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thesnackthatsmilesbacck · 22 hours ago

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🧨 Try Me

Or: The time Dynamite replied to your thirst tweet and you briefly forgot how to exist

You’re in bed. It’s sometime after 2 a.m.—2:49, specifically, because you’re looking at the time in the corner of your screen and wondering when exactly you started measuring your nights in percentage of battery left rather than hours of sleep remaining.

The blue light burns into your retinas like you're being punished. You know this is bad for your sleep. You’ve read the studies. You’ve seen the TikToks. You’ve also been here before. This exact place: head half-buried in your pillow, a hoodie you haven’t washed in a week pulled over your knees, your thumb aimlessly scrolling until it feels like your thumb is the one doing the thinking.

And then—

It happens.

A tweet. No context.

Bet none of you could take me anyway.

— @DynamightOfficial

2:47 a.m.

You freeze.

Not in the way people mean when they say it metaphorically. You literally freeze—thumb hovering, heart stuttering, stomach twisting like it forgot which direction is “down.”

Because it’s him.

Bakugou Katsuki. Dynamight. Number two hero. Number one problem in your adult life. Professional menace. Certified weaponized male aggression. Your brain’s least safe place to go at night and yet the one it always returns to, like a tongue to a sore tooth.

You stare at the tweet.

It’s nothing. Just twelve words and a digital timestamp. But you read it again. And again. As if the pixels might rearrange themselves into something safer. Less loaded.

But they don’t.

Bet none of you could take me anyway.

It’s not just the words. It’s him saying them. At 2:47 a.m., which is in your opinion is the horniest time of night. It’s the complete lack of punctuation. The aggression that seeps through the screen. The fact that you know—you know—he meant it in both ways. He always means it in both ways. That’s the problem.

Or maybe that’s the whole reason you’re here.

Your brain does this thing when you get nervous—it splits. Like a cracked mirror, every version of you reflecting something slightly different. The part of you that’s amused is like: “Haha, feral tweet from a feral man.” The part of you that’s anxious is like: “Delete your account. Move to rural Canada. Learn to churn butter.” And the part of you that runs your Twitter smut account is already opening the quote tweet box.

You don’t think. Not really. It’s muscle memory at this point.

“Try me. I’ve already taken you in every way imaginable. Check the pinned.”

You hit send.

And then you sit there in the silence that follows, heartbeat going too fast in a body that isn’t even moving. Your screen is too bright. Your room is too quiet. Your brain is too loud.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. You’ve tweeted worse. You've written worse. Your entire pinned thread is dedicated to cataloging the (imaginary) ways Dynamight has rearranged your guts like God intended. You once tweeted, “If I die, bury me face-down so Dynamight can sit on my neck.” That got four thousand likes. This is nothing.

But this feels different.

Because this time, he tweeted first.

And something about that—about him speaking into the void and you answering like you’ve been waiting to catch his words midair—feels too real. Too close.

You try to scroll away. But your hand shakes. So you just lie there. Screen glowing. Brain buzzing. And eventually, you fall asleep—if you can call it that.

---

You wake up six hours later to a vibration that doesn’t stop.

Your phone buzzes off your nightstand and clatters to the floor. You groan. Reach for it. Your thumb catches the screen.

And then you see it.

> DynamightOfficial wants to message you.

You sit up so fast you see stars.

For a full three seconds, you stare at the notification like it’s a hallucination. Like your brain has finally given up trying to differentiate between your delusions and your timeline.

But it’s there.

Blue check. Hero account. Him.

You’re not awake. You’re dreaming. You’re in a coma. You died and this is some uniquely customized hell.

You tap it.

Message request: @DynamightOfficial

> you’re outta your fuckin mind

You choke. On nothing. On air. On the weight of your own self-respect, which is currently collapsing like a flan in a cupboard.

He messaged you.

There’s another one.

> what’s your name

No greeting. No “hey.” No “lol.” Just two messages, four words each, and the kind of syntax that feels like a punch to the sternum. It’s so him you could scream.

And you do. Into your pillow. Loudly. Twice.

Because this can’t be happening.

This is the kind of thing you joke about. The kind of thing you tell your group chat while giggling and pretending you’re not serious: “What if he saw the smut thread and actually liked it? What if he DMed me? Lmao, can you imagine???”

And now he has.

And all you can think is: He saw it. He read it. He read the things I said about his hands.

And then another ping.

> send your fuckin face. need to see who the hell writes shit like that.

You black out for a second.

Just a brief, graceful loss of self.

Then you pace your room like it might stop being your room if you circle it fast enough. Your skin feels like a bad disguise. Your thoughts are piling up in your mouth. You don’t know who you are. You are a brainstem with anxiety. You are a single, vibrating nerve ending.

And yet—your fingers open the camera.

You don’t know why.

Maybe you want proof this is happening. Maybe you want to test him. Maybe you’ve spent so long crafting fantasies in your head that you want to see what happens when one fights back.

You snap the pic.

Just your face. A little lip bite. A little neck. Natural light. The kind of photo that says “I’ve got thoughts you aren’t ready for.”

You hit send.

Read.

He’s typing.

He stops.

He starts again.

> dinner. you’re paying. i wanna see if your mouth works as fast as your thumbs.

You die.

You die and your ghost reads it again and whispers: What the fuck is going on.

You don’t remember what you responded with. Something stupid. Probably “sure.” Probably “okay.” Maybe just your address. Maybe nothing at all.

All you know is that it’s Friday, and you’re standing in front of your closet like it holds the secret to seduction and salvation, and your stomach hasn’t unclenched since noon.

It’s not that you haven’t gone on dates before.

It’s that none of them have started with your smut thread and ended with Bakugou Katsuki telling you to wear the lip bite.

You’ve reread the messages about forty times. You’ve gone back and forth between deleting your account and updating your pinned tweet to something more poetic, like: “This is how it starts. God help me.”

He hasn’t messaged since. And part of you keeps wondering if it was a joke. If it was a dare. If it was a PR stunt gone rogue. You even spent an hour Googling “deepfakes + Twitter DMs” before your roommate told you to shut the hell up and go shave your legs.

You don’t remember getting dressed. You don’t remember walking out the door. You barely remember the cab ride, because your thoughts looped the entire way there:

What if he doesn’t show?

What if he does?

What if he’s disgusted?

What if he reads my face like a book and doesn’t like the ending?

What if I say something dumb?

What if I say something too smart and he thinks I’m pretentious?

What if I say nothing at all?

By the time you arrive, your heart is beating so fast it doesn’t feel like it belongs in your chest anymore. Like it’s a borrowed thing. Like you’re just holding it until someone more qualified comes along.

The place he picked isn’t fancy. It’s not even particularly private. A late-night ramen spot tucked off a quiet street in the city. Clean tables. Dim lighting. No music. Just the hiss of broth and the clink of bowls. You wonder if he comes here often, or if he chose it because it’s the kind of place no one would expect to see him. No cameras. No crowds.

Just him. And you.

You step inside.

He’s already there.

He’s sitting in a corner booth, hood up, eyes scanning the room like he’s ready to bite anyone who recognizes him. He’s wearing black. Of course he is. Not dramatic, not sleek—just Bakugou. Comfortable but on edge. Coiled. Like he’s always thirty seconds away from going feral.

You freeze.

He looks up.

His eyes catch yours.

He doesn’t smile.

He stares.

You feel it—like heat, like gravity, like a trap closing around your ribs in slow motion. He looks at you like he’s seeing something he wasn’t ready for. Like he didn’t expect you to look like this. And you don’t know if that’s good or bad.

But then he gestures at the seat across from him with a flick of two fingers. Like you’re late to a meeting. Like he’s been waiting.

You sit.

You are aware of your body in a way you didn’t know was possible. Aware of your hands. Your breath. The way your voice might crack if you speak too soon. You want to crawl out of your own skin and start over. You want to kiss him through the table.

You want a lot of things you can’t say out loud.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” he says, finally.

His voice is lower in person. Rougher. Like it’s been scraped through gravel and fire and came out angry on the other side. There’s no filter. No politeness. He talks like he punches: direct. Blunt. Aimed to connect.

You laugh, nervous. “Didn’t think you were serious.”

He scoffs. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?”

You blink.

He leans forward. “You think I go ‘round DMing just anyone who writes about sittin’ on my face?”

Your soul leaves your body.

You attempt to make a sound that isn’t a dying bird.

“Fuckin’ hilarious, by the way,” he mutters, like he’s talking to himself. “Some’a that shit was too accurate.”

“You read it?” you whisper.

He tilts his head. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

You want to die. But not in a bad way. In the way that means you want to explode into dust and float into the air and never come down.

You swallow. “...Do I owe you royalties?”

That gets a smirk. Barely there, but real. He slouches in the booth, spreading his legs a little, like he owns the air around him.

“You write about me like you’ve been there,” he says. Not accusing. Curious.

“I—” You pause. “I research.”

“You imagine.”

Your cheeks burn. “Yeah.”

His eyes drag down your face. To your mouth.

“Showed,” he says. “In the threads.”

You can’t look at him. You’re too seen. You’ve never been more clothed and more naked in your life.

A waiter comes. He orders for both of you. No menus. Just confidence.

You’re still reeling when the food arrives, steam curling in the space between you like a bridge.

You talk. About dumb things. About nothing. You think you black out for half the conversation, but you remember that he listens—really listens. He doesn’t look at his phone. He doesn’t talk over you. He just watches. Like he’s trying to match you to the version of you that lives in his head now.

You try not to fall in love with that. But it’s hard.

At the end of the night, he pays. You don’t argue. You remember the text—you’re paying—but he brushes you off when you reach for your wallet. “You’ll pay next time,” he says. Like it’s a promise. Like he’s already decided.

He walks you home.

The city is quiet. Your stomach is louder.

You want to ask a hundred things. What this is. What he wants. Whether he’s going to ghost you after this or kiss you on the sidewalk.

You don’t ask.

Because when you reach your building, he stops. Looks at you. The streetlight hits the edge of his jaw, and your breath catches on the thought: He’s real. This is happening. I am not dreaming this.

And then he leans close.

Close enough that you feel his voice before you hear it.

“Next time you write about me,” he says, low and warm and rough in your ear, “make it a little more accurate.”

You freeze.

“Don't worry, i'll give you material.”

And then he walks away.

Just like that.

While you stare at him with your mouth agape.

#bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #mha

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sheepispink · 2 days ago

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The Presence of Another

supersoldier!reader x ltghost (+ tf141)

part 9 of Weaponised Series Masterlist

a/n: all relationships are platonic, prolly some ooc who knows

part one previous next

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You sleep surprisingly fine without the stuffed animals, and you wake up around twenty minutes after Ghost does. It’s not much of an issue, since you both get to the mess hall in time to sit opposite the two sergeants, who seem awfully indifferent to the fact you had passed out yesterday. Or perhaps they really didn't know, because they just spent the whole time debriefing you about the mission they went on whilst Ghost would occasionally signal them to cut out parts he didn't want you knowing— more specifically the men who had died in your place.

Thankfully, duties had called them away before they could talk your ear off and now the two of you were headed down to the smaller gym which is always emptier and so far quieter.

“So, how long do you usually run?”

“Five miles? 20 laps usually.”

His brows raise for a second before he shrugs it off, writing something down on the clipboard he has. It’s somewhat amusing to you, even for a split second, seeing Ghost holding up a clipboard like that. Maybe you’ve been hanging around the sergeants far too much, but he really does not look like the type of guy to even touch one of them. “Oi, pay attention.” His pen taps the corner of the board, rolling his eyes when he sees that dazed look, and you sheepishly shake your head to snap out of it. “At what point does it start getting painful?”

“Well, my vision gets a little hazy around the fourth, but it’s only painful half a mile after.”

Hearing you talk about your struggles so casually will never be normal to him, but he knows that if he tries to address it now, it’d only cause more problems— right now, he’s on thin ice.

“Right. We’ll start with just four miles every day now—”

“But I always do five. I’ve done five for months now.” For once, you interrupt, features twisting as he reduces your laps just because you felt a bit off. For you, it didn't matter all that much— the pain was part of this life— so you didn't understand the need for it.

“Well, clearly you’re not in the same state as you were last month when you could do it, hm? Remember those pills you didn't take? The seizure?” His reminder is slightly harsh, but it’s true— you weren't the same person anymore. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, he definitely wasn't the same person he was before he met you, nor was he the same person when he started the force. Though, he can understand why it might feel that way for you. The only way you’re supposed to move is forward, never backwards. Thankfully, you seem to have got the memo when you don't argue any further.

“Good. How about your arm and leg workout then?”

He’d be a liar if he didn't find it somewhat amusing when you’d get a little riled up at each of his decisions. You can't stand changing from routine, that’s clear, but even the slightest change for your own health has your brows furrowing and cheeks puffing. Though, you do end up agreeing to all his plans by the end of it, especially when he promises to only trial it for two weeks. Now you’ll take a break after three miles, run the next mile and, depending on if you get dizzy or not, you’ll run the next half mile too. As for the workouts, he has you on very basic warmups to begin with, stretches are a must since you tend to skip them in your haste; you even promised that you’ll drink at least half a litre between each workout now.

Part of the reason you agreed was only because he had promised he’d find something to occupy you in exchange for everything he cut out. He didn't want to give you something too slow, since he knows that it’d just allow your mind to easily consume and eat at you again, so he has to think smarter— he has to think in your shoes… This might take a while.

————

You’ve noticed a few changes in your schedule ever since you requested to be in Ghost’s room.

First of all, the sergeants are pretty adamant in feigning anger at you for not picking either of them, giving you a playful nudge whenever you complain about Ghost not letting you do things and insisting they would. It had horrified you the first time, after Price’s reaction you had thought they were being serious and almost panicked. Ghost had scolded them after that. Now you roll your eyes as Gaz pretends to be hurt by the ‘blatant favouritism’ as he calls it.

Another thing is that post workouts are a lot different. Your schedule has changed massively since you had been the perfect soldier, starting with meals with the team and their doting. Now, instead of eating whatever scraps there are for dinner and scrubbing yourself raw as fast as you can in the communal shower rooms, you take long warm showers in Ghost’s bathroom. Apparently he’s had a budget allocated for you by the higher ups for some time, and it’s racked up to a big amount after the months it wasn't put to use. Not that you would’ve really asked for anything if you knew, but now you get some nice smelling soaps— never lavender though.

Ghost did keep your ‘bedtime’ roughly the same, after he figured out you even set yourself one.

“You get tired awfully early.” He had stated when you yawned during an evening walk with him. It was the fifth day of this new regime, and you didn't really think it was that big of a deal. “I used to always sleep at eight thirty—that was my usual time.”

“Eight? Why?”

You blink, not really thinking much into your self-proclaimed bedtime because when things worked, things worked. You didn't need to question further, did you?

“I.. It started after the second week I came here, I think.” Now that he’s got that train of thought running, you can’t help but question how it even came to that early, or maybe it was only because you really had nothing else to do. “I wasn’t eating all that much, so I relied on sleep for energy instead. At least, that’s how I made the decision I think. Plus, that’s when I'd get startled by nightmares, so I had to give enough time for me to wake up every night and then fall back asleep whilst still getting a good amount of it.”

He stops walking and cocks his head, gesturing for you to sit and the wood creaks when he finally settles too. Nights are still cold, so you have his flimsy hoodie protecting your arms, and he’s bundled in a warm jacket. The both of you are quiet for a little, your eyes focusing on the forest where you had hidden in only a month ago now. Sometimes you still wait, listening for the small yips, a rustle of the bushes or the slightest flash of orange— any sign of that little fox.

“You know it’s fine, right?”

“What?”

“Don’t go believin’ every word you’re told. You don't need to push yourself to run five miles. You’re allowed, and should stop when it hurts.”

Ever since that evening you’ve believed his words, in fact you’ve believed everything he’s said to you. It was more than the Captain had ever said to soothe you; it was even more than what that medic had promised you. It wasn’t pity, nor was it even comfort— it was cold hard truth, a command if anything. Weirdly enough, that made your stomach settle, and you didn't doubt it for a second, choosing to just nod and listen.

So, you stopped arguing, stopped complaining when he gave you a proper breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You definitely didn't complain when he nudged you to bed at eight thirty because, for every day in this strange new regime, you’ve been working just as hard as before and not once have you ever felt that crushing pain.

———————

It’s been a week and a half, and you stumble in at eight o clock as usual. Sometimes Ghost isn't here, and sometimes he is, it really depends on the day. The others have all their differing schedules, and you’re okay with it really— you kind of like the alone time you’ve got now that they’re not coddling you anymore. Price has also kept a fair distance ever since he got angry with you. He did in fact talk to you mildly about it, but after Ghost told him that he’d handle your overexertion he’d dropped the matter quickly. Now you rarely saw him, apart from the occasional uncomfortable breakfast, but the sergeants made sure that the silence never grew too awkward.

You change into your pajamas, which happens to just be one of Ghost’s old shirts, and then the one pair of joggers you own. One thing you discovered after staying in his room was that you could get away with practically anything just by the excuse of your wellbeing. Maybe Soap was rubbing off on you just a tad.

Now you wear his shirts to bed, because you still haven’t bought me anymore, you say, and he rolls his eyes, begrudgingly letting you take them. Sometimes when he comes to bed he finds you sprawled out like a starfish, taking up as much space as you can just so he grunts, pushing you to the side easily. When he asks about it in the morning, you just shrug, refusing to believe that you even do any of that. He doesn't pay too much mind to your little antics, quickly reminding you that you’re still on punishment for what you pulled and that he can make you sleep on the floor if he so wishes.

