm fine!"

Dean unhuddled from the blanket so he could pull his brother into a hug. Sam burried his face in Dean's shoulder as he relaxed into the embrace.

"S'ok-k-kay S-Sammy. I-I'm g-g-getting warm-m-mer nno-ow. M-M-M'ok-k-k-kay."

Sam nodded into his shoulder. Dean's shivering slowed to a stop after a few minutes. Neither brother was willing to let go of the other just yet.

"You wanna try to sleep a bit more?" Sam offered, suppressing a yawn. "You can stay in my room 'cause it's warm."

"Yeah. Let's get'cha to bed, Sammy," Dean chuckled. Reluctantly, they let go to walk into Sam's room. They crawled under the covers on opposite sides of the bed, but they ended up gravitating towards each other. Their chilly and sleepy minds only registered the soft warmth and the presence of his brother.

Sam was snuggled up against Dean's chest, his head tucked right under the older hunter's chin. Dean wrapped his arms around his kid and nuzzled his soft hair. That was how they fell asleep: warm, cozy, and protected.

[buymethesea]

dear @ask-kitchenwitchsanji! i was your secret santa for the @opsecretsanta2019 exchange and i’ve come to finally bring your gift (finally!). first, of all i want to apologize for the delay and wish you happy holidays and a happy new year. all the best for this coming decade ✨✨ for your gift, i wrote fic and i ended up going with the prompts of near death experience and angst, because that’s my jam too, and boy let me tell you, this one really ran away from me. i had a lot of fun writing and hope you enjoy it as well.

title: brave face characters: sanji, zoro, mentions of the rest of the straw hats. summary: actions have consequenses and zoro’s had enough. or, sanji puts his life in danger. again. words: 3 623 a/n: discussions of canon-typical violence and its more realistic consequences/death.

”What’s your problem, huh?”

Sanji blinks. Or he tries to, but his head hurts too much for the motion to be anything more than a slight wince.

Wait.

His head hurts?

Why?

What the fuck is going on? Did someone say something?

Fuck, it hurts.

---

”What’s your problem, Cook?”

There’s that voice again. Zoro.

Sanji grimaces. Of all the goddamn things in the world to wake up to-- He’s too fucking tired for this.

Shit, it really hurts all over. He must have been done in real good in their latest fight. Sanji grunts, tries to open his eyes. Slowly, his head is already pounding as it is. It takes a moment for his vision to clear, but sure enough he’s in the infirmary and the mosshead is sitting at the side of his bed. Gross.

Sanji moves his mouth. His lips are dry.

”What are you doing here?” he says. Tries to say. It’s annoying how hoarse his voice sounds, how weak. He must have been out of it for a good while.

Zoro doesn’t answer. Sanji would ask him again, but he’s too tired to bother and either way something is…off about the swordsman. The furrow of his brows, the set of his shoulders. It’s enough to unnerve Sanji, so he asks, has to ask:

“Is something wrong? Are the others okay?”

For some reason, that was the wrong thing to say because Zoro stands up abruptly, the look on his face mean as he replies:

“Look who’s talking.”

Normally that would be enough to goad Sanji into a fight but the shithead has a point. He’s too tired. He can barely keep his eyes open as is.

Zoro grunts and starts moving towards the door

“Everyone else is fine. I’m getting Chopper. Try to stay awake until he’s had a look at you, idiot,” he says and his voice is all even and quiet as he talks. Weird.

Try as he might it’s fucking hard, keeping his eyes open and Sanji feels himself drift back into nothingness.

 ---

 Third time’s the charm.

Sure, everything still fucking hurts when Sanji wakes but the fog clogging his head is slowly starting to clear.

“You have a real problem, you know?” Zoro’s voice comes from the side of the bed and Sanji wants to scream.

He turns his head (slowly, slowly) to glare at the swordsman.

