#its more than likely they have something that the islanders can possess

[hummussexual]

📷 What's set as your phone's lockscreen?

I have it set to change every hour.

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

Why would you set two wonderful things against each other? But also, chocolate, if I must choose.

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

Tons

🎵 Last song you listened to?

Phill Collins Another Day In Paradise on repeat

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

Not seriously... not more than a few sentences.

😏 Are you on discord?

No

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

I did... seven. All closed up now.

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

Decency, justice, and kindness.

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

A less sweet version of an Oreo, perhaps? I don't know.

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

Cat person. I really dislike dogs. (#Muslim Things)

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

Each has its time. On a place, over-ears. All other times, earbuds.

🌼 What's the last thing you said out loud?

I was telling someone I was answering this meme to distract myself from the news. I can't work.

🙃 What's a weird fact that you know?

... I can't think right now.

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

Morning.

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

Bed.

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

Yes!

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

Not in the mood to do this. Too dark of a day.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

Neither.

🥤 What's your go-to Starbucks order?

We boycott SB in this house.

🧡 A color you can't stand?

Like a mustard yellow or something drab and dreary. I like bright, fun, rich colors.

💎 What's your most prized possession?

I don't know.

☕ Coffee or tea?

Caffeine-free soda, tbh.

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

How can you make me choose between all those dinosaurs?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

Apparently, a whopping 13 years!

🌴 Desert island item?

Music.

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

Comfy but clean and colorful.

🔮 What's your dream job?

To teach.

💙 Relationship status?

Taken.

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

I don't think I have one.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

Many.

🤎 What color is your hair?

Black/dark brown.

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

All the time.

💄 Do you wear makeup?

I would like to start to, but I don't.

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

Not the best day to think of one of these, tbh.

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[qquackblr]

okay, if the poster for todays event still has implications - the packages for the cubitos have ‘two secret items’ in them. this implies that the minimes have something hidden within them, probably something physical

[darkvolley]

I know it hasn't been confirmed that the gazing eye can only be on a keyblade, but it sure does feel weird that out of all the weapons it's on, only one of them isn't a keyblade(Riku's first sword). Like, that just doesn't feel right somehow.

[ecoterrorist-katara]

Why I feel like Ka/taang is one-sided, despite textual evidence 

ATLA does try to convince us that Katara has romantic feelings for Aang. For example: she seems thoughtful when she realizes that Aang is a powerful bender; she’s offended that he didn’t want to kiss her in the Cave of Two Lovers; she gets jealous when Sokka says On Ji and Aang look good together.

So…what’s wrong with anti-Kataangers? Do we just lack media comprehension? 

To be clear, on their own, these gestures can indicate romantic interest. But at the same time, we have stuff like “Aang is a sweet little guy, like Momo.” We have her ambivalent facial expression after he kisses her before the eclipse, and her hedging during Ember Island Players, and her anger when he kisses her anyway. In the context of these conflicting cues, Katara’s possibly romantic reactions can absolutely be interpreted in a different way, because: 

Acknowledging a friend as a potential romantic interest is not the same as actually being romantically interested in them. (Imo this is something young women struggle with, due to a combination of romance-centrism and heteronormativity that make women feel like they should be in romantic relationships, and that boys and girls who share intimate and deep feelings for one another must be romantically into each other) 

Wanting someone to find you desirable is not the same as desiring that person. (Which is something a lot of women, especially young women, struggle with. Remember all the discourse around Cat Person back in 2017?) 

Being jealous when someone flirts with your friend is not the same as wanting to be with your friend. (Especially when you see your friends as family, or if you’re accustomed to a specific type of devotion from that friend. It is jealousy, and it is possessiveness, but it doesn’t always arise from romantic feelings) 

Growing up in a patriarchal society means that your desires are always filtered through what men want from you, sometimes in an abstract male gaze-y way, and sometimes in a very visceral and interpersonal way when a boy wants you specifically. And Katara’s reactions are just that — reactions. Reactions to what other people — including Aunt Wu, Sokka, Aang himself — have insinuated about her and Aang. She’s not really proactive in her interest in Aang: we don’t really see Aang, romantically, from Katara’s POV. Under the framework of “Katara is reacting to a romantic prospect she’s kind of uncertain about,” it is completely plausible — and indeed likely — that she would sometimes act in ways that indicate romantic interest, in addition to moments where she indicates the opposite. 