You climb onto the bed with a sigh, feeling strange without the usual weight in your arms, nor the softness of your old duvets. Ghost’s weren't bad, no they were comfortable, but you had got too used to your old ones, and now you were regretting pulling your little escapade in the first case. Well, you suppose that was the point of the punishment, to make you regret your actions.

With a soft huff you push your face into the pillow, forcing your eyes shut so you don't think too hard about how quiet this room sounds without him, or how cold the bed is. There are things to do tomorrow— you need to stop caring.

————

Your fingers curl into fists, the sheets rubbing against your skin as you squirm and push your head further forward, trying to push through the haze that seems to attack you with every blink.

Nothing happens, no light greeting you even with how far you’ve run, and so for once you stop, swallowing sharply. You thought you could handle this, the visions, they never got this bad, and Ghost never noticed anyway— but this was different. Slowly, you take deep breaths, try to concentrate on the whispers swirling around, the flashes of colour that never quite linger for a second longer.

Your hand snaps to the side, grabbing something— or someone— by the neck. You don't dare look, already recognising the cruel voices of the petty soldiers who tried to kill you. Well, they’d be the ones to die this time

Releasing your grip, the body dissipates between your fingers, mere dust as your chest pumps harder, something pushing you further. The deep breaths don't settle the race this time, only tingling your nerves as something looms, towers over you. Not this time. Never again.

Your arm shoots out, the figure right there for you to grab, but you miss, grabbing at the air. Though the figure still overlooks you, threatening as it leans closer and closer. You steady yourself, desperately trying anything and everything to grasp the heavy pressure weighing down on your chest, the monster tearing into your throat. Every night it worked, so why not this one? Why not this time?

——

So many unanswered questions contaminate your brain, but the second the light finally fills your eyes all you can think of is “What- what’s going on?”

You’re pressed against the floor, pain rumbling through your middle with the heavy lamp rolling away from you on the hard floor. Two hands lock your wrists still, brown eyes staring back at you in the dark of the room. “A nightmare.” Ghost breathes out and, if not for his pale nose huffing out in relief when he lets go, you would’ve thought this was still the dreamscape.

Slowly you push yourself up onto your elbows and then to finally sit upright, nose twitching at the pain in your abdomen before you just swallow hard and finally look around. Now you notice the lampshade has been knocked far away, a small crack also running up the base of the lamp itself. You must’ve fallen off of the bed in your haze and, similar to other experiences, grabbed onto the lamp which landed directly onto your chest. Well, that explains the pressure you were feeling.

He watches you for a few moments, as your breaths heave, and then you eventually steady yourself, eyes locked on your hands like you’re searching for the usual marks left behind. “This the first one you’ve had?” Recently, anyway. He doesn’t say it, but you know it’s lingering as he stares down at you, your eyes tracking every crease as his lips move, every twitch of his brow and bob of his throat. You shake your head, and he nods, understanding, and his eyes roam over your body yet again, watching the way your fingers curl against the hardwood floor.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Somehow his voice sounds softer, even if it's at the exact same volume, and you slowly shake your head, his brow furrowing just slightly at your words. You know he wants you to tell him; it’s not like you’ve never talked about them before, in fact you have plenty of times. The scientists never allowed you much privacy.

“Can’t tell you. I don't even know what happened myself.”

Your answer is vague, and honestly a little suspicious. Though, he just locks onto your eyes for a few moments, slowly looking over your features before eventually reaching forward and giving his hand out to help you up. You take it, his large hand tightly pulling you upright before he leans down to pick up the lamp and its shade, placing it back on the counter. “I knew my duvets were pretty bad, but I didn't think you’d rather fall off the bed than be in them.” He mutters, acting like he hadn't just tried to joke with you so casually, before kicking some slippers over to you. “C’mon.”

You follow him down the corridor, down towards your room where he slides his key in and opens it. The room isn't how you remembered leaving it, covers thrown on the floor, drawers, and the closet opened wide and even clothes cluttered on the floor. “Price ordered some soldiers to search your room.” He gruffly states, and you just nod, more taken aback that he had willingly given up that information to you.

“Why?”

He shrugs, pulling your duvet off the bed and tucking it beneath his arm as he reaches for your pillows as well. “Must’ve been searching for something. He didn't find anything, at least not that I know.” You nod slowly, and pick up the two stuffed animals, turning them over in your hands. The soft fur warms your cold hands, making you forget about the sweat trickling down your neck as he heads towards your closet, peeking through the mess made. “Huh, you really don't have any clothes. Well, apart from the uniforms I moved over.”

“Told you.” You murmur, eyes still locked onto the stuffed animals before you finally tuck it beneath your arm, turning over to where he looks at the name engraved into one of your old uniforms. “Maybe he thought I got another gun.” It slips out and, for some stupid reason. you snort at the thought of that gift box on your dresser again, the note inside and the gun laying there so pristine. Some part of you does find it wildly amusing thinking about what Price’s reaction would be, especially after everything you now know. Maybe you could play bingo with whatever fake words he’d spew this time.

“Hmm, you’re not shaken up enough that you can't joke, so do you really need those?” He smirks, gesturing to the plushies in your hands.

“What? You’re the one who forced me to buy them.”

“No, that was Price. I was planning to knock you out every night; pretty good technique I'd say.”

You can’t believe his audacity, to openly say he’d punch you to sleep after he had been the cause of so much that had happened recently. It’s such a wild thing to say that you immediately laugh, a smile breaking out on your face. “Guess you’re speaking from experience then.”

“You’d never know, mask hides it all.” He plucks one of the stuffies out your hands, stealing it from you and squashing it beneath his arm with the duvet. “We better get back before you fall asleep standing up.” He strides out of the room before you can retort, making you jog slightly to keep up with his longer steps– almost like he’s trying to escape your wrath.

“I don't even need sleep– I’ve told you like a million times, and you don't believe me.” He looks straight at you and rolls his eyes before pulling the black balaclava off, closing his room door behind you. “I can withstand many hours awake!” He’s replaced his blankets with yours now, your softer pillows rather than his flattened ones.

“And you still drool all over the pillows.”

Your face scrunches up, unbelieving as he continues to get even more cocky with his words. Before you can muster up a response, you’re ushered into bed, beneath the covers with the two stuffed animals tucked right beside you. The mattress dips as he slides in, his face just barely visible in the dim light.

“If you don't sleep, I will lock you in this room for the whole day. Some poor soldiers will have to guard the windows too.”

You swallow, not wanting to be sitting still any longer than you want to be. The insistence to not sleep was nothing more than empty complaints, just to get on his nerves a tad, but you hadn't realised he’d go that far. That is, to threaten you into sleeping. It’s not exactly like you don't deserve the threat either— it’s for a good cause, that being your health.

The adrenaline of the dream has died down now, finally leaving your heart in its usual steady rhythm and the cold sweat disappearing. However, a little bit still lingers, the reason why you’re still awake now. Even as you hold one of the plushies close to your chest, hidden beneath the duvet, you can't help but be a little worried it’ll return. You’ve seen worse, known worse, but there’s something about him witnessing it first hand that gets you.

“Y’alright?” He asks, reaching over to fluff your pillow a little, but you snap out of and nod quickly, turning over to hide your face away. “Yeah.. Getting comfy, that’s all.”

His eyes still linger on your back that now faces him, your behaviour leaving a worrying feeling settling in his gut no matter how hard he tries to push it down. How had he not noticed the nightmares before? How many had you experienced right beside him?

“Cold? I can warm it up if you want.” He reaches over your arm to gently pinch at the stuffed animal, before leaving his hand to linger on your upper arm, making you turn back slightly to meet his eyes again.

“It’s okay, the covers are warm enough.” Your voice lowers to a whisper, the quiet worry in your gut controlling you.

“Alright. Let me know.” He waits for you to nod before finally turning over, his back now facing you.

For a while you settle into the haze between awake and asleep, listening for his breaths to slowly even out as a sign of sleep. Though, even with his mask off, it’s impossible to read him. Everything about him is so controlled, disciplined and contained, though just slightly ripping at the seams. You were the same, until you burst that is. March is still cold up north, and the window is a crack open. Goosebumps cover your arms, sending a chill down your back and crawling up to your face. Still, even as you toss and turn, the cold settles on your back like the nightmare did, persisting through all your desperate attempts. Your eyes droop, exhausted, and you know for sure that it’s too late to ask him now for that warmth– even pressing your nose into the plushie does no good for you.

As you blink again, you watch his shoulder twitch, then again, until he rolls over slightly in his sleep. He settles on his back, chest rising quietly before falling once more. But you’re not thinking about that, more so how warm he is from how his leg had accidentally bumped your knee. You soon fall into a deep sleep with your head on the corner of his pillow, your arm conveniently grazing his and your nose brushing dangerously close to his shoulder. What you didn't know was that your little eagle and wolf would end up discarded to the floor, no longer needed when something else kept you far more grounded.

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buy me a kofi!

previous next Series Masterlist

a/n:

lmk if you guys prefer longer chapters bcus this would've been over 7k words but i didnt want you guys to wait even LONGER. so the next one is prewritte, yes, and i will release it after editing which shouldnt take long. urm do i need to announce anything else... oh yeah i did well on my exams so the break did pay off, now to grind fanfics for the whole of summer :p

Taglist:

@mellohimmku94 @rafaelacallinybbay @fasoaurore @starfish-sandwich @arael-asuka @pinkpickle @toxicgutz69 @pythonmoth @harmonycricket @sneezypandu @ctrlofurheart @ssc7514 @terrifiedanimegirl @rayrayyio @silas-aeiou @uhhevie @enfppuff @sirbonesly @nobodycanknoww @bitchyzombienacho @justdamnpeachy @harley101399 @w1theredr0se @whoisnthere @lexi2005 @nisyi @el-salt @ttznlett @thebumbqueen @thriving-n-jiving @fluffysmiko @vioxsoo @alex1011sdzfgh @honestlymassivetrash @defronix @keepyoureyesonmeboy @thatpersonnamedrook @mortem-writes @2bdamnedmadnesscombat @princessiris147 @taylorrrig @tessakate @faeriepigeons @blackhawkfanatic @cryingpages

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #ghost x you #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you #taskforce 141 x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x you #ghost x y/n

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naomissecret · 2 days ago

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loser!matt and fuckgirl!reader have a little fun

after the little ‘mattitude’ problem you and matt had he’s been trying to be less harsh with you, not give in of course, he would never give in, I mean yeah he has kissed you and slowly he’s less nonchalant about you, but that doesn’t mean he would let you do what you wanna do to him, right? well turns out matt doesn’t really haves that much of will power as he thinks, it takes him a fucking lot to not stare at your body in a bold way, a lot to not give in to your tease and flirting.

Nick invited you over to custom some caps together, put some stones on it and some glitter too, but just like always chris sticked to you guys just for the because, then he got hungry, nick got hungry and eventually you did too, so chris offered nick to go for some food, you saw the opportunity to have some time alone with matt and took it.

as soon as nick and chris leaved you made your way to matt’s room, when you opened the door the first thing you found was matt with a blunt between fingers as he fixed his cam recorder, he looked up at you with a hidden smirk “what are you doing here? aren’t you supposed to be with nick?” he muttered and keep putting more attention to his camera as he laid down

“nick and chris went for food so I decided to come check up on you…” you sit by his side and place a hand on his chest making him look up at you again, his eyes half lidded, red and his pupils dilated, god he looked so goddamn good.

there was a intense silence between you and him as you both stared at each other, it was one of these moments where it’s usually broke by matt brushing you off, but it’s not always like this, sometimes he just can’t brought himself to do it, it’s there when he starts to wonder if he actually should already just give in and claim what his body and part of his mind needs, you.

“do you always have to be so touchy?” he mumbled trying to make it look like your touch was nothing to him, you thought for a second the push and pull was over and he won by brushing you off but it quickly changed when he stealed a glance to your neckline as he blinked and wet his lips. gotcha matt. “you say that but I’m sure you want to touch too…” you said with soft tone as you gently roamed your hand over his chest, on god he did wanted, matt was really enjoying the view, your shirt showing enough of you tits and make them sit nicely, the way you looked down at him, your shorts showing your legs, looking so smoothly, it was too much

he discreetly putted his camera away and rested his hand on your knee staring up at you hoping you would know what he wanted, and you catch it in less than a second, you chuckled and shifted to straddle his sides, matt couldn’t hold back anymore and bit his inner cheek as he smirked and placed his hand over your thigh, the view was definitely better this way, you on top of him, looking like you wanted to devour him right there, it was so heavenly or maybe was just the weed making him delusional.

with the blunt still on his fingers he brought it to your lips, you took a deep hit and blowed the smoke down at him, in other situation he would’ve told you that was annoying as fuck (even tho does that to you all the time) but right now? he weirdly found it hot as fuck, he slightly grinned at you before leaving the blunt in the ashtray to place both of his hands on your legs and flickering his gaze between you and your boobs.

“like the view matty?” you muttered placing your hands on his chest, he hold back a laugh at your teasing question “shit what do you want me to say, no?” he said like if it was the most obvious thing in the world, like if his stupid grin and the way he touched your legs didn’t make it obvious enough, you let out a little laugh “you know you can touch more… you seem like you need to” god, he couldn’t be more happy

matt didn’t needed to be told twice, he softly started to roam his hands over your hips, waist and ribcage until the finally stopped under your tits and didn’t hesiteded a second to cup them and gently squeeze them as he pressed his lips together, the fucking amount of times he has thought about this moment it’s uncountable, but that was a secret he keeps to himself, to make it a bit more fun you slightly rocked your hips on top of his crotch, you thought that was where he would put a stop but he didn’t, how could he? matt kept softly massaging your boobs, you took that as a sign to keep moving, both of you with a stupid grin plaster on your faces

“fuuck… keep going” he murmured letting out a small sigh, you indeed kept rocking your hips against his, he glanced at your lips for a moment, they looked so pretty, he remembered when he kissed you at the car and how it felt so undeniably good. fuck it. he already kissed the fuck out of you that time, he already did it once, why not do it again? Of course everything he was letting you do right now was against everything he’s beeen saying all of these months, it’s all the contrary to all he says to his friends, brothers and you, but the feeling of having you on top of him, moving like that, and looking like that was way too much

he lazily wrapped his hand around your neck to bring you down and press a kiss on your lips, matt moved his hand to your hips to help you keep moving, maybe it did was the drugs melting his brain, he keeps repeating himself that it’s the weed and not you, that one time it’s not giving in completely

matt let out a little laugh when he pulled you away slightly “you’re very giggly when you’re high” you mumbled and went back to your position as matt moved his hand from your neck and hips back to your tits “shut the fuck up and keep moving” he said with a smile, you laughed too and picked more speed “mmhm… yeah just like that… shiit… you look very good like that” he murmured looking almost mesmerized, he could only imagine how would you look without those shorts and that shirt, no bra, no panties and-

his thoughts got cut off by the sound of the front door getting unlocked, you quickly stopped rocking your hips, Matt’s hands still on your tits as you both looked at each other panicking

“fuck… go! g-go to the bathroom, now” he said quickly grabbing your waist and pulling you down, you tried to hide a laugh as he leaded you to the door “my fucking god, stop laughing, it’s not funny!” he whispered panicked as he reached the door while you couldn’t stop giggling at how his face passed from flushed to pale

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just that-“ you tried to explain until your gaze fell into his crotch and noticing the bulge in his sweatpants, his eyes followed yours and he quickly put his hand over it, you couldn’t hold the laugh anymore and bursted into laughs as he pushed you out of the room hearing nick and chris walking up the stairs, he closed the door almost smacking it as you walked to through the hallway and finding nick and chris

“we brought burgers cause the sushi shit was way to far” chris said happily and placing the bags on the table, chris noticed your giggled expression “what’s so funny? were you with matt?” he asked “no, I was just watching a TikTok, that’s it” you said trying to stop laughing “is matt still locked up in his room? damn, he’s like a pre teenager that never comes out of his room” nick joked and sat down to eat, you decided to not bother matt, poor matt already had enough with the problem between his legs to deal with more of your teasing, but you knew he wasn’t mad at you, he probably was mad at nick and chris for coming early and ruining the moment but he was sorta glad cause god who knows what would’ve happen if they would take more.

♱note: hi babes, i know I haven’t post and I’m sos so sorry, I’ve been busy, love ya n i know this might be kinda ass I just need to post lmfao 😁

(English is not my first language)

🏷️: @izzylovesmatt @fadedstvrn @sturnvdds @sorrybirds @viviansturns @whore4chris @matthewbernardswife @adorematt

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturiolo fanfic #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo #chrisstur

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writingicing · 2 days ago

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What a wonderful season finale!

Just finished The Apothecary Diaries Season 2 and... I think my love for this anime has grown even more. The end of season 1 had one of the most beautiful and impactful scenes ever: Maomao dancing for her parents' wedding, as a courtesan will when another courtesan is bought out. It was so happy and melancholic at the same time, and her dance to their love song (which she has her own sad version of btw) captured her complexity perfectly.