“Hey fuckhead, you really got nothing better to do than torment me?” Sanji says and while the edge is missing from his voice at least it doesn’t give up on him in the middle of the sentence. Small steps and all that. “Last I knew the infirmary belonged to Chopper.”

Zoro grimaces, the look on his face harsh.

“Even doctors need to sleep. Wasn’t doing him any good, fretting over you every hour.”

Sanji’s mouth clamps shut. After a moments struggle, his compulsion to antagonize Zoro loses out to his increasing need to understand what the fuck is going on and what the hell happened to him. He starts out easy.

“What time is it?”

“Early morning, rest of the crew’s still asleep,” Zoro answers. “I’m on watch.”

“Sure,” Sanji says, and it takes all his willpower to not comment on the fact that the swordsman had apparently been spending his shift in the infirmary instead of the crow’s nest. There was probably a reason for that.

Sanji wets his lips. As he starts coming back to his body it dawns on him just how bad shape he’s in. All this from a fight? While he’s not sure exactly what happened, he remembers the skirmish and the small crew of two-bit marines they’d run into. None of the usual big guns that were after them, just some local division leader too high on his own supply to realize just how outmatched him and his men were.

It just doesn’t add up. From what Sanji can tell he’s been knocked out for a good while, and the crew had been worried enough to assign him a watch. And he feels like pure shit. His body feels weak, his limbs sluggish and heavy. Loathe as he is to admit it, Sanji doubts he could get out of bed on his own. His head hurts and, even worse than that, his chest aches. Not just the pain from broken ribs – that he recognizes – but his insides feel raw, irritated. Like his airways have been filled with broken glass, like something chafes with every breath he takes.

“What happened?” Sanji asks.

 “You drowned,” Zoro says.

Huh?

“Stop fucking around,” Sanji grits out.

“I’m not. You drowned.”

“Hey shithead, does it look like I’m in the mood for jokes?” Sanji shouts, “How the fuck would I drown?!”

Sanji doesn’t get an answer to that question. Right then the door is slammed open by Chopper who manages to look both rushed and newly awake, the hat on his head askew and his eyes wide-open.

“Sanji! You’re up,” their small doctor exclaims and then he pauses. Any other time and Sanji would have found it funny, the way Chopper’s face gave away the exact moment he took in the scene he’d walked into.

“Are you fighting?” Chopper asks, immediately he transforming into his man-form and getting between them. “But Zoro, you promised!” he berates as he drags the swordsman out from the infirmary.

“Yeah, yeah, apologies,” Zoro says, reaching up to straighten out the hat on Chopper’s head as he’s being shooed away. “The moron’s all yours, Doc.”

 ---

 With only Chopper left in the room with him, Sanji isn’t quite sure what to say. He can’t say he cares very much for the sickbed, and unlike the rest of the knobheads on their crew it’s not very often his injuries are bad enough to keep him confined. There are exceptions, sure, but overall this is a foreign experience.

“How are you doing?”

Chopper is the first to speak, expertly stepping into his role and Sanji has to smile.

“I’m fine,” he reassures, “Should be back on my feet in no time.”

So what, his body hurts. He’s alive and there’s no reason that anyone should have to worry about him.

“Don’t doubt that for a second,” Chopper replies as he comes closer. “Is it really that difficult, to rest up properly for once?” he wonders and it’s only when Chopper steps up right by the bed that Sanji notices just how wobbly a smile their little reindeer is sporting.

Sanji stays quiet while he’s examined from top to bottom. He doesn’t doubt Chopper’s capabilities, or intentions, but something about the whole thing seems—excessive and it makes his skin crawl.

“Hey,” he starts, keeping his voice to a gentle murmur so as to not startle Chopper while he’s drawing blood. “Everything good?”

Chopper hums, absorbed enough in his work that he doesn’t look up. “I’d need the results from your blood samples to make sure, and it still too early to rule out neurological damage…” he trails off, brain finally catching up to what he’d let slip. “Not that I’m too worried! Everything seems fine so far so you don’t need to worry either, okay?”