Ka/taang shippers often bring up other evidence, like Katara’s despair when Azula hits Aang with lightning, or how protective she is of him when Zuko joins the Gaang. The thing is, these pieces of evidence aren’t necessarily indicative of romantic love. The fact that Katara genuinely loves Aang makes the whole thing more complicated, not less, because — especially at that age, especially when Aang is twelve years old and grew up in a sex-segregated society of monks — it is really difficult to tell the difference between platonic love and romantic love. Their mutual devotion is layered and complex yet straightforward in its sincerity. What was not straightforward, until the last five minutes of the show, is whether this devotion on Katara’s end is romantic. The romantic arc for Katara and Aang is not really an arc, as Sneezy discusses in this classic ZK video. Katara actually becomes more conflicted over time and we never see an event that clarifies her feelings. She seems more interested in him in The Headband than on the Day of the Black Sun, and she has never been more hostile to his romantic overtures than in the penultimate episode. 

And in light of this, it’s pretty easy for fans to fill in the blanks with a different interpretation: maybe Katara’s weird expression after their kiss at the invasion means she didn’t enjoy it; maybe the kiss made her realize that she doesn’t actually feel that way about Aang; maybe against her will and her better judgement, she’s developing feelings for another person, a person who hurt her and whom she fervently tried to hate until he pulled off what is in my opinion the greatest grovel of all time in the form of a life-changing field trip. Maybe. Am I saying that Zutara has more romantic interactions than Ka/taang? Of course not. But ironically, the lack of romantic interactions means that it’s not inherently one-sided, the way Ka/taang became in the latter half of season 3.

I’m not arguing that Katara’s unequivocally not into Aang. Obviously the text declares that she is, because they get married and have kids. But I am saying that there’s a very good reason that so many people, especially women, see Katara’s interest in Aang as ambiguous. It’s not because we can’t pick up “subtle” hints of growing affection. It’s because we know not all affection is romantic, and it’s really easy for someone else’s insistent romantic intentions to muddle what you want.

P.S. I first started thinking about these topics (platonic vs romantic love, desiring someone vs wanting to be desired, etc) in the context of compulsory heterosexuality, a term describing how queer women contort themselves into relationships with men even if they’re not really into men. I saw a post a few days ago joking about why so many queer women seem to be into Zutara. I wonder if part of the reason is because as queer women, we are very sensitive to the ways in which we can talk ourselves into wanting things we don’t actually want, and Katara’s romantic interest in Aang can be easily seen that way. 

[soberpluto]

Examining Neptune's Spell

Apologies for not being here after so much time, but now I'm back and very thrilled to share this with you all! I'm hopeful many can find this helpful.

Unnecesary context aside, just recently I was having a long and deep conversation with a friend of mine about my semi-recurring mini existential crises. After hearing me patiently, with the dear intention of making me realize I was drowning in my tiny glass of water, he simply (and brilliantly) replied:

"I think you're problem is that you have unrealistic expectations about yourself."

Any attempt to blurt out in self-defense ceased instantly because of how deep these words sunk in my mind. I stared into the wall before for me and felt how the missing puzzle piece finally dropped into the perfect spot. Obviously, the thought of having my sun in Cancer and Neptune in almost exact opposition popped inside, and it took a WHOLE new dimmension. How could this statement not be true?! OF COURSE he was right! It's not that I wasn't told that before or haven't read about it multiple times in my astrology studies, but the truth is, (a very Neptunian thing now that I think about it) I didn't believe it quite applied to me. Because I don't like to feel mediocre and because I think of myself as a spiritual and highly self-aware woman, I was convinced that holding myself to "unrealistic standards" was definitely NOT the reason that triggered me to want fleed to a desert islands at times when reality felt like too much. It was bitterly humorous when I realized I evidently missed the fact that Neptune was making a hell of a job doing what he does best: casting its spells of illusion and glittery distorted beliefs about how things were "supposed to be" in a surprisingly unadverted way into my life. I was truly relieved to actually understand (or accept, better said) why trying to have a simple and happy life seemed too tricky at times. It all made sense.

Now, let me introduce Neptune, if you happen to be unacquainted.