In season 2, the entirety of the final ep was just... wow. This season felt a lot of more serious and focused, especially with how the plot moved. There were, of course, many amazing moments and characters as well and I am sad that we might not see Maomao working in the rear palace anymore. (The episodic nature of solving problems through her genius brain was sooo fun for me!) But the way everyone's arc was tied up at the end was SO GOOD.

Looking at this from a writing perspective again, I can't help but wonder at how beautifully this anime is paced and how they bring set up things carefully to lead to something else. I felt this especially about how Maomao's feelings for Jinshi was set up this season.

For her, there is no ONE moment where she realizes her feelings, right? She is the kind of person who goes as far as to control her thoughts to avoid feelings, not even thinking things through in the privacy of her own mind. This is very important to me because one thing I learnt about screenwriting is that one of the best ways to let the audience into a character's mind/pov is for the character to have a private moment with themselves. This can mean anything - they can talk to themselves or think to themselves, admit the truth or lie, or sometimes just a silent moment and an important action is enough. It's a feat that we follow Maomao's character throughout the show without fully seeing her admit truth to herself. We see her lie to herself a lot or simply avoid thinking some thoughts, and as an audience, it is interesting to be left in the dark a bit, to wait and see how her thoughts and her actions correlate.

That's the journey with Maomao - we experience what she does because she is a unique and interesting protagonist, but at the same time we are sometimes left behind, anticipating what she does. I think this is exactly what makes us properly understand her. Human beings aren't so simple - oftentimes, we barely understand ourselves, let alone the people closest to us, which is because we are multifaceted beings. Maomao is that - a three-dimensional being with multitudes within her. She feels all sorts of feelings imaginable and just by living her life, she FINDS out more things she can feel. Rather than being written as a character who is fully transparent, we are experiencing the struggles of a human life, of figuring out ourselves in a new way with every step we take, of going against prior beliefs about the world and about our own character/capabilites. Isn't that so fascinating?

There is no one moment where she falls in love with Jinshi because she doesn't know it either. She consistently tries to avoid thinking about his true identity (which she has already figured out) because she knows admitting that truth will change things for her. But she cannot help but care about him and find him the most relatable and most real when he acts purely as himself. She cannot hide the discomfort she feels around him sometimes, but neither can she run away from the fondness.

All this leads us to the final episode, when they reunite and act as if they are an old married couple, reuniting after living entire lives together. There might not have been a singular moment when she fell in love but that doesn't matter because she's been falling and resisting and falling deeper every single moment. At some point, the moment of realization becomes irrelevant when the person you truly love is standing in front of you. And so the feelings rush in and settle down quick, putting both Maomao and the audience into peaceful acceptance.

As long as there was fear of consequences, feelings are hard to accept. But when the feeling grows beyond that fear, that fear becomes irrelevant and the feelings become the one and only truth. And Maomao might filter her thoughts to prevent thinking things that will make her face consequences, but she never runs away from the truth. And we have seen this with her attitude towards her parents, her job, her society, her friendships, etc. Once again, Maomao proves that she isn't unfeeling but rather cautious.

For us as the audience, we grow with her because she is written not only to surprise us but to surprise herself. And I think that's the most wonderful thing ever. Would she have even thought that she would look at Jinshi like that when he comes closer to kiss her? Probably not. But that's the beauty of it!

I literally can't wait for the next season. I'm so glad I found this anime 🥰

#the apothecary diaries #jinmao #kusuriya no hitorigoto #maomao #jinshi #please this anime is so good im obsessed #the apothecary diaries season finale #the apothecary diaries season 2 #knh anime #writing characters #writerscommunity #creative writing #so much to learn

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nyan-bynary · 9 months ago

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I'm gonna have to wait out a few weeks to be able to complain about jjk's ending bc rn half the ppl are bashing everyone who expected more as ppl who just wanted gojo back

#jjk 271 #like no I can read I understood that gojo was gone for good from 236 bUT we can still talk about #how a grown ass man and his grown ass friends deciding how they were at 16 was their perfect forms.#before they made all the important life changing decisions. is a regression right #like can we talk about how the narrative just glosses over geto's whole entire life after hs WHERE HE WAS A GENOCIDAL MANIAC #and pretends like no one would even side eye him about that???#that's fucking regression #you're scaling his character back bc you don't want to address the root reasonwhy he went that route #and it's perfectly fine when an author doesn't want to get too political in their work it's their right I get it #but it does make me upset where the whole entire story up until here the author has been beating us over the head with leftist messaging-#- only to throw it away and settle for a 'oh I didn't mean ACTUAL revolution or changes that would rock the boat for REAL'#bc let's face it. the conditions that made people like geto and sukuna happen are still fucking there they just skipped this generation #these kids are still going to be sent out when a special grade curse shows up and some of them are still gonna die tragically early #to put yuuji as the leader of gojo's dream is isolating and a burden on JUST YUUJI (WHY WERE THE OTHER STUDENTS NOT THERE)#to make yuuji the sole messenger of gojo's will is frankly WEIRD gojo wanted these kids to look out for one another #he had nothing to say to anyone else???#yuuji's been accidentally burdened with the weight of gojo's dream now ON HIS OWN #HE IS A KID #literally nothing's changed at the end #also see how I didn't talk about gojo on his own here bc the problems are so glaring that they shine through even side characters #WHY IS NANAMI A KID IN THE AIRPORT IS THAT THE VERSION OF HIMSELF HE WAS CONTENT WITH???#or did they all have to be aged down to match haibara even though making the choice to show the ones that lived as grown would've made it-#-more impactful #A twenty seven yr old nanami sitting next to the fifteen yr old haibara would've been soul crushing right?#also why have nanami be the only one that talks like he remembers his adulthood BUT NOT GETO #WHY TAKE AWAY SUCH A HUGE PART OF GETO #YOU COULD'VE HAD THAT BE A CONVERSATION AND HAVE PEOPLE FORGIVE HIM #the more I think about the ending the more things I find to nitpick further back too #gege I love you but please I hope you negotiate a more flexible time in your next contract I hope they don't burn you out again #bc jjk is going to be an ending which I will frankly ignore and just go with 'sukuna won and it was terrible' in my head instead

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defilerwyrm · 1 year ago

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There’s this guy in town who owns this little house, and a while back he rescued a street dog that was going to get put down. Turned out she was pregnant.

Problem is, he has mental health & drug issues and couldn’t afford to get them all spayed & neutered, so now there are 6 grown bitches with 15 puppies total, and they’ve dug under his fence in multiple places but he can’t afford to fix it so they go roaming all around town. (When I say can’t afford it, I mean his house is currently running on a generator because he can’t afford his electric bill.) He’s also a day laborer so he cannot take multiple full days off work to take them to the vet an hour away. He’s in a really rough spot.

He’s not a bad person. He’s just overwhelmed.

And this little conservative town with 6 churches for 300 people, have they tried to help their neighbor? Have they adopted the puppies he’s been trying to give away? Have they offered resources?

NOPE! All they wanna do is talk shit about him and complain about the dogs but never lift a finger of their own. And they come to his house to yell at him and cuss him out about the dogs, which does not exactly engender in him a cooperative attitude, as you might imagine.

So after a while of this going on, my mom gets fed up with all the NIMBY bullshit and starts talking to the guy, because she’s done animal rescue for 20-odd years and has Connections. He’s resistant at first, but when he realizes she’s not being an asshole to him on account of his addiction or the dogs, he decides to let her help.

She gets to work organizing and networking. Finds a non-profit that will cover vaccinations, spay/neuter, and flea treatments for all the dogs. Talks the next-door neighbor into paying for materials to fix the fence, since this guy can do the work of it himself. Gets him in touch with another non-profit that will adopt out the adult dogs.

Less than 2 weeks after she decided to do something, all puppies have been to the vet, 10 puppies and 4 adult dogs have been adopted out, and the second non-profit is coming by next week to pick up the remaining 7 dogs to ship them out for adoption.

I’ve learned a lot of things from my mom—some good, some bad—but I think the most important positive message she lives as an example of is this: sometimes, when something needs done and no one else is willing, you gotta stand up and say “I’ll do it.”

#dogs #animal rescue #liveblogging the texas hill country #pets #d’ye like dagss #true story #blog together queue alone

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adore-gregor · 1 year ago

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my perception of grades totally changed since i started uni

#in school i just did the bare minimum a pass was fine and a 3 great #it's insane to think about it how little i did like for a lot of subjects not at all and if i did i'd study like 2 hrs the day before 😭#and i thought this was studying hard or if i studied 3 hrs at least whaaat #well for some subjects i did a bit more #but like it is no comparrison #at uni i also did study the day before a few times but then i did an 8hr session #(i might just need to do that tmrw but the thing is the exam is one you can't study for so literary idk what i'd study so long for??)#(or how to study... it's translation but how tf do you study translation it's highly subjective and there are no practice exercises)#(i will probably just look at the notes)#but anyway for my last exam i spent 5 hrs in the library a day and i already started 2 weeks before (altough just in smaller bits)#but bumped it up exam week i did like 2-3hrs on average a day #even if i start too late like i did for one of the hardest test of my studies i only studied for 2 days but like all day or 10hrs sth a day #it by far exceeds the 2hrs lmao and even that was very little for this exam many studied 2 weeks but like i got a good grade so it's okay #but my point is now that i get better grades good one's a C is a massive disappointment for me 😅#unless it was a really difficult one then i'd take it but like it upsets me #a teacher once told me when i got a c on an exam quite a few failed that many would be happy to have that grade well true tbh but i can't #and once i almost cried because i got a C because i thought it was an easy course but it was an oral exam and i'm worse in these #(because in written i often remember the answer later in the exam and then go back but in oral i can't do that)#well that was embarrassing😭 i'm trying to never do that again so if i get asked how i feel abt it say it's okay ig #but sometimes even a B is meh 😅 especially if an A was possible and it was an easy course/exam #i want more A's less B's tbh B's also because i really want to go abroad and raise my grade average for that #i want to go from a B average to an A something average to improve my chances #but yeah younger me wouldn't believe this 😂#i really want to study harder to make that step up to more A's than B's like uni does come quite easy to me #and while i study way more compared to others i still get away with less effort and good results but i could have excellent grades #on the one hand it's good that i improved so much on the other those expectations might not be because i'm almost never satisfied anymore 😅#and i know it's kind of really unimportant because there are real problems and also many uni students struggle to pass their classes #it's maybe even a bit disrespectful because they'd be happy to have these grades and i should be more grateful #but i swear i don't look down on anyone with worse grades i know how difficult it can be and also how outside factors play a role #some have it more difficult some have to work a lot next to uni or really suffer from mental illness besides no one's brain is the same

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demonpiratehuntress · 8 months ago

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they make you cry

featuring - Zoro x F!Reader, Ace x F!Reader, Kaku x F!Reader, Law x F!Reader, Luffy x F!Reader, Sanji x F!Reader, Usopp x F!Reader

summary - sometimes you just can't handle the things they say/do

warnings - angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

taglist - @kabloswrld

a/n - this took forever to write, and I'm sorry! had to fight my writer's block real hard to get this out ☠️ some of them seem rushed and im sorry about that too!

ZORO

Zoro could be mean, you knew this when you started dating him. He didn't mince his words, nor did he sugarcoat anything. Especially when he was angry, that's when he could be the cruelest. You just never expected to be on the receiving end of that cruelty.

You were just trying to help, honestly. You thought it might be a nice gesture if you wiped his swords clean for him while he napped, and you thought he'd appreciate it. But the moment you dropped them while putting them back and woke him up, it was like something had possessed him.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded, sitting up and looking at you, his eyes hard.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to clean them for you," you tried explaining yourself, hoping he wouldn't be too angry. Hoping he would calm down and stop looking at you like that.

"Why would you think that?" He scoffed. "I clean them myself, there's no need for you to do it. There's no need for you touch them at all, actually."

"I'm sorry," you apologised again, shrinking away and feeling hurt by his tone already.

"Just don't do it again," he snapped, "You don't know anything about swords. It wouldn't be such a problem if you were more like me and less like you."

"Less like me?" The tears filled your eyes before you could stop them. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, just go away and let me nap."

And go away you did. You left his room with your eyes almost overflowing, hand covering your mouth to stifle the sob that was about to come out. You didn't understand what brought that on, why he had been so mean to you.

"(Name), wait-"

You ran off the moment his door opened again, trying to put as much distance between him and yourself as possible. You were hurt, so incredibly hurt, that you barely made it to your room before you broke down in tears, burying your face in your hands. You tried to calm down, you did, but his unprovoked verbal attack struck you right where it hurt the most, your heart. You didn't understand what he meant by "less like you", and you didn't think you wanted to. It was insult enough already.

A knock on your door startled you, and you quickly wiped your face to try and get rid of the tears but your eyes were still red and puffy. Which was immediately noticed by the swordsman when you opened the door, and he frowned.

"Were you crying?"

"What do you want?" You asked him, sniffing. "Did you come to insult me more? Maybe tell me again to stay away from your precious swords? Save it."

"I'm sorry," he interjected, taking you by surprise. He shifted nervously, not really knowing how to apologise but wanting to try because you meant more to him than he could ever say and he hated that he'd hurt you.

"Is that it?" You scoffed, about to close the door.

"No, no wait!" He stopped you, swallowing thickly and looking at the floor. "You know I'm not good with apologies. But I mean it when I say I'm sorry for what I said. You were just trying to do something nice for me and I snapped at you because I was in a mood. The stupid cook annoyed me earlier and I...didn't mean to take it out on you."

You crossed your arms, trying to look mad but you only looked sad and it tugged at Zoro's heartstrings, "Okay."

His expression softened, and when you allowed him he pulled you into his arms and hugged you, trying to show how sorry he was through his actions since he couldn't say it. He rubbed your back soothingly, pressing a gentle and apologetic kiss to the top of your head.

"But if you speak to me like that again, I'm throwing your swords into the ocean."

He chuckled, "Deal."

He spent the next few days making it up to you in various ways, either buying you a special gift from any island you stopped by, or hugging/cuddling you a little longer than usual, or teaching you some moves with his swords to prove he trusted you with them. Eventually, when his overbearing affection started worrying the crew, you had to forgive him.

ACE

The crew was celebrating a big win. Stopping by a nearby island, majority of the crewmembers could be found in bars and taverns, drinking their weight in alcohol. You were amongst them, not drinking as much but joining the merriment regardless. You smiled at the antics of your crewmates, who were trying to drunkenly flirt with woman around the room.

Your smile vanished the moment your eyes settled on your boyfriend, who was busy entertaining a crowd of younger women with the tale of your victory.

Now normally that isn't a cause for upset with you, but he tended to get a little overfriendly and even though you've spoken to him about it many, many times, he hasn't made an effort to stop his flirting - even if he didn't see it as flirting, those women certainly did. And that was the problem, he always let them think that and allowed them to get handsy with him.

You rolled your eyes, downing your drink so you could get out of here. When you lowered your pint again, the sight of one of their hands on his arm made you sick. Usually you would get angry and storm over there and break up the party, but today the sight brought tears to your eyes. It hurt you that he always did this, even when you'd asked him not to.

"(Name), where you going?" One of your crewmates asked you when they noticed you getting up. "It's still early!"

You forced a smile, trying to hide your glassy eyes, "I, uh-"

"(Name)!" Ace called you cheerfully, waving you over, "Come here!"

You frowned, then shook your head before turning and leaving the bar, letting the tears fall now that you were out of sight from the rest of the crew. Your vision blurred on the way back to the ship, but you somehow managed to get there without hurting yourself and broke down into quiet sobs as you sat on your bed and buried your face in your hands.

Sometimes it felt like you weren't enough for him, whether it was physically or emotionally. He could make you feel like the worst lover sometimes, like you couldn't give him what he wanted, even if he didn't mean to. You knew he had commitment issues, but you thought your relationship was getting more serious at this point.

"(Name)!" Ace burst into the room, looking worried. "Hey, why did you leave?"

You didn't answer, turning away from him and curling up into a foetal position facing the wall your bed was placed against. You couldn't look at him right now, not when the tears wouldn't stop.

"Baby?" He called again, the bed dipping beside you to indicate that he had sat down. "I know you're not asleep."

He reached out and gently touched your shoulder, urging you to turn around and face him. You sighed and shifted around, looking at him with a tear-stained face. His eyes instantly went wide and he flew into a panic.

"What happened? Did someone do something to you?"

"Ugh, stop it," you groaned, sitting up. "Don't pretend to care about me when you constantly do what I tell you hurts my feelings." Just mentioning it again brought the tears back, and you cursed.

He frowned when you said this, "But I wasn't flirting with them."

You gave him an exasperated look, "Do you ever realise that they consider it flirting? That they try to seduce you with all their little touches and stupid flirty smiles? No, you don't." You hastily wiped your eyes, now getting angry.

"I'm sorry-"

"No, Ace. You do this all the time. And it really, really hurts."

His expression softened, and he grabbed you and pulled you onto his lap with ease. No matter how mad you were at him, your body never fought his touch or embrace.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into your hair. "I didn't realise they were trying to do that. I was so caught up in telling the story, especially the part where you took out all of those pirates, that I didn't see they weren't really interested. I'm sorry I'm so stupid."

The sincerity in his voice eased your mood, and you slowly stopped crying and pulled away to look at him, "Next time just ask me to come sit with you."

"I'll do better than that baby, I'll put you on my lap."

"You know that doesn't end well."