Sanji finds himself fidgeting, his fingers running over the small band-aid on the inside of his elbow.

“Of course not,” he says finally.  

 ---

 To his absolute dismay Sanji is prescribed further bedrest and Chopper expressively forbids him from returning to his duties in the kitchen. Sanji protests to the best of his ability, expecting to get some type of support from the rest of crew. But to his surprise there was only approval of Chopper’s decision, and Sanji realizes all hope is lost when he turns to his captain and Luffy’s face is been serious, as if he’d tried to think long and hard on the matter. "You need to rest up first Sanji. Captain's orders!"

Effectively barred from the kitchen and told to rest, there’s not much left from Sanji’s usual routine to occupy himself with. He sleeps a lot, and it’s not like it’s possible to be truly alone on a ship like theirs. Luffy seems to have made it his personal mission to fill Sanji in on whatever idiocy he and Usopp have come up with during the day, and Robin, bless her, has taken to dropping by with books from the library. One afternoon, Nami had cleared out space for herself at Chopper’s desk to work on her maps muttering something about the deck being too noisy ,and Brook keeps sticking his head in and asking for suggestions on what to play next, wandering off but somehow always straying close enough that Sanji can hear the music too.

Still, the days are long and the nights even longer, and so when the ship is quiet and dark, Sanji broods.

It’s starting to catch up with him, the strangeness of the situation and his mind is filled with thoughts he’d rather not linger on. Like the relief on the faces of the crew that morning when he’d first woken up, when they’d filed in one after another with that same expression on their faces and that same weight leaving their shoulders as they caught sight of him. Like the state of his body, still so goddamn tired and worn.

‘You drowned’ Zoro had said and Sanji still doesn’t know what that means.

 ---

 One night it all gets a little too much. Desperate to get a moment’s reprieve from the noise inside his head Sanji listens and waits. On the other side of the infirmary door the crew of the Sunny are slowly but surely settling for the night and finally the ship is silent. Sanji knows that Luffy has the first watch of the night which just means that their captain will be sleeping in the crow’s nest instead of in the men’s cabin, and so Sanji only looks around once before he steps out from the infirmary onto the deck.

It’s cold.

What was it Nami-san had said yesterday, they’d entered the climate zone of an Autumn island? It’s been a second since Sanji’s shivered like this, but wrapped in one of the blankets from his sickbed the chill against his skin makes him feel alive. He breathes in, holds the air, exhales. Fuck, he could really use a cigarette right now.

Sanji stands outside for a good while watching the sea and tasting the salt in the air. Some self-medication, he thinks to himself and snickers.

Next is the galley. He’s not stupid enough to go against doctor’s orders and try to cook something, but a cup of tea that he’s brewed himself, getting the stand in front of the stove and soak in the heat. He thinks that’d do him good.

So of course, because the universe hates him, he opens the door to the galley and steps inside only to find that he’s not alone. The lights are off but moonlight streams through the portholes and by the table Zoro is drinking.

Sanji stands by the threshold and curses the world.

Zoro looks up from his drink, his face infuriatingly stoic as he opens his stupid mouth.

“You’re not supposed to be here. Chopper’s gonna have your head.”

Sanji grits his teeth. Maybe it’s just as well that he’s not smoking, he would have bit through his cigarette by now otherwise.

“Shut up,” he mutters as he makes his way to the stove. It’s not worth it, starting a fight. Besides…”You’d snitch on me, mosshead?”

Zoro grunts and takes another swig from his bottle. It’s the good sake that Sanji had hid way back in the pantry. He imagines not much is left out of that stock.

Sanji inhales slowly and turns away. No fighting, he repeats inside his head like a mantra as he prepares his tea. It’s not worth it.

To his great disappointment Zoro's still sitting there when he turns back. He scowls as he takes a seat at the table but makes sure put his cup down gently.