Neptune in astrology is like the ultimate dream weaver, spinning a web of intuition, imagination, and mystery. It’s the planet of all things ethereal, where reality gets a little blurry, and you’re invited to dive into the deep end of fantasy, spirituality, and idealism. Neptune whispers, "What if?" and suddenly, we're seeing the world through a kaleidoscope of possibilities, but a "little" foggy on the details. We're all influenced by Neptune one way or another, but when it touches personal planets or points in our charts, it’s like life hands us a pair of customized rose-colored glasses, but the prescription is way off. Suddenly, everything feels a bit magical, like we're starring in your own fairytale, except the castle is made of mist, the prince might just be a mirage, and that enchanted forest? It’s actually a parking lot.

But why bother making us feel loony? On a more serious note, our master illusionist possesses the higher purpose of awakening our connection to something greater than the everyday grind. It gently pulls us out of the rigid boundaries of reality and whispers, "There’s more to life than meets the eye." It invites us to explore the depths of our imagination, spirituality, and compassion, blurring the lines between self and universe. The illusions it creates are really a nudge to dissolve our ego’s grip, helping us see beyond the material and embrace a higher sense of love, creativity, and unity with the cosmos.

As inspiring and touching as it sounds, the catch is that fulfilling Neptune’s mission can feel like chasing fog—just when we think we’ve got a handle on it, it slips through our fingers. Neptune wants us to transcend reality and connect with the divine, but let’s be real: that’s not exactly a day-to-day, grocery-list-friendly goal. For someone with heavy Neptune influence, this pursuit of higher meaning can be disorienting, leaving them feeling lost in a sea of "what ifs" and "maybes." And thanks to its grandeur idealism, it can push people to be hypersensitive, highly fearful of failure and completely inaccurate with what they may achieve in a day, let alone a lifetime!

For a Neptunian, the intuitive desire to be flawless and sufficient does not come from wordly expectations, but from a place of soulful calling that more often unconsciously than consciously tells them they're limitless beings living in a limited reality. And this is exactly the greatest challenge of all: to accept that the truth must be known while respecting the illusion, just as a spiritual teacher Michael Mirdad states.

That said, you can imagine what happens when mystical and whimsical Neptune gets cozy with your personal planets. Let's see in detail how it sprinkles its glitter them:

Sun

Soft Aspects: With soft aspects, your Sun is shining brighter than ever! Neptune sprinkles fairy dust on your creativity and confidence, making you feel like a superstar in your own musical. It’s all about embracing your spiritual side and believing that you can conquer the world—cape optional!

Hard Aspects: You’re the artist of your own identity, but the canvas keeps shifting. One day you’re an astronaut, the next day you’re a poet, and by the end of the week, you’re contemplating becoming a full-time mystic. Neptune tells you, "Be everything," but sometimes that just leaves you wondering, "Who am I, really?"

Moon

Soft Aspects: Your emotions flow like a gentle river, and you’re tuned in to everyone’s feelings like a super empath (you could be a cool wizard/witch or clairvoyant!). Neptune wraps you in a cozy blanket of intuition, making heartfelt connections feel like a warm hug from the universe. Cue the happy tears!

Hard Aspects: Enter the emotional whirlpool! Neptune can stir up your feelings like a cosmic blender, leading to mood swings and a general sense of overwhelm. You might find yourself daydreaming your way through real-life emotions, and good luck figuring out what you actually feel!

Mercury

Soft Aspects: With Neptune’s gentle nudge, your thoughts become a beautiful symphony! Communication flows like honey, and you’re bursting with creative ideas. It’s a fantastic time for writing, brainstorming, or chatting about all things magical and dreamy! You could be a music lover, a great singer or a romantic poet.

Hard Aspects: But when Neptune goes rogue, it’s like trying to read a recipe in a funhouse—everything’s upside down! Your thoughts get scattered, and communication feels like a game of telephone gone wrong. Get ready for misunderstandings and the occasional “Wait, what did you just say?” This aspect looks very similar to a Piscean or Sagittarian Mercury, a common link to ADHD.

Venus

Soft Aspects: Love is in the air! Neptune turns your romantic life into a whimsical fairy tale, where everything feels enchanting. Your heart opens wide, and connections deepen, making even the smallest moments feel like a scene from a rom-com.

Hard Aspects: But hold on! Neptune might have you wearing those rose-colored glasses a bit too tightly. You might find yourself idealizing partners or being swept away by fantasies, only to crash back to reality when things don’t match your dreamy expectations. Ouch!

Mars

Soft Aspects: With Neptune in your corner, your drive becomes a creative spark! You’re ready to take action with a burst of inspiration, making you feel like a superhero on a mission. Time to tackle those goals with flair and imagination!