"On the contrary-"

You sighed and shook your head, unable to help the smile that formed on your lips. He really was an idiot, but he was your idiot and even if he did stupid things a lot of the time, you loved him very much.

KAKU

You and Kaku hardly ever fought, because he was a very patient and very reasonable man. He never gave you any reason to be upset with him, because while he was a ruthless assassin, to you he was an absolute sweetheart. The only problem was that he sometimes left for long missions, and you were left worrying about him at home and not knowing what was going on because he was deep undercover that he couldn't even contact you.

Like now, where he was working undercover as a foreman in Water 7. You had asked him once again if you could come with, seeing as neither of you knew how long he'd be away this time. But he refused, gently reminding you that he didn't want to put you in any danger and that your house - so far off the grid absolutely no one knew about it - was the safest place for you. You had no other option but to agree.

After many, many months spent worrying about him and struggling to sleep not knowing what's going on, your boyfriend stumbled in through the front door one night absolutely destroyed. You'd come down with one of his swords in hand - one that he kept around the house for you - only to stop dead at the sight of Kaku standing there. Actually, standing was generous. He was barely keeping himself off the ground, tall frame hunched over and trembling.

"Oh my god, Kaku!" You dropped the blade and rushed to his side, laying one of his arms around your shoulders so you could at least help him to the couch. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story," he groaned, laying his head over the back of the couch and closing his eyes. "Short version - the Straw Hats."

You frowned at his brief response, going to fetch your first aid kit - you'd learned after the first few times he came home that you'd need one - and bringing it back to him.

"I think I deserve an explanation," you pressed, sitting beside him and starting to tend to his more obvious wounds. "You owe me that much."

"I don't want to talk about it," he grumbled. "I'm sorry."

You didn't respond, and he cracked an eye open to see why. When he noticed how your eyes had become glassy and your bottom lip was trembling but you were biting it hard to stop it, his expression softened.

"Oh, honey."

He gently took the first aid from you and set it aside before bringing you into his arms, wrapping them around you securely. He pressed gentle kisses to the top of your head, ignoring the pain as he held you against his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"This is the worst I've ever seen you," you managed to get out, your voice small and hurt. "I had no contact with you for the longest time since you started working for them, and then you come back looking like this..." You couldn't help it, the tears just kept falling no matter how hard you tried to stop them.

He held you tighter, then moved one hand up to wipe your tears away, "But I came back, didn't I? I'm here."

You knew he was trying to reassure you, but it was difficult to be reassured when he constantly did this to you. You looked at him sceptically.

"Why would I ever risk dying?" He questioned softly, cupping your cheek in his large hand. "I have you to come home to, I don't put myself in a situation I don't think I can come out of." He kissed the tip of your nose, to make you smile like it always did. "Besides, did you ever think that maybe I like having you play nurse for me?"

You managed a small smile, warmed by his words, "Oh you do, huh?"

"Mhm."

"I guess I can forgive you. On one condition."

"Anything, honey."

"I'm coming with you on your next assignment."

"...I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Nope."

He sighed, but planted a loving kiss on your forehead, "If it will ease your mind, then okay. But you have to let me make sure your cover is safe too."

"Deal."

LAW

Law was a very complicated man, with a lot of baggage and trauma he liked to keep away from everyone else. He was reclusive, and he never quite expressed his emotions as healthily as he should. Most days you did your best to understand, to step back and be the more rational one. But sometimes his actions don't make sense, and he ends up hurting you a lot more than he thinks - or notices.

Take the last few days, for example. You two had grown quite close over the course of your relationship and he was now quite comfortable with you and showing you affection - although still privately. But ever since you'd met the Straw Hat crew and he'd been introduced to their smartest member, Robin, he'd been a lot more distant and a lot less affectionate. Like he was beginning to forget you existed.

You started to feel insecure about not being as intelligent as her and not having anything in common with your boyfriend. You'd never liked books, they paled in comparison to the adventures you embarked on on a daily basis. But now it had come back to haunt you, and in the worst way possible.

"Law, do you want to-"

"Not now, (Name)-ya," he didn't even look up from his work. "I'm just finishing some notes on something that Robin asked for."

"Oh, okay. Let me know when you're-"

"I will be heading to their ship shortly, she has a collection of books I would like to study."

"...Right. Okay."

You blinked back tears, knowing he would just get irritated with your emotional display. Turning away from him, you left the room to go get some air and maybe feel sorry for yourself. It did hurt, him immediately dismissing you for another woman, even if it wasn't romantic. He was spending less time with you, and more time with her.

"(Name)!"

Your face lit up, thinking Law had finally come to his senses. But when you turned around, you saw him making his way to the Thousand Sunny while Bepo was the one who had called out to you. And then you couldn't hold it back anymore; you burst into tears.

You usually didn't cry like this. You were good at keeping your emotions in check. It was a side-effect of being around the stoic captain so much - you'd learned how to control your own emotions. But right now, it was too much to bear and your insecurities and fears came crashing down around you, drowning you in sorrow.

"What's wrong??" Bepo asked worriedly, immediately pulling you into a hug. "Did something happen?"

"No," you hiccupped, "I mean, yes, but it doesn't matter."

Your eyes drifted to the deck of the Sunny, where Law was engaged in what looked like a meaningful conversation with the female devil fruit user. Sighing, you tried your best to wipe your eyes and gently pushed Bepo away.

"I'm okay, I just...I need to be alone."

As you walked off, Bepo followed your gaze and spotted the issue. He frowned, having also noticed that his captain had recently been preferring Robin's company over his own girlfriend.

"Captain!" The bear called, rushing over to Law and Robin.

"Not now, Bepo," Law dismissed him, returning his attention to the raven-haired woman.

"But something is wrong with (Name)!" Bepo protested, whoch was a half-lie, half-truth. There was something wrong, but it wasn't with you. He just knew Law wouldn't follow him back otherwise.

"What?" Law instantly felt worry start to fill him. "Where is she?"

"I don't know, I saw her just now, crying, and then she ran off."

Law frowned. He didn't like it when you cried. Not because it was irritating, but because he always got this weird, ugly feeling when you did. You should never have to cry, you should never have to feel pain. Instantly, he goes back to the Polar Tang but not to look for you. He just simply uses his devil fruit to get you back into his room, and when he does he feels guilty by the sight.

Your eyes are red and puffy and you're sniffing like you're sick, but you're not sick. You're avoiding his gaze and casting your eyes downward to the floor, unable to look at him. And you're hugging yourself.

"(Name)-ya," he calls, hoping to get you to look at him.

"I thought you were with Robin," you tell him quietly, the hurt evident in your small, vulnerable voice.

He frowns, "I was, but-"

"Then we don't need to talk about anything," you cut him off. "I'm fine, go bacl to your conversation." You can't help being a bit snippy, tired of crying and even more so of being sad.

"You have been crying," he argued, "That is my concern."

"Oh really?" You suddenly glared at him. "I didn't think you'd notice. But you didn't, did you? Bepo had to tell you, because you were so engrossed in your new girlfriend!" You scoffed, rubbing your face and getting up. "Leave me alone."

"No," Law blocked your path out of the room. "I want to talk about this. And...I want to apologise for hurting you." He paused awkwardly, never good with apologies. "I didn't mean to spend so much time with her and neglect you, I promise. I just kept losing track of time, and I got a little bit eager that someone else was interested in some of the same things I am."

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled, "I'm sorry I'm not that person. I'm sorry I'm not your ideal girlfriend." The tears started falling again, and the ache returned to Law's chest.

"That's not what I meant," he moved closer, "You are perfect just the way you are. I don't want you to be like me, I don't think I could date someone like me. I often wonder how you do it."

Your eyes widen at the vulnerable revelation, and that leads you to start listening to his sincere words and slowly calm down.

"If I neglect you like that again, please just tell me," he pleaded, taking your hands in his. "Don't suffer in silence, I don't like seeing how it's affected you. And I don't like being the reason you cry. So please, just talk to me when I hurt you. Pull me away from any conversation, throw my books, whatever. Just make sure I listen."

"Okay," you slowly smiled, nodding. "But you can't yell at me if I do."

He sighed, but felt relieved that he was forgiven, "I won't."

"Great. Now you owe me a lot of cuddles and even more kisses," you pout. "And double the amount of hugs."

"Done, done and done," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss you sweetly and gently.

LUFFY

If Luffy hasn't upset you in some way, you'd be suspicious. His carefree nature was bound to anger or frustrate you in some way or the other, and his tendency to overexert himself in fights often ended with you concerned for his health in general. He's never made you cry, because if there's one thing Luffy can do well it's keep his promises.

Until he meets Boa Hancock.

And you get it. She's gorgeous, she's powerful, she's a queen. She's everything a woman should be, and you can't help but feel envious of the attention she gets from men. Luffy doesn't really care for her looks, which is a little comforting, however she found the way to his heart and every time you guys met her on the ocean she had the nerve to throw him a huge feast. And your beloved, naive boyfriend always thought she was just being nice and gorged himself on her food, missing the way she looked at him longingly and not understanding her flirtatious advances.

But you understood them very well.

But as mentioned before, she's a powerful person. Not just because she's a devil fruit user, but also because she's a Warlord. You knew you couldn't piss her off in any way, for the safety of the crew, but she had no such qualms. It seemed she knew that you hated how much she attended to Luffy, she knew how much you hated her advances and how Luffy always ate whatever she offered. And she abused her title, doing it on purpose because she knew there was nothing you could do.

Most of the time it was just frustrating beyond comparison. But slowly it ate away at you, and one particular meeting had you excusing yourself in an attempt to escape what seemed like a suffocating situation.

Boa was once again on your ship - it seemed like she purposely sought it out just to see your boyfriend, and she probably did. Luffy was enjoying yet another one of her feasts, and she was sat right beside him. Touching his arm and saying sweet things to him like he didn't already have a girlfriend. Batting her eyelashes at him and offering him sweet smiles that would knock the socks off any man other than Luffy. Once again, he didn't seem to notice how uncomfortable it made you, and you felt your eyes brim with tears.

Maybe he did notice and just didn't mind. Maybe he did notice and actually enjoyed her attention like everyone else did. Maybe you had him all wrong in this particular situation. He had spent a long time with her on her island, after all.

"Excuse me," you mumble to no one in particular, rising from your seat and swiftly exiting the room. It was like you couldn't breathe, your throat burning as the tears started falling faster and faster, until you could barely see.

You were sure he hasn't even noticed you were gone. He probably hadn't even seen you leave. And that thought had you clinging to your pillow harder as you screamed into it, hot angry tears rolling down your cheeks in unstoppable waves. You were so hurt and upset that you didn't notice your room door swing open and a certain captain barge in.

"(Name)?" Luffy called, sounding confused. "Are you okay?"

You felt your body bounce a little as the overeager captain jumped onto your bed, but in your stubbornness you refused to look at him and turned away instead.

"Go away, Luffy."

Luffy was not used to hearing those words from you. Nor was he used to hearing the sadness in your voice, the way it cracked halfway, and the miserable sniff that came afterwards. He was not used to seeing you like this, so sad.

"What's wrong?" He tugged on your shoulder, trying to get you to turn back around to face him. "Are you sick? Is your stomach sore?"

"No, Luffy!" You sat up and yelled in exasperation. "I'm tired! I'm so, so tired okay!" You rubbed your face and curled up, thighs pressed tightly to your chest. "I'm tired of my boyfriend letting some other woman fawn over him with no boundaries. I'm tired of watching my boyfriend be sweet-talked and flirted with by some other woman. And I can't do anything, because she's a Warlord!"

Luffy's eyes went wide, and then he burst out laughing, "Are you worried about Hammock?" The incorrect name almost had you smiling, but you managed to keep your face stoic. "(Name), I only want you. You know that right?"

"Yes," you sighed, "And I trust you, Luffy. It's just...you never stop her and sometimes it makes me feel like I'm not enough. Like she does more for you than I ever could." Your gaze fell. "Sometimes I think you actually like her."

Suddenly his arms were around you and he was squeezing you in the tightest hug he'd ever given.

"I don't like anyone the way I like you, (Name)," he promised. "ANd I never will. You are the only person who makes me feel like this, and you do enough for me already. You cook for me! I bet Hammock doesn't even make the food herself. If it came to choosing you or her, it would always be you."

Your cheeks burned when he said that, and slowly a smile formed on your lips, "That's really sweet, Luffy. Thank you. I needed to hear that."

He nuzzled his face against yours affectionately, "I will remind you as many times as you want!"

SANJI

Sanji's most annoying habit tended to irritate you majority of the time, and every instance ended with you practically fuming and storming off after telling him off angrily. He would normally appease you with something sweet, or your favourite dish. In some extreme cases, both. But you never stayed mad at him, because he made it impossible for you to do so. You just never expected that one day the hurt would become too much for you to handle, and you'd react with sadness rather than fury.

The crew had been given the day off to explore another island. Everyone had split to do their own things, but the cook insisted on accompanying you because it was one of the rare times he got to spend alone with you for an entire day. So the two of you strolled through the vibrant town, enjoying the atmosphere and each other's presence.

That is, until Sanji forgot about your warning to not flirt with anyone on this island. He deemed it just being a gentleman, but you knew better than that.

When you caught him staring as your words faltered, you expected the usual bout of anger to flare within you. You were ready to tell him off again, a dozen insults coming to mind for that woman, when you felt a sharp pang in your chest instead. Your words caught in your throat, and a sorrow like nothing you'd ever experienced filled you.

Had he been staring the entire time you were talking to him? To make matters worse, he seemed to forget you were speaking and drifted over to the lady to compliment her dress.

You felt humiliated. No one here actually knew you two, but it was embarrassing that you couldn't even keep your lover's attention on you. Your cheeks burned, your throat along with them, and your eyes brimmed with tears. It was made worse when you glanced around at all the other couples, and found them happily clinging to each other and acting like they were the only two people in the world.

"What do you think, ma chérié?" Sanji's voice suddenly filled your ears. "Do you like it?"

You hastily wiped your eyes, trying to look like you did before, "Um, like what? Sorry, I wasn't listening..."

He didn't seem to notice the sadness in your tone or the forlorn expression on your face, he just barrelled on, "This pretty young woman's dress, what do you think of it?"

"A-are you serious?" You choked out, feeling the burning in your throat get worse.

"Yes! Doesn't it look nice?"

You couldn't take it anymore. You were hyperventilating at this point. Scared of being embarrassed further with your impending sobbing, you turned and sprinted as fast as you could away from the scene. He called after you, but you weren't listening.

He arrived at the ship at the same time you did, leaving you confused. You were about to push past him when he grabbed your waist, stopping you.

"Wait, my love, I'm sorry," he apologised, "Don't cry, please."

You smacked his hand away from your face, "No, don't. If you were really sorry, you'd stop flirting with every woman you see like I told you to! But no, you keep doing it." Your eyes watered again. "Do you have any idea what it's like? Seeing your own lover interested in someone else, not even listening to you?"

Sanji was speechless. He had no idea it affectef you this much, but he blamed himself for going on with it even when you told him not to.

"How would you feel if I flirted with every guy I saw?" You demanded.

"Oh no, please don't," he begged, heart sinking at the thought.

"But it's okay for you to do it?" You looked away, and his heart broke.

"I'm sorry," he apologised again, "I am, really. But I wasn't flirting with her, I promise! I was just asking where she got that dress because it looked so nice and I thought it would look good on you..."

Your eyes widened when you heard this, "Wait, what? Is that why you asked if I liked it?"

"Mhm," he smiled, "I wanted to get it for you if you did."

You were the speechless one now. All that time he had been thinking of you, and you'd gone and assumed the worst. Now you felt even more embarrassed, but for a totally different reason.

"Sanji, I-"

"No need to apologise, love," he immediately hugged you when it seemed like it was okay for him to. "I haven't exactly given you reasons to trust me not to flirt. But I promise, I am doing my best to not do it. I don't want to lose you."

He really was too cute to stay mad at, or even to stay sad about, and you ended up smiling and leaning in to kiss him.

"Fine, but do it again and I'm going to leave you for Zoro."

His face paled, "No no, ma chérie, you can't be serious! Love, wait! Are you serious??" And he followed you to your room, begging you to tell him you were lying.

USOPP

You were well aware that Usopp had had a romantic interest in a girl long before he met you. He would never tell you about her, but Nami and Luffy told you about her and what they knew about her relationship with Usopp. As far as you could tell, they had never done anything more than kiss once.

You felt like you were getting in the way of their relationship, and most days that thought just put you into an emotionless daze. You felt like you couldn't compare, because she seemed to be his first love. And as bad as this sounds, you started to feel like you were a relationship of convenience to him. Someone to keep him company while he longed for another.

"You know that's not true," Nami would reassure you when you confided in her. "He's not like that. He really loves you."

"I can tell he thinks about her sometimes," you argue, "And we don't know whether or not he imagines her in my place when we kiss or do anything remotely romantic. Who's to say he wouldn't go back to her if we somehow made it back to the East Blue?"

Nami couldn't give you the answer to that, and it hurt all the more. You tried not to let it get to you, you really did, but some days were worse than others. Some days you felt inferior, like you were not as pretty as she was, even though you'd never seen her. If he was so crazy about her to still be thinking about her months after he'd met you, he surely still loved her, right?

"Usopp, I have a question," Nami asked the sharpshooter one day.

"Uhhhh, no I did not borrow any money from you..." He replied nervously, eyes darting around the room.