He takes a sip, closes his eyes. Despite the unwanted presence on the other side of the table he feels himself relax. Why wouldn’t he? The galley is his domain, his second skin. Fuck, as much as he needed fresh air, this is it. Inside the galley, the heart of the ship, he’s okay.

When he opens his eyes he finds Zoro staring at him and at once the smile on his face drops. This fucker. The mosshead isn’t even drinking anymore. The bottle’s empty, his arms are crossed over his chest, the expression on his face unreadable as he keeps. Fucking. Staring.

Sanji’s had enough.

“What’s your problem?” he says and he tries to keep his voice calm, neutral. His voice is still raspy, even though it’s been days since he woke up.

Zoro face hardens.

“That’s my question.” He leans forward to rest an elbow on the table. “Actually, I've been asking you for a while now but no dice.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sanji wants to say. Unfortunately, he remembers the mosshead glued to his side in the infirmary, asking that one question with various degrees of rudeness attached. But that had only been until he’d woken up properly. The idiot sure had been making himself scarce since then.

“I have no idea what your taking about?” he says instead.

It takes a while for Zoro to respond, finally he says:

“Do you remember what happened?”

Sanji glares.

“No,” he admits finally. As much as he hates it he realizes at once what Zoro means and that this is his best shot at finally getting some answers.

“You drowned—” Zoro starts but Sanji interrupts him at once. He’s not here to listen to bullshit.

“Talk sense, mosshead. Start from the beginning.”

There’s no way I drowned.

It’s Zoro’s turn to glare, but if looks could kill Sanji would be burning in hell a hundred times over so he ignores him.

Then – finally �� Zoro starts talking.

“We were about to leave the latest island when a bunch of marines ambushed us. The usual weaklings”

Sanji nods. That much he remembers, it had only been him, Luffy and the mosshead fighting while the others prepared the ship to set sail, stowing away their shopping and what not. It’s after that shit gets blurry.

“Well, their captain was apparently the ambitious type, had invested in all this advanced weaponry. Out of the norm on a small base like this one but still no different from the shit we’d run into before. We thought.” Zoro goes on speaking, his voice the usual drone but something about it is still unnerving, maybe it’s because Sanji knows that something ends up going south.

“So he kept going on about all his toys, you know the type, but then he mentioned something kinda troublesome. Some genius had come up the idea to combine those seastone nets of theirs with a bazooka or whatever. He said that, the marine captain, and aimed at Luffy.”

“Luffy didn’t notice, he was fighting some martial artist and he’s never been the type to listen twice to weaklings. But you did, Cook,” Zoro says, his face serious as he stares at Sanji. And Sanji realizes that that strange undercurrent to Zoro’s voice is rage.

“You heard the guy,” he continues, “and instead of shouting out a warning or kicking Luffy out of the way and dodging, you took the hit for him and was sent flying into the sea. And sure, you’re good swimmer but that net knocked the air out of you, and in the blink of an eye you were sinking. ‘S not like you can kick you’re way out of seastone, either.”

Sanji swallows. Not his greatest moment, but still.

“Big deal, someone got me out, right?”

Zoro’s not amused.

“You see, Cook. It took a moment, since both Luffy and I were busy with our own fights and that idiot is useless in the water anyway. But sure I jumped in after you and by the time I got you out the marines were done with. But seastone’s heavy, it slowed me down.”

Sanji’s stunned. That’s an unexpected confession, coming from the swordsman. It makes him uncomfortable.

“Called for Chopper when I got out because you weren’t responding. Think you swallowed a decent amount of water. He wanted to start compressions, you know, but seastone’s a bitch. It took you a while to free you, especially since four out of the crew couldn’t even help out.”

“You weren’t breathing when we finally got you free from the net. Chopper couldn’t find at pulse. You drowned.”

Sanji’s stomach churns. “Then what?” He manages to choke out.

Zoro shrugs. “Chopper started compressions, tried to get you breathing. The others helped him move you to the infirmary, and I guess they got you going after a couple of minutes. I’m not sure. I was trying to calm Luffy down."