Hard Aspects: When Neptune throws in a twist, it’s like trying to run through quicksand. Your motivation might wane, leaving you confused about where to focus your energy. It’s a cosmic case of “I had a plan… what was it again?”

To wrap it up after such long post, living with Neptune’s influence means you’ve got a backstage pass to the land of dreams, creativity, and big feelings. But it also means you might find yourself getting tangled up in illusions, setting sky-high standards that real life simply can’t meet. So when Neptune touches your personal planets, just remember: it's okay to dream big, but keep a little reality check in your back pocket. You can chase those rainbows, but don’t forget to pack an umbrella for when they dissolve into rain.

Thanks so much for reading, love you! 🥰

Written by @soberpluto

[justmediocrewriting]

“You’re not that dumb, are you?” {v.s}

Summary: Sanji seriously can’t figure what it is he had done to offend you or make you dislike him, but he’s sure he had to of done something; you avoid him like the plague, and if Sanji doesn’t figure out why soon, he’s going to spontaneously combust right there in the galley.

Or: the one in which Sanji is completely oblivious to the crush you have on him, until he isn’t.

Genre: fluff

Requested: ❌

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Warnings: reader is afab, she/her pronouns, use of (y/n)

A/n: so this cute little idea was tickling in the back of my head because i have this headcanon that even though Sanji is the worlds biggest flirt and a major lover of women, he genuinely can not tell when a woman actually has a crush on him, and thus this was born lol. I hope you all enjoy! And don’t forget to leave a like if you did, and don’t be shy to send in a req if you like the way I write! ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been occurring for weeks, and if he were being honest, Sanji truly felt as if he were going absolutely crazy.

Sanji was not a perfect human being; he knew this, and he was all too aware of his own flaws — but he didn’t believe he was a bad person. On the contrary, he felt he was more likable than he was dislikable, and the crew for the most part seemed to share his same opinion.

Except for you.

Sanji didn’t know what it was about him that bothered you, but there had to be something there, considering the fact that you went out of your way to ensure you would never end up in a position in which you were to be alone with him, and whenever he was around, you avoided his eyes, and his attempts at conversation were generally ignored — it was quite irksome, and the smug little smirks Zoro sent his way any time it happened definitely didn’t help.

At first, Sanji thought perhaps it wasn’t him, but you. Upon first meeting he noticed the rather shy disposition you possessed, so in the beginning, Sanji just chalked your avoidance of him up to nervousness and the need to settle in. But as time went on, Sanji observed you — Sanji was always observing, mentally clocking the conditions and stability of his crewmates — and his gut twisted when he noticed you growing warmer to every other crewmate except him; you even seemed to be comfortable with Zoro, now.

Sanji tried his best to not let this fact affect him, and he instead tried to compartmentalize and break down the reasons as to why before automatically jumping to any unpleasant conclusions; perhaps you had warmed up to the others faster simply due to exposure. When Sanji had landed on that particular conclusion, he decided the best course of action to take would be to ease into a closer bond with you.

His attempt at that had quickly gone awry; the ship had docked at a small island, one fairly well known for its bountiful fruit and vegetable harvests, and Sanji was set on making a list of the crew’s current food stores, but when he’d entered the galley and noticed you — just you, without Usopp or Nami flanking you as he’d grown accustomed to seeing — his initial task had been swept away to be replaced by another.

You hadn’t yet noticed his presence, as your nose was pointed down and buried in a rather thick looking book, one hand wrapped delicately around a mug resting on the hanging table, and Sanji couldn’t refrain from taking the chance to really look at you.

Your hair was pulled up into a messy bun atop your head, a few stray locks falling from the hold of your hair tie and framing the delicate features of your face, and Sanji’s heart stuttered in his chest at the way your soft lips mouthed the words of the book as you read. Sanji knew you were attractive, had thought so since the first time he’d laid eyes on you, but with your near constant avoidance of him, it was difficult for him to be able to take any time to map your features; and Sanji was feeling eternally grateful that he was given the opportunity, and part of him didn’t want to announce his presence, because he had the sinking feeling that once you noticed him, you’d be flying out of the galley at mach ten.

But that was also another problem that Sanji was dead set on rectifying, so he pushed away any unpleasant feelings and decided to announce his presence in a way that wasn’t overly shocking — but he had underestimated your level of skittishness, and the moment in which he decided to clear his throat was the exact same moment in which you’d decided to take a sip from your mug, with which held steaming liquid within.