The navigator's eyes narrowed, "We'll get to that later. Anyway, if we went back to the East Blue, what would you do? Would you want to rekindle your relationship with Kaya?"

Usopp's face paled, "What kind of question is that?!"

"Just answer!"

"I...I don't know!" He cried, then attempted to flee only to see you standing in the doorway, your eyes glistening. "(Name)-"

"I get it," you swallowed thickly, "She was your first love. I just wish you'd stop pretending like this relationship means anything to you." You turned and retreated to your room, locking the door and falling down against it, tears flowing freely.

You knew it was unfair. You knew he'd known her his whole life and you just a year. But you kind of hoped that since you'd actually developed what you thought was a meaningful, deep romantic relationship with him, he wouldn't have to think about it. You kind of hoped he would just choose you, simple as that. And you know it was unfair to him, and selfish of you. But you couldn't help it.

"(Name)!" The sharpshooter knocked on your door. "Please let me in!" He sounded panicked, like he did before you all went into a fight.

"Go away, Usopp," you yelled, but the pain in your voice was too clear for him to ignore.

Normally he would give up. He does that very easily. But when it comes to you he doesn't stop, and he never will. He hates leaving you on your own, especially when you're upset and even more so when he's the reason you're upset.

"Please, baby," he pleaded, "Let me explain! I never said I would! Please, just open up. Let's talk about this!"

"You can say what you want through the door," you told him, "Otherwise we don't talk at all." And yes, again this was unfair to him, but again you couldn't help it.

"I know what you must be thinking," he immediately started, "And you're wrong. Yes I used to love Kaya, and yes we almost had a relationship, but that was clearly not meant to be. Because I met you, and I fell in love with you, and I can't imagine loving anyone else now that I know what it feels like to love you." He paused for a moment, thinking of what else to say, and then, "You're the love of my life now, and I know that it will stay that way even if we were to somehow end up back in the East Blue. You are my girlfriend now, and I only ever want or think about you. Please believe me, it'll only ever be you."

Hearing all of this slowly calmed you down, and you didn't even notice when the tears stopped. His sincere, loving words hit you right where you needed them the most, and you stood up to open the door.

"You mean all that?"

"Yes," he looked like he was on the verge of tears himself. "Please don't break up with me."

"Oh, Usopp," you laughed and wiped your eyes, "I could never do that. Especially not after such sweet words. You're stuck with me."

"And hopefully always will be," he added, immediately hugging you and almost crushing your bones. "I'm so sorry (Name), I'm sorry I made you cry!" And then he actually started crying.

"Usopp..."

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dduane · 3 months ago

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i cant belive that you of all people are at risk of homelessness >:(

homelessness isnt a problem that should exist in general, but you, specifically, should have like a million dollars from the star trek novels alone

(chuckle) Wouldn't that be lovely! (And it's kind of you to be thinking that way.)

But alas, that's not how it works.

When you're working in/for other licensed universes—which is always on a work-for-hire basis—the only really significant payment(s) you're likely to see will happen when you've turned in a given book and it's been formally accepted. And even then, the payment's rarely going to be higher than low-to-mid five figures... which (after your literary agent gets their cut, and after your taxes on the income get paid) won't take you very far even in a single year, let alone the years that follow.

If you're very lucky in your publisher, or have a very good agent—which I do—you may even manage to get some royalties on such a novel. But they'll be at the low end of the scale—maybe 2-3% of the cover price. (Bearing in mind that even for original novels in one's own universe, an author rarely gets more than 8-10% of a given book's cover price in royalties.) And when the book goes out of print, the royalties stop.

So just because the owner of the IP makes a lot of money off it, doesn't mean that any significant amount of it necessarily trickles down to the writer. (sigh) Nor does the fact that a book is good, or the writer is good, or both, make any significant difference in this branch of mathematics. Eventually, pretty much inevitably, sooner or later sales of a book drop off and the publisher lets it go out of print.

(shrug) It's not like I didn't know this was eventually going to happen when I wrote my Star Trek work. I did that because I loved Trek (and still do), and I was sure I could write a better Trek novel than anyone else had up until that point. (And maybe that was even true. Who knows.) To have done the work was the thing that primarily mattered.

But let this be a reminder to folks that only a low percentage of writers make enough from their writing alone to live on: and that something like 90% of writers at times live at or near the poverty line and sometimes slip below it. ...And for all of us, even for strong writers who seem moderately successful and have other income streams, bare patches happen: times when publishers don't pay (for example, I still haven't been paid anything for Disney/Marvel's reissue of my Spider-Man books), times when you can't work, or times when accident or illness or other unexpected circumstance eats the cash you've stashed away to serve as a cushion.

This is not a safe lifestyle. With talent and luck and endless slogging away at/over the writing mechanism of your choice, and with the support of your readers (whom I'm very much thinking of at the moment!—and thanks again to the Ebooks Direct customers and Ko-Fi friends who just now saved our butts), it can be survived. Which, from day to day, @petermorwood and I do our best to keep on doing.

...In any case: people who even at this end of time can say things about my work such as you did at the top of this, make me feel like about a million dollars. 🙂 (And since today I have both an upper respiratory infection and laryngitis, that's quite a trick!) ...So thanks.

ETA: for those curious, to deal with local physical issues I am now making this chicken soup, which—whether or not it has any actual therapeutic benefit—is still going to be very nice. ...It annoys the shit out of me that I have to leave out the onions and garlic, which would quickly trigger my IBS and subject me to an entirely different level of pain; but such is life. We've got all the other ingredients on hand sans the fresh turmeric, and if there's one thing this soup's short on, it's chilies. Which around here, believe me, is a deficiency that Peter's well positioned to remedy. :)

#writers' income #etc

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silksandcravats · 2 months ago

Text

No Sleeping Alone - Dean x Reader blurb

headcanon on boyfriend!dean who does NOT condone sleeping apart from you.

After years of lonely trips and no true closeness, Dean finally has you. And he refuses to spend any more nights alone, at least, not when you’re under the same roof.

No matter what.

Lovers quarrels are inevitable. Dean had always been a hothead, his anger boiled fast, and his sharp words shot out even faster.

Going into the whole thing, you knew your relationship would require strong patience on your end.

But you’re only human, so sometimes you’d snap, and call him out on his shit.

The fight grew to a peak, and to his credit, Dean was the one who stepped away first. Biting his tongue and exiting the room before he said something he really couldn’t take back.

You both keep your distance the rest of the day, opting to cool off in private.

The bunker was vast enough for you to comfortably avoid each other. Even through dinner, you both had found your own quiet moment to sneak in and out of the kitchen in record time.

You don’t know where to go as the day winds down, so you end up back in your old room. It was only a few doors further down the hallway, and you’d occupied it for quite a while.

Only it felt unfamiliar now. The very same room that was once your personal sanctuary now seemed cold and empty.

And damn it have queen mattresses always been this big?

It was just too much empty space for one person.

Still, it felt like the right thing to do, you both needed space to cool off. And the bedroom you now shared had been Dean’s first, so of course you should be the one to go.

This was the most logical place to spend the night.

It all made perfect sense, but you were still feeling sad and lonely as you curled up under the covers.

You pressed your eyes shut, trying to force sleep to come to you. Surely if you just held them shut long enough you’d drift off.

But you didn’t.

You wiggled around the ample empty space of the mattress, unsure what to do with yourself. So uncomfortable with the lack of a second, larger, warmer body, with grabby hands and little regard for how much space he took up.

You tapped out first most nights, you had no problem keeping late hours, but you needed your eight hours. Dean, on the other hand could go on four, even less sometimes. (No matter how many times you tried to convince him he needed more.)

So it took a while for Dean to realize what you’d done. But realize he did.

Eventually the door to your old room creaked open, and you didn’t flinch, you didn’t even have to turn to know who was there.

“There you are,” he sighed with relief.

Realistically, you’d always been somewhere in the bunker, where would you ever go? But in his panic, that logic hadn’t held.

“Why the hell are you in here?”

He’s irritated, but not like before. He’s not irritated at you, he’s irritated at the absense of you.

“I think we both need some space,” you sighed, back still to him. You heard his heavy steps as he moved deeper into the room, towards you.

“No.” He dismissed firmly.

“No?” You questioned back.

“We’re not fucking doing this,” he announced, decidedly gripping you and tossing you over his shoulder in one swift move.

You yelped, wriggling in his grasp until a firm swat to your backside stilled your squirming.

“Damn it, Dean! Did you forget we’re fighting?” you grunted, his shoulder digging harshly into your stomach.

“Well then we’ll work it out now, or tomorrow, I don’t really care but you’re sleeping with me.”

He deposited you on the side of the bed further from the door, your side.

You shuffled under the covers, propping your pillow so it was just so. You were trying to busy yourself with anything other than watching him strip down to his boxers and crawl in beside you.

Even in the early days, before anything was official, sharing a bed with Dean had always meant cuddles. Back to his front, chest to chest, you laying atop him.

You’d even managed to spoon him a few times when he was very very tired. The position was awkward, and your arms would ache the next morning, but for all that he did you felt he deserved to be held sometimes.

Now, for the first time, you were trying to keep space between you. It felt appropriate. It wasn’t as if you could erase the events of the day just because it was bedtime.

(Dean disagreed.)

“I’m too tired for this. C’mere,” He grunted.

He moved your unwilling limbs like a ragdoll, forcing you where he wanted you.

First, the hand around your waist tugged you, middle first against his body. His other arm around your back brought your chest completely flush to his, while a thick, muscled leg around yours brought the rest of you in. He had effectively trapped you against him.

“You go right here,” he hummed decidedly, tucking you in beneath the blanket.

“Dean-“ you protested weakly, not even convincing yourself.

“Where you belong,” his voice was low, content, and final.

As you laid in his arms your mood shifted, time had a way of making old anger feel pointless. You sank into his hold without even meaning to.

However mad you’d felt earlier couldn’t compare to the peace you felt now. The utter relief of being him his arms superseded any other feeling.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” you whispered after some time had passed.

You didn’t know if he was still awake, if he’d heard you until he answered.

“M’always gonna come get ya.” His tired voice croaked, chest rumbling against you. “You’re not going anyway.”

“Don’t want to go anywhere,” you agreed sleepily, wiggling closer against him.

“Good.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #spnfandom

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nepenthendline · 8 months ago

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the not-so-good parts about dating them

a/n: I am nothing if not a red flag lover

includes: midoriya, todokori, bakugo, shinsou, kirishima, kaminari, iida, hawks, aizawa

Midoriya -

Midoriya's priority list is '1. everyone' so, sometimes, it's difficult to feel special in his eyes. It's not that he doesn't see you as a top priority, he just often lets himself get caught up with other people and dealing with their problems so you don't get his undivided attention all that often. He doesn't mean to do it at all, but he has missed dates before because he was staying late at work to help his students or got stuck helping out a friend.

Bakugo -

🤨 Aside from his obvious anger issues, Bakugo often struggles to see you as a team and not just individuals. Whenever you argue, he often sees it as a 'me vs you' and not a 'us vs the problem', and he sometimes makes big decisions without talking to you first. He feels like he has to be better than you because he needs to be a provider and a protector, so he tackles issues on his own instead of talking to you and working things through as a team.

Todoroki -

Todokori has no reference to what a 'healthy' relationship looks like, and it terrifies him. All he knows is what, or who, he doesn't want to end up like, and it stops him from taking initiative in your relationship because he's scared of doing the wrong thing. He knows he's not like his father, but he still worries that he's going to end up like him anyway, as if it's fated. Because of this, things move incredibly slowly, and it can be hard to tell that he does love you since he doesn't often make moves or use words to show you. He knows he wants, and needs, to improve though, he just needs some guidance.

Kaminari -

Kaminari struggles with self-sabotage in your relationship - he convinces himself that he's not good enough for you or that he's making your life worse by being with you, and can push you away, cancel dates late minute or act like he doesn't need you. These actions never last long before he snaps out of it, and you're well aware by now of what's going on in his head when he starts acting like this, but he's always convinced he's going to fuck this up. And sometimes, he believes it so much that he does. The guilt eats away at him daily.

Kirishima -

(Absolutely nothing) Kirishima hates showing you when he's feeling down, weak, or 'unmanly'. He bottles up a lot of his negative emotions and thoughts away from you and they gnaw away at him. Its not that he feels like he can't talk to you, in fact sometimes he lets things slip because he feels so comfortable around you, but quickly tries to put a positive spin on his words so that you don't worry. It's more that he feels he shouldn't, and that you have enough things to deal with as it is. He wants to be a safe space for you, so dealing with his emotions is out of the question. He never blows up at you because things get too far though, you just wish he could rely on you more.

Iida -

For the first while in your relationship, it almost felt like you lost your friendship with Iida. The lines between being friends and being a partner were extremely defined to Iida for some time, and he felt that every interaction between the two of you had to be so formally-relationshipy - this meant things such as only spending time with you on pre-scheduled dates, affection felt like ticking boxes on what was 'meant' to come next in a relationship, or not letting you see his deeper, darker times. Things do get better after some time and conversations, but it kinda felt like the first year of your relationship didn't really count.

Shinsou -

Shinsou feels like being with you is the most selfish act someone has ever committed. Sometimes he even thinks that, somehow in a way he doesn't know, he's forcing you to be with him. He feels like you can do so much better than him, but he loves you too much to let you go (not that you would anyway). He thinks that he doesnt treat you as well as you deserve and so he goes overboard to 'make things up to you', when in reality he's the most caring, selfless person you've met. He often brings up the idea of you finding someone else, or that you can cheat on him and he'll stay if that makes you happy, and it breaks your heart every time.

Aizawa -

Aizawa feels like everyone he truly lets in, he has lost, and he is terrified that's going to happen to you. So, he tries to keep his feelings and thoughts for you as surface-level as possible. The problem is that he's terrible at doing that - he has such a big heart and he wants you in every way imaginable, which creates a lot of inner conflict for him. One minute he's telling you everything weighing on his mind and letting himself fall deeper into you, and the next he's keeping you at arms length. He's scared to admit that he relies on you or that he needs you, but he does it anyway and it tears him apart inside.

Hawks -

He lies to you more times that he would like to admit. Well, it's more that he's very good about skirting around a question or situation rather than telling you the truth. There's some things in his life, his past, or his thoughts that he feels are best not being part of your life, and so he will tell you little lies and make adjustments to the truth to fit a narrative that he prefers. He wants to protect you from any negativity or darkness that he can - he knows what going through that feels like and he does not want you to have to feel that too, but mostly, and most selfishly, he's terrified of you thinking he's a bad person because of some actions he's had to take. It can be almost impossible to tell when he's lying or telling the truth because he's extremely open and upfront with other topics.

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mixingandmelting · 4 months ago

Note

Hey so how do you think Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim would deal with their s/o thinking Damien’s adorable. Like he’s aggressive stray cat that doesn’t scare her kind of adorable? He might have this s/o wrapped around his fingers kind off, but they Don’t let him get away with things. Like Damien having beef with Jason and Tim and s/o does speak up for their boyfriend. Meanwhile, Jason and Tim starts something with Damien and s/o scolds their boyfriend?

Dick:

At first he was thrilled. Elated. The two of his favorite people are getting along with each other. But now?

“These cookies are quite good. Are there more?”

“Of course! Go ahead and help yourself to the whole tray.”

Blankly, he watches the teen grab another one from the third batch you baked this week. The very batch that was meant for him after he had complained how you’d go on a baking spree only when Damian comes over to hang out and not for him. The very batch you just easily handed over because you simply found him adorable.

With a huff, he walks over and plops himself onto a chair. Then, grabbing a cookie, he takes a bite and pointedly looks away from you with arms crossed and lips puffed out in a pout.

“Oh, don’t mind me enjoying MY cookie from MY cookie tray that was supposed to be for ME.” He takes another bite, further slumping into the chair.

“You can’t be real.” You mutter under your breath, a hand partially covering your face.

Damian slowly takes a sip from the glass you gave him, eyes trained on the one Bat he too was close with. “Is he usually like this?”

“Yes, when he’s being very much neglected by the person who isn’t giving him enough time and attention.” Down goes another bite of his cookie, knowing full well what expression you’d be wearing.

“I do though!”

“Well, not enough if I’m getting seconded to my own sibling!” Especially considering when today was supposed to be date night too! He snatches another cookie and chews on it. To think you’d be giving these cookies to Damian and not to him when they’re this good. Unbelievable.

“Dick.” He doesn’t care if he’s acting like a petulant child, he refuses to look at you. Only to stiffen once you sigh and he starts hearing shuffling noises behind him.

He was expecting you to come over and stand in front of him, hence his eyes closed when all of a sudden, he’s being hugged from the back and kissed on the crown of his head.

“I wouldn’t do this to someone who’s only ‘second’ in my heart, would I?”

He ignores Damian gags as he presses his face to the crook of your neck, tickling you with his lips.

“Lucky me that I’m your number one then.”

Later on, after Damian left and he successfully persuades you to bake him a whole batch for him to keep to himself this time, he gets a text telling him to decrease his PDA with you when in front of those younger than him by Bruce. He texts back to his fatherly figure only if the older male finally settles down.

Jason:

He’s had enough. While you were busy in the kitchen, he quickly grabs Damian by the scruff and proceeds to walk towards the door.

“Unhand me at once, Todd!”