“Why,” Sanji whispers.

“He would have killed those marines otherwise.”

Sanji runs his hands through his hair. He doesn’t want to look at the Zoro right now.

Fuck. The grip on his hair tightens. All this while he’d imagined all kinds of scenarios and yet the truth is worse than anythings he's managed to conjure up. He wants to accuse the other of lying, of making things up to fuck with him, but he knows Zoro’s not the type. Not even Usopp would lie about something like this. He feels bile at the back of his throat.

No wonder then. That he’d been feeling like shit. That the others had been looking at him like something fragile and precious. That Zoro was furious with him.

Speak of the devil.

“I’m gonna ask you again, Cook. What’s you problem?”

Sanji wants to laugh. Fuck this guy really, for choosing to do this now while his mind was still reeling.

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Then, why'd you take that hit in Luffy’s place instead of getting him out of the way?”

“Fuck if I know. I was just trying to save him. You would have done it too.”

Zoro sneers, the look on his face meaner than ever.

“Wrong. Anyone of us in the crew would have saved him, sure. Only you would put your sorry ass at risk, because you’re the only here with a death-wish.”

Sanji sees red.

“Like you’re the one to talk,” he spits out. “After Thriller Bark.”

“I was never going to die.”

Sanji stands up and it’s only the vertigo from rising so suddenly that stops him from kicking the swordsman through the wall. The hypocrisy is enough to throw all his senses awry.

“I was there, remember? I heard you offer your head in Luffy’s place!”

Sanji’’s self-aware enough to admit he’s the hotheaded type of guy. He doesn’t know how he finds it within himself to still keep a respectable volume.

Zoro grinds his teeth. Looking at him properly, Sanji can spot all these signs that tell him the calm Zoro’s projecting is a façade. The tense posture, the unnatural clench of his jaw. Suddenly Sanji’s tired, the fight running off him like water. He wishes they could just fight it out, cut through the tension with swords and kicks, without uttering a single world. Instead they’ve been reduced to this. It��s not like them.

“I remember,” Zoro says. “I know what I said, but unlike you I had the resolve to not die. Kuma was never gonna kill me.”

Sanji sits back down. He wants a smoke. He wants to not be here.

“You’re saying I would have died, and that’s why you knocked me out,” Sanji can’t help the resentment that colors his voice.

“Yes.”

“Because I’m weak.”

“Yes.”

There it is. It took two years but there it is. An admission.

“Don’t get me wrong, idiot. I’m not taking about your fighting ability, in that sense you’re as strong as any,” Sanji gets the distinct feeling that saying this out loud is like pulling teeth for Zoro. “But you’re fine with sacrificing your life, and that makes you weak.”

Sanji bites the inside of his cheek.

“That’s not true,” he counters but finds his voice unconvincing. He blames the early hour. The state of his body. Anything.

It would take a hundred years before he’d admit that Zoro has a point.

Zoro shakes his head and for a brief moment the mask is off. Instead of stern, he just looks weary and in the moonlit galley the shadows under his eyes are pronounced.

“I don’t how to get through to you,” he says and Sanji’s reminded of how young he is. How young they both are when it comes to the grand scheme of things; despite how much they’ve been through. But the moment passes and Zoro stands up.

Sanji realizes he missed his chance, but he not sure for what, and maybe that’s for the better.

“One more thing.” Zoro stops by the doorway, not even bothering to look back. “You’re not putting the crew through this again.”

The door falls shut behind him and Sanji is alone. 

He leans his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?

Sure, this one was unecessary, but Sanji knows the sea is cruel. He's not naive enough to think that their little crew, however much they mean to him, are special enough to coast by without coming across tragedy or hardships. And maybe that means that somewhere deep down, unconsciously, he'd promised himself that when the time comes it's him and not them. Never them.

He'll just have to be smarter about it.