The instant the sound left his throat you jumped, your head snapped up and you lost your grip on the mug — leading it to falling into your lap, the contents spilling over your front and your thighs. Sanji’s heart froze inside his chest as a loud hiss escaped your lips and you slammed your knee into the bottom of the table in a frenzied scramble. Your beautiful face contorted into an expression of pain, and before Sanji could even think twice about it his body was moving, propelling him to your side in an instant.

“I’m so sorry, love, are you okay?” Sanji pushed out, hand flashing forward to grab your arm and pull it gently out of the way so he could examine the damage. Sanji winced as he noticed your legs were bare, the skin at the top an ugly shade of irritated red, and worry lanced through his gut. Tugging on your arm gently, Sanji coaxed you out of your seat.

“Come on, let’s get to the sink. We need to cool the skin before it scalds.” Sanji would have been surprised when you quietly let him lead you from the table to the counter if it weren’t for the sheer panic he was feeling. Twisting the cold tap hurriedly Sanji ripped the towel from the cabinet handle just below the sink and shoved it beneath the stream, thoroughly wetting it then ringing it out slightly before moving to place it against the burns —

Sanji nearly winced at the resounding slap that split through the galley when you smacked his hand away. Without much to offer in explanation you ripped the wet towel away from his hand and it suddenly dawned on him — he was about to place his hand in a spot that was highly inappropriate, even if the intentions were caring in nature. Sanji flushed and despite the situation, his eyes roved over your plush thighs in a way that was starkly opposite than checking damage. Feeling utterly disappointed in himself, Sanji parted his lips to apologize, but you beat him to it.

“Ah, I’m sorry.” You said softy, avoiding his eyes. “T-thanks, Sanji, but I’ve got it from here.”

Sanji barely had the time to register your words (he was still frozen from the absolute beauty that was your voice speaking directly to him, saying his name) before you were scurrying away, water dripping a small path from the sink to the door out of the galley.

{{================================}}

Days had passed since the incident in the galley, and you hadn’t uttered a word to Sanji since — you didn’t even really look in his direction, and when he’d come to return your book to you and ask how you were doing, you only gave him one seldom nod and then snatched your book away before slamming the door in his face.

Only this time, Sanji couldn’t really blame you.

Of course, there was no way you could have known of the brief indecency he’d given you, but the fact that he’d startled you enough to cause you to burn yourself was enough of a reason to be angry at him, in his opinion — but his understanding of the situation didn’t make it any less irritating.

Only now, he was irritated for a different reason.

Sanji felt as though hearing his name on your lips was like taking a hit of a strong drug; ever since he had experienced it, he just wanted more. Sanji wanted to hear you speak to him, not just around him; he wanted you to converse with him, to tell him all the things that you’d already told everyone else about yourself, and, selfishly, he wanted you to tell him more — to tell him things that you’d never revealed to anyone, not even Usopp or Nami.

Sanji wanted to look into your eyes and commit them to memory, so that he could see the vibrancy of them even when he closed his own. He wanted to watch the way your lips formed words, and he wanted to hear that delicate laugh bubble from your throat because of him — and that was the crutch of it all.

Sanji wanted all of this for himself.

He wanted all of it because of himself.

And Sanji knew it was selfish, knew it was immature, because he also knew why he wanted all of this; it was because he had been deprived of it for so long.

And wasn’t that such a childish way to look at it?

Sanji couldn’t help but compare himself to a toddler being jealous of another’s toy — any time he watched you swapping words and laughs with someone else, even Nami, Sanji would feel envy bubbling beneath his skin, scratching his brain to try and figure out why you’d felt him undeserving of your time and attention. It sounded truly vain, if he was being honest.

But Sanji just couldn’t help it.

Something about you was drawing him in, making him itch for more, for anything, even the smallest morsel of attention or acknowledgement.

Sanji just needed to talk to you, or something. Get to the bottom of whatever it was — maybe if you could both put it to bed, these annoying desires would fade away.

“That fish personally insult you, or something?”

Sanji’s head snapped up at the sound of Nami’s voice, lips opening but no words slipping past them.

Nami rolled her eyes and gestured to the still intact fish resting on the cutting board. “You’ve just been glaring at it.”