“Not a chance this time, kiddo.” He smirks, being unfazed by all his pressure points being pressed as the teen, noticing this, resorts to tugging and twisting his wrist.

This whole week he’s been wanting to have some alone time with you. Recharge himself after being gone and away from you for over a month from being on stupid mission Bruce had requested him to do. Problem was, during his absence, you had taken a liking to the evil brat. How, he doesn’t know. From what, he also doesn’t know. What he does know is that it was reciprocated where the brat said over the table during family dinner last week, and Jason quotes, “the one best thing Todd has ever done”. Unfortunately for him, fortunately to Damian, you weren’t there when he said that or else he could’ve watched how you would’ve defended his “honor”. Either way, it was the worst thing for him to find out when he came back and saw you and him chatting over tea, TEA, of all things.

“Jason, what are you doing?” Dammit. He was so close!

He stops in his tracks and slowly turns around.

“He said that he wanted to go home, so I was helping him walk to the door?”

“Lies!” He clicks his tongue while the younger points and shoots at him a glare. “He was trying to kick me out!”

Hands on the hips, lips in a straight line - Oh no, he’s familiar with that stance. One second passes, his eyes pleading into yours. Then another. Finally, with a groan, he begrudgingly and slowly lets him down.

“See? The wasn’t so hard?”

It was hard. Very hard.

“Agreed. You should learn to be mature like your s/o, Todd.” He scowls, wishing looks could bury a person as Damian flashes a smug grin back at him.

“Not so fast, Damian.” He turns towards you, confused as to why you’re directing your disappointed frown at him now. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you cheating while playing Smash against Jason.”

Instantly, their expressions swapped, Damian scowling while he snickers and mouths “loser” at him.

That’s how they ended up getting stuck with washing the dishes after you put them in a ten-minute time out. They nearly get in trouble again with Damian trying to stab him at any given moment while Jason dodges and eggs him over how he can’t properly wash a dish. At least he gets his well deserved time with you once the former leaves, albeit sulking with you not taking his side completely.

Tim:

Every single time your back is turned, it’s a battle. From mouthing insults to physical attacks (he’ll argue and die on this hill all of those were one-sidedly from Damian), they’ve long passed the point of no-return and are currently at where there could only be one left standing. Is it ridiculous? Yes. However, he’s willing to put up with the fight if it means to prove his point that you like him more!

Hell, he doesn’t even know what Damian did to make you dote on him so much. Stray cat? Cute aggressiveness? There’s nothing like that, not even a resemblance of it. Yet, apparently, you can see it with how you tend to get that little demon pet treats for all the animals he’s raising in the manor.

The fact that it’s mutual makes the whole situation worse. Damian genuinely enjoys your company to where he had asked about your well-being once he somehow found out before him, your boyfriend, that you were sick. Tim has told you multiple times the teen didn’t approach you out of pure intentions, that it was all a trap so he could spite him. You ended up brushing it off, telling him he has such a good relationship with his younger sibling leading him to mourn he was too late and you were brain-washed.

“Well, I was here first!”

“No, you weren’t Drake! I was here before you!”

“I’m pretty sure I was.”

“Says who? You?”

The two of them continue to squabble over who gets to sit next to you on the two-person sofa while you’re making popcorn for the movie. A decision which was made when the two of them had argued over watching documentaries on endangered animals and playing video games. Also another argument that started from who gets to hang out with you today. Which, he still thinks, he should’ve been chosen since he’s YOUR boyfriend. But, again, that’s just what he thinks.

“Alright! Popcorn’s ready!” Neither of them hear you, their argument escalating.

“I’m obviously the favorite since I get invited all the time!”

“As if! You do realize I’m the boyfriend here!”

It’s then they pause realizing it’s been quiet the last minute. Too quiet. Eyes like deer in headlights, their eyes went from each other to seeing you standing behind the sofa and munching on popcorn.

That’s their cue. There were nudges and jabs being made as they got up from the floor but eventually they straightened their clothes and stood with their heads hanging low. And as expected, both of them got scolded like children, you telling Damian the need to use words rather than action while to Tim, he shouldn’t be trying to kick his younger sibling out from the start.

#dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin dc #tim drake #red robin

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sirxaibs · 1 month ago

Text

Sanji Vinsmoke X Reader

Gimme Some Advice

masterlist

Synopsis: Me when I yearn. Me and I yearn but have a healthy relationship with my friends and knows not to be jealous but still allow myself to feel things

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡ You were sprawled out on a sun chair, kicking your legs back and forth and humming a random tune to yourself, still feeling giddy from the delicious meal Sanji had served earlier. Your hair fluttered in the wind, and your bright eyes scanned the open sea until

BAM. “[Y/N]!”

Sanji came flying across the deck like a torpedo, arms flailing for balance as he skidded to a halt in front of you. His shirt was untucked, cigarette barely hanging on his lip, and a wild, borderline panicked look in his eyes. You blinked. “…You okay there, Romeo?”

Sanji bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath. “I I need your help.”

Your brows lifted with curiosity and amusement. “What, did Luffy eat the last cookie again and you’re plotting revenge?”

“No, this is serious!”

You sat up straighter, suppressing a grin. “Okay, okay. What is it?”

Sanji straightened, brushed back his hair dramatically, and looked at you with those swirly, golden eyes as if he were about to confess some great truth.

“I need you to tell me… how to pull a woman.”

You stared at him.

Then burst into laughter. “I’m sorry what?”

Sanji flushed, his hands flying up. “I know! I know it sounds ridiculous coming from me, but I swear I’m being serious. Dead serious.”

You giggled, slapping a hand over your mouth. “Sanji, my darling, you throw yourself at women like it’s a sport. If flirting were a martial art, you’d be a black belt.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” Sanji groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It doesn’t work. I mean, not really. They just giggle or wave me off like I’m some harmless breeze. None of them take me seriously. And I I want to be taken seriously. Just once.”

You quieted at that, your expression softening. “Oh, Sanji…”

He sighed, leaning back against the rail, his face turned to the sea. “There’s this girl. Not someone on this ship,” he added quickly, glancing at you. “She’s kind and funny and strong. But when I talk to her, I get so nervous I just default to… you know.”

“the pathetic lover boy routine not enough for you?” you said innocently, batting your lashes.

Sanji shot you a look, lips twitching despite himself. “Yes, that.”

You hopped off the chair and padded toward him, poking his chest lightly. “Okay, lover boy. Let’s get one thing straight: You’re not failing because you flirt. You’re failing because you flirt like a cartoon heart attack. There’s nothing authentic about it..”

He blinked at you. “…Huh?”

You grinned. “There's nothing I'm complaining about, though. I think it's really cute. The best kind of complement is the one that sounds like you didn’t rehearse it a hundred times in the mirror.”

Sanji looked thoughtful. “But what if I mess up? Say something stupid?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Sanji, you do say something stupid every single time you meet a woman and they still smile at you. Imagine what would happen if you were just… you. The sweet, reliable, passionate, incredible cook who makes the best damn meals on the sea and puts his heart into everything he does.” Sanji’s ears turned pink. You leaned in, voice teasing. “That Sanji? That guy’s dreamy.”

He sputtered, waving smoke away from his cigarette. “S Stop saying things like that. I’m trying to focus!”

You giggled, twirling a lock of your hair. “Fine, fine. You want real advice?”

“Please.”

“Okay.” You folded your arms and nodded. “Step one: Calm down. You don’t need to win someone’s heart in ten seconds. Stop making it a performance and start making it a conversation.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay…”

“Step two: Ask her questions. Not just compliments. Be curious about who she is, not just how she looks.”

“Right…”

“And step three,” you said, tapping his forehead, “don’t chase. Just be. If she likes you, she’ll come closer. And if she doesn’t… you don’t need to change who you are to impress her.”

Sanji looked down at you genuinely, for a moment no exaggerated grin, no dramatic swoon. “You really think that’ll work?”

You smiled warmly. “I know it will. You’ve already got everything you need. You just need to believe someone could fall for you”

He stared at you in silence for a moment. “You’d make a hell of a love doctor, [Y/N].”

“I take payment in dessert,” you winked.

Sanji chuckled softly, then took a final drag of his cigarette and tossed it overboard. “Right away madamoiselle”

You shrugged playfully. “Good boy now go do your thing” As he turned to head back to the kitchen, you called after him, “Sanji?” He glanced back, his usual grin starting to sneak back into place. You smiled. “The right girl? She’ll see you. Just give her the chance.”

He gave you a mock salute. “Then I’ll make sure I’m someone worth seeing.” with that, he vanished into the galley.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The world was quiet tonight. The sea whispered gently against the hull of the Thousand Sunny, and the breeze that swept through the ship’s open deck was crisp, carrying the smell of salt and the faintest trace of spices from the galley below. The crew had all gone off to their own little corners of the ship some reading, some napping, and others chattering softly out of earshot.

You lay in the middle of the main deck, arms stretched out to your sides, eyes wide open to the tapestry of stars overhead. The wind moved through your hair, playing with strands like it was trying to keep you company. But the real comfort came from just a few feet away Brook sat atop a crate, bathed in the soft, swaying light of the lanterns above, his long bony fingers gliding across the strings of his violin.

It wasn’t his usual upbeat, silly melody the ones he played to make Chopper dance or to accompany some skull joke. No, this was something else. Something soft. Thoughtful. The kind of song that didn’t need lyrics to speak. It trickled into your chest like warm tea in cold hands. It held something gentle and aching in every note. You stared at the stars, your lashes still and unmoving. Your chest rose and fell in time with the music. And somewhere between the quiet and the chords, your mind drifted to him.

Sanji.

You let the name echo in your thoughts. You didn’t try to chase it away. You smiled faintly. He had fallen for someone. You didn’t know her. You didn’t need to. You could tell by the way he spoke, by the way he looked different lately. Softer, more grounded. Less dramatic for show, and more… sincere. Like there was someone he genuinely wanted to be better for. And gods, it was so like him. That hopeless romantic heart of his. That constant need to give everything to someone who made his heart flutter.

And you? You had always laughed with him. Teased him when he did his little twirls or dropped to one knee in front of any woman in a ten mile radius. You’d rolled your eyes, called him ridiculous, joked that his flirtations were more extra than Zoro’s vendetta against stairs.

But you’d never said the truth. Not once. That sometimes, when he smiled at you not as a flirt, but just you your heart would skip. That there were moments when you thought maybe… maybe you were the one he’d fall for if he ever took a real chance. But he hadn’t. he was chasing someone else. Someone who made him nervous. You let out a soft breath, eyes still on the stars, a weight pressing gently against your ribs.

It wasn’t a jealous hurt. You were happy for him. Truly. It was just the kind of ache that came from wondering what if. Brook’s melody shifted slightly higher, like a question being asked in the dark. As if he knew.

You didn’t move. You didn’t cry. You just felt. Because it was okay to feel it. To mourn something that was never yours. To lie under the stars and let the music carry the weight of your silence.

you thought of him. Of the way his voice softened when he wasn’t being loud. Of how he always made your plate first when he knew you were having a bad day. Of how, sometimes, you imagined what it would be like if those small gestures were something more. Your fingers curled slightly against the wood. Another breeze passed over you, lifting your hair gently, and you blinked slowly, your gaze still locked on the sky.

The music swelled one last time before fading into the hush of the ocean, Just one song. One quiet night. One unspoken heartache. And then the world was still again. You lay there, unmoving, letting the silence settle. though the ache was still there, something inside you softened too like maybe, even if the story you wanted wasn’t yours, the chapter was still worth feeling.

“Did you know,” Brook began, his voice soft in the night air, “that the stars you see are sometimes already dead?”

You blinked slowly, then smiled, lips barely curving. “That’s… kind of depressing, Brook.”

“Yohoho, perhaps,” he chuckled lightly, “but it’s also strangely beautiful, don’t you think? That something can shine even after it’s gone.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. I guess I like that.”

There was a beat of silence, “Do you think Luffy’s ever tried to eat a star?”

You snorted. “Absolutely. ”

Brook let out a full laugh, his ribs gently rattling with the motion. “I should write that down for a new lyric. ‘I reached for a star and bit down on a dream delicious!’”

You groaned, laughing despite yourself. “That is so cheesy.”

Another comfortable pause settled between you. You listened to the creak of the ship, the soft splash of water against the hull, and the distant thrum of something in the engine room probably Franky still working on some little project with his usual midnight energy.

Brook tilted his skull back. “Do you think fish sleep?”

“I think they have to. Maybe with one eye open. Like Zoro.”

Brook nodded solemnly. “Scary.”

You giggled and rolled over onto your stomach, resting your chin on your forearms. “What about skeletons? Do they sleep?”

Brook tapped his chin. “Hmm… difficult to say. I don’t have eyelids, so I’ve never actually seen myself do it.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Not as exhausting as trying to take a bath when you don’t have skin.”

“Brook, what ”

“And on the subject of things I can’t do… may I see your panties?”

You stopped. Deadpan. Emotionless. You slowly pushed yourself up from the deck, brushing some hair from your face as you gave him the flattest look in the history of facial expressions.

Brook clasped his hands politely. “it would be such a lovely gesture.”

You pointed toward the hallway with a single, resigned finger. “You’re done.”

He blinked. “Oh?”

“You’re done,” you repeated, standing up and brushing off your clothes. “That’s it. Conversation’s over. Pack it up, skeleton.”

“Wait, my dear! I merely !”

You walked off toward the girls’ quarters without another word, your hand raised in a lazy wave behind you.

“Goodnight, Brook.”

He sighed behind you. “Ah, the pain of rejection. It cuts deeper than the Grand Line’s fog!”

You kept walking, hiding your smile. from behind you, drifting in the sea kissed night, came a final, cheerful:

“Sweet dreams! Yohohohoho!”

You shook your head as the door closed behind you, smiling to yourself. Even heartbreak couldn’t compete with this crew’s ridiculousness.

The soft creak of the ship accompanied your entrance as you returned to the girls’ quarters, your steps light but tired from the long, quiet moment you’d had with Brook on the deck. You rubbed your arms absentmindedly as you passed the threshold, the warm lamplight casting a cozy glow across the room.

Nami was sprawled comfortably on the couch with a drink in hand, her legs tucked under her, a mischievous glint already dancing in her eyes. Robin sat nearby in an armchair, book in hand, but she looked up as you entered.

“There she is,” Nami announced, smirking knowingly as she took another sip. “Have fun with our resident skeleton?”

You plopped down beside her with a hum, grabbing a pillow to hug against your chest. “It was nice. He played something soft. Kinda hit me in the heart a little.”

Robin’s smile deepened slightly. “Brook’s music often does.”

Nami raised a brow. “I have a love hate relationship with that man”

“Well…I couldnt blame you” You grinned. “It got weird eventually. I left before he could ask about my underwear.”

“EW LETS BURN HIM” Nami choked, laughing.

“shhhhh bed time now,” you confirmed, deadpan.

Nami snorted, shaking her head before she shifted back to her earlier topic with Robin, eyes alight with playful mischief. “I’m just saying,” she said, raising her glass again, “whoever this woman is… poor, poor soul. She has no idea what she’s walking into.”

You wheezed, pressing the pillow to your face. “Nami!”

“I mean it!” she cackled. “Can you imagine Sanji not spinning around like a lovesick ballerina the second she smiles at him? He’d probably burst into a heart shaped firework just from holding her hand.”

Robin chuckled behind her book, one elegant brow lifting. “He does tend to be… passionate.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed, eyes watering,

“Don’t forget the nosebleed,” Nami added, clinking her glass in the air.

The room burst into another round of giggles, warm and breathless, echoing softly around the cabin. It felt like home. But then your smile softened. You clutched the pillow a little tighter and leaned back against the cushions, your laughter quieting as your thoughts drifted slightly. “…I think it’s kind of cute, though,” you murmured.

Nami blinked and looked over. “What, that he’s basically a walking romance novel?”

You shook your head, smiling more to yourself than to them. “No. That he’s finally trying to take something seriously.”

Robin gently set her book down, her eyes curious and warm. Nami tilted her head, her teasing expression melting into one of genuine interest. You took a breath and let your voice settle. “I mean, sure, Sanji flirts like he’s getting paid for it. But this time? It’s different. He actually cares. You can see it in how he talks, how he moves. Like… he wants to be better. Not just charming genuine. That’s kind of huge for him.”

Nami leaned her elbow against the armrest, watching you closely. Her smirk faded into something quieter.

“He asked me for advice,” you added, fingers fiddling with the edge of the pillow. “that's so lame and cute”

Robin offered a soft, thoughtful smile. “It sounds like he’s growing.”

You nodded. “Yeah. And I know we all tease him believe me, I’ll never stop but part of me is proud of him, you know? He’s not trying to win over a dozen hearts. Just one.”

There was a quiet moment. The kind that wrapped around you like a soft blanket. Even the waves outside seemed to hush themselves. Nami exhaled loudly and flopped back. “Ugh. I hate that you made that sound sweet.”

You burst out laughing, sinking deeper into the cushions. “Because it is! He’s ridiculous, but he’s sincere when it counts.”

Nami pointed at you with a lazy glare. “If this ends with him writing sonnets and reciting them at dinner, I will throw myself overboard.”

“Good,” you grinned, “I’ll write your eulogy.”

Robin’s smile turned amused again. “Maybe the sea really will turn to wine next.”

You stretched out with a yawn, heart just a little lighter than before. “Or maybe our little chef’s finally found someone worth changing for.”