Sanji’s eyes widened and his cheeks felt warm. He hadn’t even realized he had been so distracted that he hadn’t begun his lunch preparations. Recovering, Sanji sent Nami a small smile and quickly grasped the cutting knife to start in on the beheading and skinning. From his periphery he noticed Nami giving him a strange stare, and he was more than prepared for it when she asked him if he was okay.

“I’m fine, love, don’t worry about me.”

Nami scoffed as if she didn’t believe him but to his relief she didn’t pester; instead she thunked her ink pen once on the table before repositioning it to draw on her chart once more — Sanji wasn’t sure how he could explain what was distracting him without it coming off as too accusatory or abrasive.

But hell if he wouldn’t try.

“Say, you’re pretty close with (Y/N).” Sanji started, not looking up from his handiwork. He heard more than saw Nami lean back against the couch, and he could only picture that she had her arms crossed over her ribs.

“I am, I suppose. Why?”

Sanji bit his lip in thought, wondering if he should just drop the whole conversation before he could take it to the point of no return, but he needed to know; he needed to understand what it was he’d done or said to make you hate him. And if you’d told anyone why, he imagined it would be Nami.

“It’s just… does she hate me, or somethin’?”

Now Sanji couldn’t refrain from looking at Nami, bashfulness be damned. He needed to see Nami’s eyes, so that he could know if whatever her response was would be genuine. What he didn’t expect, though, was for Nami’s eyes to widen comically, nor did he expect her to double over with laughter. It took a few seconds for her to catch her breath, and when she did, she gave him the most vibrant, teasing smile he’d ever seen grace her face. Sanji would be stunned by the beauty of it if he wasn’t so confused by her reaction.

“You’re not that dumb, are you?”

Sanji thought himself akin to a fish when all he could do was flap his lips at her wordlessly, brows furrowing to the point he worried they might stick. Sanji didn’t know what to say to that; was Nami being rhetorical or serious?

“Look, Sanji, she doesn’t hate you.” Nami finally recessed, but the mirthful amusement was still evident in her tone. Sanji wet his bottom lip, relief warring with confusion in the pit of his mind.

“But she avoids me. She won’t even look at me.”

“She looks at you a lot. You just don’t see it.”

Sanji was once again rendered speechless — a part of him wondered if Nami was simply pulling his leg, or if she knew something he didn’t; something she clearly thought should be obvious, if the look on her face was anything to go by.

Nami heaved a great sigh and gathered up her chart and pens, along with her other various navigation gear, and tucked it into her rucksack before rising from the couch. Resting her hands against the counter she leaned forward, the tease in her eyes making Sanji do the same, not even noticing when the tip of his tie grazed the slimy flesh of the fish.

“For a ladies man, you sure don’t know much about them. You should remember that there’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.” Nami whispered, and with barely a glance back she breezed swiftly from the galley, leaving Sanji more confused and fuddled than ever before.

{{================================}}

For the rest of the evening, Sanji continued to toss and turn Nami’s words around in his head; but no matter how much he picked and pulled at them, dissected them and put them back together, he just couldn’t figure it out.

Surely Nami didn’t mean for her words to be as cryptic as they were. Nami wasn’t one to be cryptic; she was blunt and upfront, and unashamed or frightened to speak her mind — it was one of the many traits that Sanji admired in her.

Throughout your time with the crew, Sanji noticed that you were similar to Nami in that respect — you weren’t afraid to put in your own input on certain situations or decisions, and most of the time, your input was quite enlightening and helpful. You also weren’t scared to fight for your own beliefs, even if it meant engaging in a verbal altercation with one of your friends. Outspoken and vibrant with pretty much everyone on the crew, you were, and it was something Sanji found very attractive and annoying at the same time — because you weren’t nearly that strong around him, had never gotten in an altercation with him, choosing instead to avoid him.

Nami said you didn’t hate him — but why else would you avoid him, avoid eye contact, refuse to be alone with him? Why else would your face flush any time you met his eyes accidentally? Why else would you stare at him in secret instead of approaching him?

Sanji promptly dropped the whisk into the bowl of pancake batter, because oh —

Oh.

There’s more than one reason that a person may avoid another.

Oh. Shit.

The blushing, the avoiding, the staring in secret… it wasn’t because you hated him — it was because you liked him.

A smile broke on Sanji’s lips and he pulled the whisk out delicately with the tips of his fingers, a warm, fluttery feeling erupting in his chest.

Sanji would have to thank Nami later.

[multifandomslxt]

Hey Krystal! 💎 It's me again 😌

Hope you've been well. 🥰

WayV members as type of rich bfs (sugar daddies) 👀..... Anything and everything within this prompt is most welcome 🤭. Have a great day bye ❤

Hey sweetheart! how are you?

You scared me again with the name ngl lmaoo

but it's all good

ENJOY<333

Way V Members as Sugar Daddies

MDNI

MINORS GO AWAY

Kun

He's a bit hard to get through to at first IMO

When he says sugar daddy he means money in exchange for accompanying him to events

he's so strict with himself that he really doesn't allow it to get past that.

That's all it is for a few months yk?

until you express that it seems a bit weird because you were definitely expecting more...

And Kun like the damn provider he is

gives you just that...more

but definitely explains to you that he's a possessive little shit.

good pu$$y turns a perfectly sane man in to a mad man pt.1

he's mad asf for youuuu

now that s3x is involved this man SPOILSSSSSSS you

way more than he was doing prior

which seems a bit impossible because babyyy you were getting bagsssss

he's so strict too like he makes it clear that you belong to him

period.

istg at some point he graduates from sugar daddy to husband

you want a spontaneous trip to some crazy rich island? ok, no problem

you want a bag that costs way too much money? he'll get you that in the next 2 hours

also...don't let that cute smile fool you, the man is a menace.

"Can't believe I deprived myself of this pretty c*nt" he thrusts inside you so slow...dangerously slow

"That's right baby Daddy's right here to give you everything you need"

Ten

Maam.

he gets right to it. lmaooo

Tells you that he needs you to accompany him to events and asks you if you're ok with other "stuff"

duhhh

first off the chemistry between y'all is AMAZINGGG

We all know this man loves fashion so having the latest designer pieces is a given

what starts off as a lil service after events

blooms into something more

very protective of you

baby he doesn't play about you or the custom diamonds he put around your neck. TRUST!

compared to before the relationship bloomed the s3x between you two was rather respectful?...yh that's the word

now?

LMAOOOOO

he rips that shit off youuu

President of the "I'll just buy you a new one" club

it's rough btw unlike Kun, Ten is rough and occasionally enjoys it when you're on top

hehe

"fuck...I'd choose this pu$$y over diamonds any day"

Winwin

See how pretty this man is?

yeah he's gonna make sure you're even prettier than him

Literally bathes you in expensive shit.

SPOILLS you omggg

it's worrying sometimes

to the point where the bank calls him

asking if he's aware that there is a concerning amount of money leaving his account

From head to toe it's luxuryyyyy

the s3x is good....just good

I'm sure I've said this before but Winiwn strikes me as someone who just gets to it.

not too rough not too gentle yk?

its just right

he does like when you wear that little diamond collar he got you when he's ball deep inside you though

he's strictly sugar daddy btw

I think he'd prefer that

Xiaojun

if you manage to pull him and keep him you're one lucky mf

this man moves through sugar babies like the days of the week

He likes the thrill of it all imo

yes he'll spoil you

but you better make sure the pleasure you give him is worth the 100k he just splurged

"C'mon now princess, Daddy knows you can do way better than that" he whispers teasingly as your body trembles from exhaustion and overstimulation

he likes to be kept on his toes

and you keep surprising him

your bills are paid and you're getting f*cked dumb

and he has the prettiest girl to spoil and break

It's a win-win honestly

Hendery

he's so sweet at first omlll

yes he dotes on you and all that jazz

but you guys actually become friends yk?

he's a whole gentleman

never crossing the line

just kind and attentive

gets you WHATEVER you want

and mean ANYTHING

nothing is out of reach for his baby

he just expects you to behave

but what's the fun in that?

let him catch you trying to buy things with your own money

or some shit like that

you are DONEE

when he f*cks you

he ensures that you merge with the mattress

takes "fuck you into the mattress" literally

ass up face down supremacy

do not play with him like that.

"Move your hand baby, I told you actions have consequences"

Yang Yang

This mf is just horny

lmaooo

very possessive oml

and not in the mature way like Kun or the gentlemanly way like Hendery

but possessive like a damn child

you go to parties together and he doesn't want you talking for anybody else too long

look at him and only him

the fucker got you a carrier bracelet with his name embedded into it

and told you to wear it at all times

for the most part, he's harmless

extremely touchy-feely

controls his urges well though

unless you're fucking around too much

then he has to show you why you should just let him be

it's fast and hard

I'm so serious

This MF can go roundsss

because he's desperate asf

BABY TRAPPING CENTRAL

"Such a fuckin' tease. let's see how much teasing you'll do when I swell you up hm?"