The room quieted again, the gentle rhythm of the ship rocking beneath you. Somewhere in the galley, a chair scraped faintly, a sign that Sanji was still awake, maybe cleaning, maybe daydreaming.

The kitchen was clean. Spotless, even. Every dish dried and put away, the counters gleaming, the scent of lemon and herbs still lingering faintly in the air.

Sanji stood alone at the center island, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, the other loosely holding a bottle of wine he hadn’t poured yet. The glass in front of him remained empty, catching the golden glow from the overhead lanterns.

His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up, collar a little undone. His tie hung around his neck, loose and forgotten. His hair fell in front of his eyes in soft curls as he hunched over the counter and let out a long, slow breath.

“…Idiot,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “Stupid, stupid idiot.”

The cork creaked as he pulled it out of the wine bottle, then set it aside. He didn’t pour it yet just stared at the glass like it had personally offended him.

“Of course you asked her for advice,” he mumbled sarcastically, voice full of self mockery. “Genius move, really. Go ask the woman you’re in love with how to win someone else over. Brilliant. Next level romance tactics.”

He sighed, dropping into one of the stools, elbows on the counter, bottle still in hand.

“She probably thinks I’m pathetic. No worse. She probably pities me.” He leaned his head forward until it thudded lightly against the counter. “And then she said I was cute.”

His face flushed immediately.

His voice dropped to a quieter murmur, warm with memory. “She said I was cute just the way I am.”

He let the thought hang in the silence, echoing a little louder in the privacy of the kitchen than it had in the moment it happened. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard.

She’d said it so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it was obvious.

Sanji rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twitching. “So what do you do, huh?” he asked no one. “You take that… softness, that little bit of warmth, and you turn around and act like your heart belongs to someone else? You let her believe that?”

He sat back up and finally poured the wine. The liquid splashed neatly into the glass, dark and rich. He stared at it, jaw tight.

“She probably thinks I’m in love with this new pretend woman. And I let her think that.”

He took a sip. He winced.

“Idiot.”

The word came out smaller this time. Not angry. Just… tired. He swirled the glass slowly, watching the way the wine clung to the sides. What was he even doing?

It wasn’t that he meant to lie. He just… panicked. He didn’t know how to say, “Hey, it’s you. It’s been you.” Not without ruining everything. Not without seeing her look at him with pity or worse, discomfort.

So instead, he twisted the truth into something safe. Something that would let her stay close, even if it meant she’d never know the real reason his heart pounded every time she smiled. And now here he was. With wine. And a thousand regrets. Sanji leaned back in his stool and stared at the ceiling.

“…That Sanji? That guy’s dreamy..”

He smiled faintly. Just for a second.

Then he took another drink and muttered again, quietly: “Yeah. Still an idiot.”

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The sun rose bright and golden, casting warm beams across the deck of the Thousand Sunny. The sea was calm today blue skies, soft waves, and the smell of salt on the breeze. It was the kind of morning that promised a good day, or at the very least, a good breakfast.

You stepped out from the girls’ quarters with a sleepy yawn, your hair a little messy and your shirt slightly rumpled from tossing in bed. The moment your feet touched the deck, you felt it a strong pair of hands grabbed yours and spun you into the air.

“FOOOOOOD!!” Luffy shouted, laughing with wild energy.

“Luffy!” you squealed, dizzy but giggling as he twirled you around in a circle like a child with a new toy.

“I can smell it! Sanji’s cooking something amazing!” he cried, holding your hands as he danced with you in a crooked circle. “It’s meat day, I know it!”

You laughed breathlessly as he practically bounced on his heels, his enthusiasm contagious. “You say that every day!”

“Yeah, because I want it every day!” Luffy grinned, his wide, carefree smile beaming down at you. “Sanji’s meat is the best meat ever!”

“Phrasing, Luffy,” Nami said dryly from behind, stepping up onto the deck with a stretch and a mug of coffee.

Robin followed her, calm as ever, a book already tucked under one arm. “Morning,” she greeted softly.

“Morning!” you chirped, finally freed from Luffy’s grasp and straightening your shirt with a grin. “Someone’s fired up today.”

“Sanji’s breakfast are always special,” Luffy said seriously, his head already swiveling toward the galley. “He’s gonna make the eggs all fancy again, I can feel it in my soul.”

“You don’t have a soul,” Zoro muttered from where he was leaning against the railing, clearly only half awake.

“YOU don’t have a soul!” Luffy snapped back without hesitation.

You laughed as Chopper popped up beside you, sniffing the air excitedly. “Is that cinnamon? I think he’s making pancakes too!”

“Cinnamon and meat?!” Luffy gasped, dramatically grabbing you again by the shoulders and shaking you gently. “WE’RE GOING TO HAVE THE BEST FOOD EVER!”

You snorted. “Luffy, please. I haven’t even had water yet.”

From inside the galley, the sound of pots clanging and something sizzling filled the air, along with the unmistakable scent of breakfast being prepared with far too much care for people who would inhale it in under ten minutes. Sanji’s silhouette passed by the window briefly, towel over his shoulder, cigarette hanging from his mouth, sleeves already rolled up. He was in his element.

“C’mon, let’s set the table!” Chopper called, already hurrying to grab the cutlery.

Luffy started dragging you with him, eyes sparkling. “Come on come on come on come ooooon!”

You stumbled along after him with a laugh, glancing once toward the galley door as you passed. You caught the faintest glimpse of Sanji inside, wiping his hands and adjusting a tray of fruit focused, meticulous, and humming under his breath. He didn’t look up. Still, the sight made your chest warm for a second.

“FOOD!” Luffy yelled again.

And just like that, your feet left the deck once more as the world spun in circles and laughter echoed in the salt sweet air.

The dining table was already packed with plates steaming stacks of cinnamon pancakes, golden and fluffy, with fresh berries glistening like jewels. Plates of sliced fruit and scrambled eggs surrounded platters of sizzling meat, toast with butter that melted on contact, and glasses of fresh juice so vibrant they looked like sunlight in a cup. Everyone was in their place, Luffy practically vibrating with excitement as he bounced in his seat, holding himself back with visible restraint. Chopper was wide eyed, murmuring a small, “Wow,” under his breath. Brook had already begun singing softly to himself in the background, adding a calm rhythm to the buzz of morning chatter.

And then came Sanji.

He emerged from the galley with the final tray a dish of roasted vegetables and sweet sausages, perfectly arranged. His sleeves were still rolled up, his apron dusted lightly with flour, and his hair slightly tousled from the heat of the kitchen.

“Ladies,” he announced with a low, charming bow, “your breakfast has arrived.”

He moved first to Nami, as always, placing her plate in front of her with graceful precision. “For you, my lovely Nami swan, with extra honey on your pancakes just the way you like.”

She smirked behind her mug of coffee. “Charming as always, Sanji.”

“And for you, divine Robin chwan,” he said next, setting her dish down with a delicate touch. “Light seasoning, a side of papaya, and just a pinch of powdered sugar.”

Robin gave him a small, pleased smile. “Thank you. You’re quite attentive.”

And then he turned to you.

You were mid sip of juice when he knelt beside you instead of merely leaning over. The tray he carried was smaller, more focused. A beautiful arrangement of all your favorites crispy hash browns, folded omelet with cheese and herbs, pancakes with caramel drizzle and sliced bananas, and a perfectly cut piece of grilled sausage shaped like a little heart.

“Mon trésor,” he said softly, offering the tray like it was a gift more than a plate. “Everything you love. And I made the syrup myself.”

Your breath caught slightly, caught off guard by the subtle, extra sparkle in his eyes. He looked… softer, not just playful. Like this breakfast wasn’t just breakfast. Like he’d memorized your taste for reasons he hadn’t admitted yet.

You blinked, then gave him a slow, teasing smile. “You didn’t carve a heart sausage for the others, did you?”

“No,” he replied smoothly. “Only for the one who deserves it.”

You felt Nami’s stare from the other side of the table and heard Luffy inhale sharply next to you like he’d just discovered something juicy.

“Sanji…” you said, eyes narrowing playfully, “what are you up to?”

“Nothing at all,” he lied, setting the plate down with a flourish. “Only offering the best to the woman who brightens this ship more than the sunrise.”

Robin chuckled quietly. Nami straight up snorted into her coffee.

You stared at him, suspicious and amused. “Is this still about mystery lady you like?”

Sanji didn’t answer right away. His smile twitched just slightly, eyes flickering across your face like he wanted to say something more but instead, he straightened with that classic, smooth grin.

“Only a fool wouldn’t treat someone as radiant as you like royalty,” he said simply, giving a little bow before turning away to serve the others. You glanced down at the heart shaped sausage. Something fluttered in your chest.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡You were mid bite into your syrup drenched pancakes when Nami slapped your shoulder with the back of her hand.

“OW !” you yelped, nearly dropping your fork. “What?!”

“Did you see that?!” she hissed, leaning in, her eyes wide with scandalized amusement.

“Mf what ?” you mumbled through a mouthful of food, blinking.

Nami grabbed a napkin and pretended to casually wipe her mouth, voice low and fast. “Girl, that wasn’t just flirting..”

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. You choked slightly.

Robin, still reading her book nearby, turned a page without looking up. “I think it was quite romantic.”

You turned to Nami, whispering hotly, “Okay, okay, I know, I’m sitting right here !”

Nami snickered, eyes sparkling like she was witnessing a live soap opera. “Don’t ‘I know’ me. I’ve never seen him look like that before. And he’s Sanji. His flirting is practically a weather system.”

You felt your face heat up, the kind of warmth that crept from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You reached for your juice, mostly for something to do with your hands. “Maybe he was just being… nice.”

“Oh yeah,” Nami drawled. “Super nice…. because he’s reaaaaaal nice”

You groaned into your hands. “Nami, please. He likes someone else, remember?”

That sobered her slightly. She leaned back, eyes narrowing with a more thoughtful glint. “Right. The ‘mystery woman.’” Then she gave you a side glance. “are you sure he said someone not on this ship?”

You bit your lip, still smiling on the outside, but there was a tug behind your ribs. A quiet little twist. Your eyes drifted back to the galley doors where he’d disappeared, probably humming while he finished up dishes or prepared Luffy’s inevitable third round. He’d looked so proud when he’d set your plate down. So sure of what he was doing. So… hopeful.

Nami tilted her head. “So… he’s head over heels and trying to grow a pair finally”

“Yeah.” You toyed with your juice glass, swirling the contents. “I think he actually wants it to mean something. For once.”

Nami let out a low whistle, then narrowed her eyes at you. “And how do you feel about that?”

You hesitated. “I mean… proud. I guess. I know we joke about how ridiculous he is, but… I think it’s really sweet he’s trying.”

She watched you for a beat too long. “But?”

Your smile faltered a little. You looked down at your plate.

“…But I feel kind of stupid,” you admitted softly.

Nami frowned. “Why?”

“Because the whole time I was helping him figure out how to win her over, I kept thinking…” You trailed off, then huffed a quiet laugh. “Never mind.”

Nami leaned closer. “Hey. Come on.”

You finally looked at her, cheeks warm. “I kept thinking how nice it would be if it was… me.”

There was a pause. Nami’s eyes softened. “Damn,” she whispered.

You elbowed her, laughing despite the ache in your chest. “Shut up.”

Robin closed her book with a soft snap. “Well… whoever she is, she must be someone very special.”

You smiled, a little more bittersweet this time, and took another bite of pancake. “Yeah,” you murmured. “She must be.”

Your fingers gently pushed a piece of banana around your plate.

He doesn’t love you. Not really. Even if part of him wants to. Even if you wish you’d said something before he asked for advice on how to love someone else.

Still blushing, you turned back to Nami, managing a weak grin. “I think I need more juice.”

as you stood, your eyes lingered one last time toward the galley. Just in time to see Sanji peek out just briefly like he was checking if you were enjoying your meal. Your heart squeezed, and you looked away before your smile gave too much away. He was trying so hard. Too bad it wasn’t for you.

The kitchen was warm with the scent of baked bread and spices when you wandered in, the early morning hush broken only by the soft clink of utensils and the faint sound of Sanji humming to himself. He stood at the counter with his sleeves rolled up, focused on arranging plates like he was crafting art instead of breakfast.

You leaned against the doorway with a small grin.

“Morning, loverboy.”

He jolted ever so slightly, a spoon slipping from his fingers and bouncing on the counter with a quiet clatter. “Tch must you sneak up on me like that?”

“I announced myself,” you said, walking in. “You’re just easy to rattle before coffee.”

He glanced over his shoulder, giving you a crooked smile. “If I’m rattled, it’s only because an angel wandered into my kitchen.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t waver as you made your way toward the pitcher of juice near the sink.

“I’m just here for this,” you said, reaching for a glass.

But before you could pour it, Sanji stepped beside you, brushing past with effortless grace. His hand slipped gently around your waist not holding, not lingering, just enough to move you an inch to the side so he could reach the pitcher.

“Allow me,” he said smoothly, as if he did this every morning. As if his hand hadn’t just sent a ripple of heat straight up your spine.

He poured the juice calmly, setting the glass down in front of you with a soft “Here you go.”

You took it, blinking, and looked down for a second to ground yourself before flashing him a smile.

“Thanks.”

Sanji leaned against the counter casually, watching you with that faint smile of his, the one that held just enough softness to make your chest feel tight. You took a sip, pretending not to notice the way your skin still buzzed faintly where he’d touched you. “Breakfast smells good.”

“Only the best for my favorite ladies,” he said smoothly

You looked down into your juice. “The food was delicious”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Im happy that I could be of service”

You glanced at him from over the rim of your glass. “You do that everyday amazingly”

He tilted his head, just the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I just like the smile it puts on your face.”

You nearly choked. You lifted your glass. “Careful, chef. Keep that up and the mysterious girl you’re into might get jealous.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. You meant it as a joke. A tease. A shield. Sanji’s smile faltered just for a second. His gaze flicked to yours, something unreadable there.

Then he laughed, but it was quieter this time. “I'm sure she wouldn’t mind.”

You turned slightly, sipping your juice to hide your expression. Your heart did something unhelpful and fluttery. The touch of his hand still lingered like a phantom against your waist. “Well,” you said, eyes on the glass, “if she’s smart, she’ll hold on tight.”

You didn’t look back as you walked out, but you felt his gaze trail after you all the way to the door.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡ cobblestone streets winding between open stalls, music playing faintly in the distance, and the smell of fresh pastries wafting through the air. With no mission scheduled, the Straw Hats had the rare gift of a free day on land. Naturally, you and Usopp took full advantage of it. You’d only been out for five minutes and had already stopped at three shops none of which you bought anything from. “Okay,” you said, holding up a ridiculous, oversized feathered hat from a vendor’s stall. “If I wear this, you think people will start treating me like royalty?”

Usopp struck a dramatic pose beside you. “You're so ratchet but it might work if I’m your royal advisor slash bodyguard slash legendary sniper.”

“So, your usual job?”

“Exactly,” he said proudly. “But Id be more likea knight and shining armour”

You snorted, putting the hat on Usopp’s head instead. “There. Now you look like a circus magician with tax fraud.”

He gasped in mock betrayal. “You take that back! This hat is limited edition!”

“Limited to what? Crimes against fashion?”

The vendor, who’d been quietly observing your antics, stifled a laugh while pretending to dust off some trinkets. Usopp adjusted the hat “You laugh now, but when I unveil my next great invention Usopp’s Amazing Weather Manipulation Cloak everyone will be begging to buy this look.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, starting to walk down the street with him. “And what does this miracle cloak do?”

He puffed out his chest. “Simple. It changes the weather according to your mood. Sunny when you’re happy, storms when you’re mad ”

“So basically, you want to create a walking hazard to public safety? we will be taking away Nami’s job”

“Exactly!”

You cackled, nearly tripping over a barrel. “God, it’s a good thing Chopper’s the doctor and not you.”

“Hey! My inventions have some scientific basis!”

You gave him a look. “Like when you tried to glue mirrors to your boots so you could ‘sneak around corners’?”

Usopp immediately turned red. “That was strategic! I was testing the laws of physics!”

“You blinded yourself.”

“shall we not dwell on the past you fiend”

You were both doubled over laughing by now, dodging around carts and weaving between market stalls. A group of kids ran past you squealing, and you barely missed getting smacked in the face with a balloon on a string. You eventually slowed near a little fountain in the town square, both of you catching your breath.

Usopp leaned on the edge of the fountain dramatically. “Man… why cant all days we stay like this.”

You took a sip from your water bottle and collapsed beside him on the ledge. “That isnt great warrior of the sea of you.”

The breeze picked up, brushing through your hair, and you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment just long enough for Usopp to break it. “Do you think Sanji would survive if we came back wearing matching ‘I ❤️ Zoro’ shirts?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “No. He’d implode.”

“immediate death then we’d get kicked off the ship.”

The sun glinted off the surface of the fountain water as you sat side by side with Usopp, still catching your breath from all the laughter. A light breeze picked up, rustling the colorful banners strung between rooftops and carrying the smell of sea salt and warm bread.

You were about to comment on how this was the first day in a while that felt truly peaceful when Usopp suddenly elbowed your arm.

“Hey, hey,” he said, nodding toward a stall across the square, “look who’s working his magic.”

You followed his gaze and immediately spotted Sanji. He was standing by a small fruit stall, all smiles and flowing compliments. The woman behind it a pretty local vendor was blushing furiously as Sanji offered to help carry something for her. His hand brushed hers lightly, and he flashed that dazzling, practiced grin you’d seen him give a thousand times before.

You swallowed, your smile fading just slightly. You tried to hide it, keeping your tone light.

“Guess that’s her, huh?” you murmured, glancing down at your hands in your lap.

Usopp blinked. “Her?”

You nodded faintly. “The one he asked me advice about. Makes sense, doesn’t it? We’ve been on this island for a week. He probably met her on one of those early grocery runs or something.”

Usopp looked back at the scene Sanji carefully adjusting the strap on the woman’s basket, saying something low that made her giggle and then back at you.

You gave a small sigh, more to yourself than anything. “She’s really pretty.”

Usopp’s face scrunched up, seeing the drop in your expression. “Hey, hey don’t go all mopey on me. You don’t even know if that’s the girl. He flirts with everything that moves.”

You laughed, despite yourself, but it was a little quieter than usual. Usopp, sensing he needed to go full Usopp mode, jumped to his feet. “Alright,” he said dramatically, striking a pose. “There’s only one thing to do in moments of emotional distress.”

You looked up, suspicious. “Usopp, what are you ”

“ Distraction via comedy!” he yelled, grabbing your hand with a flourish. “Come on, I’ll perform the Dance of a Thousand Legends!”

“What?!”

Before you could brace yourself, he spun you in an overly exaggerated twirl your legs tangled, your foot caught on the edge of the fountain

And with a splash, you were completely submerged in the cool, shallow water.

Usopp’s eyes went wide. “NO NO WAIT THAT WASN’T ”

You popped up, soaked from head to toe, blinking water out of your lashes, hair plastered to your cheeks.

“…Usopp,” you said slowly, voice eerily calm.

He held up both hands. “In my defense, that was the wind.”

You arched a brow, lips twitching despite yourself. “The wind spun me into the fountain?”

“It was a team effort.”

A beat of silence passed. Then you both cracked up. Laughter echoed around the fountain again, loud and genuine and ridiculous. A few people turned to look, but you didn’t care. Usopp offered you his hand with a grin, and this time, you took it just to yank him in with you. Another splash. Another shriek. Now you were both drenched, flailing in the fountain like overgrown children. You forgot about Sanji. You forgot about the girl. For the moment, there was just laughter, water, and one very amazing best friend who knew exactly how to pull you back to the surface.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The dock came into view, and you and Usopp were practically wheezing from laughter as you stumbled down the path toward the ship, clothes still slightly damp from your earlier fountain mishap. Your makeshift T shirts handwritten in bold, messy letters with black marker proudly declared:

“I ❤️ ZORO”

Usopp kept pausing every few steps to bend over, hands on his knees, cackling like he hadn’t laughed in years.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, holding your side. “The look on his face is going to kill me.”

“I’m not ready,” Usopp panted, straightening up. “We need to be serious. Completely serious. No laughing.”

You immediately broke into another fit of laughter. “I already can’t breathe, how do you expect me to be serious?”

When the ship came fully into view, you shared a silent nod.

You both climbed up the ramp with as much drama as two theater kids about to win an award. The sun glinted off your ridiculous shirts as you stormed aboard like you were coming back from war. Zoro was on the deck, leaning against the mast with a toothpick in his mouth, sword at his hip, arms crossed like he definitely hadn’t been napping two minutes ago. His eyes flicked up in your direction and immediately narrowed.

You and Usopp struck matching poses. Team Rocket who?

“Zoro~!” you cooed, spinning in a slow circle to show off your shirt. “Look what we got made just for you~!”

Usopp threw both arms out. “We’re your number one fans!”

Zoro stared for a full second. “What the hell is wrong with you two.”

“Love does strange things to a person,” you said seriously, clutching your chest like you were about to faint.

“Speak for yourself,” Usopp added, holding his hand out to Zoro. “Your number one admirer. Autograph, please?”

Zoro’s face didn’t change. “You’re both idiots.”

“And proud,” you shot back with a wink.

Zoro turned, started walking away.

Usopp gasped. “Wait! Are you running from your feelings?”

“I swear, I will cut those shirts off you.”

“I’d love for you to try,” you said, chasing after him like a lovesick fangirl. “Zorooo~ come back~!”

Zoro grunted, picking up the pace, muttering something about needing to train which was definitely just code for escape. You and Usopp high fived triumphantly behind him, nearly doubled over with laughter.

“I’m giving us full credit,” you wheezed.

“As you should,” Usopp grinned. “This is peak comedy.”

The rest of the crew could only stare in confusion, amusement, or deep concern as the two of you continued your dramatic pursuit across the deck, yelling declarations of love at a very, very done swordsman. Somewhere near the helm, Franky raised an eyebrow, watching you dart after Zoro with your wet hair still dripping and marker all over your shirt. He blinked.

“…so like I need that shirt” he muttered.

Nami, passing by with a drink, didn’t look up. “No. No, you don’t.”

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡The sun was low in the sky, casting a golden shimmer across the waves lapping gently against the docked ship. You stood near the edge of the deck, your still soaked hair dripping quietly onto the wood below as you twisted it in your hands, trying to wring out as much water as you could. The sea breeze lifted the ends of your hair and shirt, still clinging damply to your frame. Your laughter from earlier with Usopp had faded into a peaceful calm now, the kind that settles in after the hecticness dies down and your chest is sore from joy.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji stood just a few feet away frozen.

His cigarette hung lazily from his lips, forgotten.

The way the setting sun hit you glistening droplets trailing down your neck, the soft curve of your smile even in silence it was like something out of one of his daydreams. His heart gave a strange little flutter, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background. Sparkles. Literal sparkles.

He sighed, eyes softening like he didn’t even realize he was staring. then… he saw it. The shirt. “I ❤️ ZORO.”

His jaw clenched. The sparkles popped like a bubble. His eye twitched. “Zoro?” He looked around as if to yell “WHY ZORO?!” to the gods themselves.

Muttering something under his breath that might’ve included “blasphemous,” Sanji snuffed out his cigarette and made his way toward you, trying his best to look composed like his heart hadn’t just been broken by marker ink.

You heard soft footsteps behind you before you felt the gentle weight of a towel placed across your shoulders.

“Dry off properly,” Sanji said, voice low but kind. “You’ll catch a cold standing around like that.”

You blinked, looking over your shoulder at him in surprise.

“Oh thank you,” you said, taking the towel and patting your face first, then moving to your hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to leave a puddle. Again.”

He gave a small shake of his head, kneeling down slightly to help towel off the ends of your hair. “Don’t apologize. You looked like a drowned cat earlier. Now you look like a damp angel.”

You rolled your eyes with a small smile. “You were doing so well. So close to normal.”

“Can’t help it,” he murmured, fingers brushing your shoulder briefly before pulling back. “You’re lucky I care whether you freeze to death.”

You looked at him then, soft towel still pressed to your hair, and his gaze met yours for a second too long.

“…Thanks, Sanji,” you said again, a little more sincerely this time.

His hand hovered like he wanted to reach for you again, but then his eyes flicked back to your shirt. The grimace returned instantly.

“He doesnt deserve that,” he muttered, standing up straight.

You laughed as he turned away. “HEY! hes so babygirl I cant help it” you called after him.

“he is absolutely not” he shouted back. “You want breakfast tomorrow? Say goodbye to that shirt!” You grinned to yourself, towel wrapped around your shoulders, and turned back toward the waves, a little warmer than you’d been before.

Sanji had only made it a few steps before turning on his heel with a fresh spark of dramatics and indignation blazing in his eyes. “Actually,” he said, pointing directly at your chest well, your shirt, but it didn’t help his case “take that off.”

You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“That shirt!” he sputtered, already flailing slightly. “That insult to fashion and common decency take it off!”

Your grin curled like a mischievous wave. “Oh? So you do want me to take my clothes off.”

He froze Eyes wide. Face immediately red. “No I mean yes wait, NO!”

You burst into laughter, doubling over slightly with the towel still wrapped around your shoulders. “Wow, Sanji. I didn’t think you’d be so bold! Here? Out in the open?”

“That’s not ! That’s not what I meant, don’t twist my words like that!” he wailed, fanning himself with one hand, his other flailing like he was fighting off a swarm of bees. “I just I meant the shirt! Not ! Not you being ! Naked ! I mean, not that I’d mind NO, WAIT !”

You were fully wheezing now, nearly stumbling over the dock as you clutched the towel and your ribs.

“I can’t believe this is the hill you chose to die on,” you giggled.

He groaned into his hands. “This is not what I meant! Mosshead doesn’t deserve to be worshipped like that, not even ironically! What does he have that I don’t, huh?!”

You tilted your head with an evil sparkle in your eye. “You mean besides incredible muscle mass, a mysterious bad boy attitude, and oh my god hes just so handsome”

Sanji looked like you’d kicked him in the soul.

“I I have !” He pointed to himself, eyes wide, desperate. “I can cook! I’m chivalrous! I’d rather die than let you even get a scratch, i bet he wouldn’t even–”

You raised a brow, still smirking. “So… you’re saying you want me to wear your name on my shirt?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Blushed so hard he practically glowed.

Then muttered, “if it’s written in chocolate on you everything would change.”

You blinked. You weren’t sure if he meant on a shirt or on your skin, but judging by how red his ears were now, he wasn’t sure either.

“…You’re unbelievable,” you snorted, shaking your head and heading toward the ramp.

“You started it!” he called after you, still flustered and pointing. “I’m redeeming fashion! I’m doing the Lord’s work!”

You turned just slightly, giving him a wink.

“Sure, loverboy. Let me know when your merch line drops.” You disappeared up the ship, leaving a very red, very confused Sanji behind with his towel and shattered pride.

⟡𓌉◯𓇋₊˚⊹♡Everyone had long since gone to bed, their laughter fading into soft snores behind closed doors.

Except you.

Sleep just… wasn’t happening. No matter how many times you rolled over or how tightly you hugged your pillow, your mind wouldn’t stop spinning. So you gave up, slipped into a loose sweater and shorts, and padded softly down the hall barefoot toward the kitchen. you padded softly into the kitchen, hoping some warm tea or leftover fruit might help settle your restless thoughts.

What you didn’t expect was the dim glow of the kitchen lamp already on… or the disheveled blond figure hunched over on the bench beneath the window.

“Sanji?”

His head lifted slowly. His tie was loose and crooked, shirt half buttoned, and his hair messier than usual like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. His cheeks were flushed a faint rose, and his eyes were just the wrong kind of glossy.

He blinked, then smiled like he was watching the sun rise for the first time.

“Angel,” he breathed. “You really do walk on clouds, don’t you?”

You blinked, caught a little off guard by how fast he perked up.

“Hey, hey easy there, loverboy,” you said with a chuckle, walking over and gently placing your hands on his shoulders to ease him back down. “Calm down, big boy.” You couldn’t help a snort. “Okay, Casanova, how many glasses in are you?”

He held up two fingers… then thought about it and added a third. “10.”

“Right.”

You walked past him to the counter and grabbed a clean cup, filling it with water. “You’re lucky it’s me and not Zoro. He’d have tied you to the mast for being this loud.”

“He’s just jealous of me,” Sanji mumbled dramatically, gaze following you the entire way.

You walked back to him, holding out the glass. “Drink this. You’re gonna regret whatever this is in the morning.”

He stared at the water. “But you’re the only thing I’m thirsty for ”

“Sanji,” you warned with a half laugh, plopping into the chair beside him and crossing your arms.

“Right. Water.” He took the glass and chugged it like it might turn into wine. “That was for you.”

“Thanks,” you snorted. “I feel incredibly hydrated by proxy.”

He swayed slightly and rested his cheek against his fist, still looking at you like you held the moon in your palms. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “You tell every girl that.”

“But I mean it more when it’s you,” he slurred softly.

Your lips parted, but the words didn’t come. There was something raw about how he said it. Like he wasn’t trying to charm you. Just… saying what he felt.

You swallowed and looked away for a second, staring at the quiet kitchen. “Why’re you drinking alone?”

He shrugged, shoulders loose and hazy. “Just thinking. About stupid things. About smart things that feel stupid. About shirts and swords and ” he hiccuped, “ how I’ll never be cool like Zoro.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Zoro wouldn’t even know how to turn on a stove.”

“I know!” Sanji whined. “I know. But he doesn’t need to. People just like him anyway. And you ” he paused, his voice dropping a little “you wore his name.”

That made you blink. You looked at him fully now. “Sanji…”

He let out a breathy laugh and shook his head, burying his face in his arms against the table.

“I’m being dumb again, huh?” he mumbled. “I always get like this when you’re near. It’s like my brain turns into scrambled eggs.”

You watched him for a moment, your chest tight with something unspoken.

“…You’re not dumb,” you said finally, your voice quiet. “You’re just bad at pretending you don’t feel things.”

He peeked up at you, eyes soft.

You smiled gently. “It’s kinda… what I like about you.”

You sat down next to him on the bench, a comfortable space between you until Sanji, with absolutely zero hesitation, leaned into you and snuggled his head against your shoulder.

“Mmm.” His voice was muffled in your sweater. “You’re so warm. You smell like the sea and something sweet… like honey. Or cake. Or maybe youre just as sweet.”

You blinked, looking down at the mess of blond hair now nestled into you. You let him rest there, too tired to push him off and maybe not really wanting to. The kitchen was quiet aside from the ticking of the wall clock and the hum of the ship gently rocking with the waves. His body was warm against yours, heavy and content.

After a moment, you murmured, “You okay, Sanji?”

He let out a sigh, his breath hitting your collarbone. “Nope.”

You smiled faintly, resting your head lightly against his. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“…Want more water?”

“Only if you hold it for me like a baby bird.”

You snorted. “Yeah, you’re done.”

Sanji shifted slightly against you, cheek still pressed to your shoulder, but now his fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve tugging, releasing, tugging again. There was a quiet stillness in the kitchen, broken only by the ticking clock and the gentle sway of the ship. “…Hey,” he mumbled, voice thick and unsteady. “Can I ask you something?”

You glanced down at him, smile soft. “Sure.”

He hesitated, then pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. They were a little glassy from the wine, sure, but behind that, you saw something so cute and honest peeking through. He looked almost… scared.

“Do you…” He swallowed. “Do you actually like me? Like this?”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘like this’?”

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, face now red as a tomato. “I mean I know I’m kind of a disaster. I flirt too much, I say dumb stuff, I fall too fast, I… twirl around like an idiot half the time. But when I asked you for advice… I wasn’t ”

He cut himself off with a shaky breath, then turned back to you, expression completely open now, like he was laying his heart on the table next to the crumbs and the empty wine bottle.

“…I was trying to ask how to get you to like me.”

Time stopped. Literally, it felt like the kitchen froze. The air thickened, your heart skipped so hard it hurt, and your brain went completely blank except for one long, internal scream.

“W What?” you breathed.

He winced slightly, clearly mistaking your shock for horror. “I know I’m an idiot. I thought maybe if I asked like it was about someone else, it wouldn’t be so embarrassing. You’re just so amazing. You laugh at my jokes, you call me out when I’m being over the top, and you look at me like I’m… a person. Not a character.”

Your mouth opened and closed uselessly. “Wait. Wait.”

He kept going, barely able to meet your eyes now, fingers nervously twisting the fabric of your sweater. “I thought if I could just be better, maybe you’d see me differently. Maybe you’d want to give me a shot. I didn’t want to mess it up by saying the wrong thing so I thought… maybe you could tell me how to win over a girl like you. B But that’s stupid, right?”

It hit you like a ton of bricks. A ton of bricks wrapped in love letters and wine stained confessions. The girl he’d been talking about… the one he wanted to be better for, the one he asked about so earnestly… it wasn’t some island stranger.

It had been you.

Your breath hitched as your brain scrambled for a coherent thought. Your face burned so hot it might’ve glowed in the dark.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, barely audible. “Sanji.”

He was still looking down, shoulders tense, voice quiet and fragile. “Yeah?”

You swallowed hard. “You… you’re in love with me?”

His face practically exploded in red as he jerked his head back up to look at you, horrified. “I Wh What?! I mean yes?! No I mean dammit oui?! I didn’t mean to say it like that! I meant like not like, love love but maybe like a crush or oh god I’m drunk, ignore me ”

You pressed your hands to your cheeks, laughing way too high pitched, flustered beyond saving.

“Sanji,” you squeaked.

“I was so smooth in my head,” he groaned, burying his face into your shoulder again. “I had speeches and everything. Why did I drink five glasses?!”

You laughed again, covering your face. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Is that a yes idiot or a no idiot?”

You bit your lip, cheeks hot, heart racing as you looked down at the ridiculous, flustered man holding onto your arm like he might float away otherwise.

“…Maybe it’s a yes idiot,” you whispered.

His head whipped up. “What?!”

You smiled shyly. “Maybe I like you too. Just the way you are.”

He blinked. Then blinked again. And then

He passed out in your lap.

“…Unbelievable,” you muttered, flustered and smiling helplessly as you smoothed back his hair. “You really are the dumbest romantic I’ve ever met.”

Sanji: I just wanna eat you up… starting with a little nibble here and maybe a lick there

#vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke #sanji x reader #op sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece x reader #one piece #op #op x reader #xaistories

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threadbearsweater · 6 months ago

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one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redeption 2 x reader #arthur morgan smut #my writing

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