[yanderes-galore]

So, I cannot stop thinking about this. Petlike yandere Red Death, but raised from an egg. Perhaps reader is a dragon rider, who was exploring the volcano post HTTYD1, since I can't imagine Red Deaths are anything but rare. Thank you very much!

Yeah, this was my take on baby Red Death! I apologize for weird formatting.

Yandere! Red Death raised by Viking! Darling

Pairing: Animal/Pet-like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective behavior, Territorial behavior, Possessive behavior, Alpha dragon, Isolation, Violence, Generational yandere concept, Not entirely yandere/overprotective, I had thoughts with this, Forced companionship.

There was only one known appearance of a Red Death in the series.

It's said they live 2,000 years and lay 3,000 eggs before they die.

It's unknown if the last Red Death ever laid eggs, considering how we never see another Red Death, we can assume it didn't.

However, for the sake of this concept, let's say one egg manages to survive on Dragon Island.

As a dragon rider you had decided to do an expedition on Dragon Island and found the volcanic egg.

As an experiment you were probably instructed by Hiccup to carry the large egg to a secure location.

After all, not much is known about The Red Death.

This would be the perfect opportunity to research the new dragon type that's only been encountered once.

The egg is no doubt kept near a volcanic region but you are sent to oversee its development.

Being picked for such a task is no doubt exciting at first.

Something about this concept to note is the fact your Red Death won't be fully mature.

It may even take your full lifetime before your Red Death even hits what could be considered a teen.

The baby dragon will get big, sure, but not as big as its mother.

I imagine when you have it the size is only going to be about a medium size dragon.

So it will be rideable, but unable to reproduce or use its full abilities.

When you raise the dragon you are careful to note behavior and diet.

You feed your Red Death red meat and keep them in a hot area.

You have them visit volcanic areas for lava baths.

You are quick to note down everything you learn about the dragon while caring for them.

You even grow attached to them, while they attach themselves to you.

Admittedly it's hard to take notes when your Red Death, the size of maybe a large dog at the start, keeps nuzzling into you.

Red Death's can be a ruthless and controlling species, but a baby doesn't have the ability to control dragons yet.

They'd be demanding and needy, like little divas.

But they aren't capable of full control yet.

You are sure to report all your findings to Hiccup as you care for your Red Death.

While they are still small you simply watch and feed them while researching.

When they are a size where you can ride them you work on teaching them how to fly and carry you.

The dragon is certainly not agile, they're more tanky than anything.

Your Red Death is a brute due to their body type and personality.

Also, wouldn't it be problematic if they learned to control dragons once riding age.

Unbeknownst to you, your Red Death is a dragon that will be taken care of for generations.

You know how you have to put a tortoise or parrot in your will due to their lifespan?

Same thing would happen with you Red Death due to their ridiculous lifespan.

Imagine if they became yandere for your entire bloodline?

They just know your children and their children are related to you, so they defend them.

It may all be fun and games researching your Red Death now, but the truth is you're stuck with them.

They see you as their parent and treat you like family.

So while you can ride them now, soon they'll continue growing.

When you leave this world, they'll still be here.

They may even stumble their way to your grave and sit there.

I feel this Red Death is more caring due to being raised by a human.

Some Vikings are till wary about you as they know tales of the original Red Death.

Even more so when your dragon starts exhibiting alpha behavior.

Yup, you heard me, Red Deaths are similar to Bewilderbeasts since they both act like dragon leaders.

They can command dragons, hold territory, have a sense of authority... etc.

So you run into some problems when your dragon starts roaring to command smaller dragons and claims territory,

They're still affectionate towards you but are expressing dominating behavior.

They even summon smaller dragons to protect you.

Think of this, as you fly on them they usually have some sort of dragon flock around you both.

With their methane breath type they can cause flash fires in an instant.

Your Red Death may move you from your home when they start nesting.

You would be forced to live in a more volcanic area so your Red Death can nest in the crater.

Although, that sounds like a future generation problem.

Your kids/grandkids would have to deal with that.

I actually think the idea of a generational protective dragon is interesting.

Your kids and so on are simply told they have a draconic protector, your Red Death.

As a result, this dragon will defend them with their life.

A protective Red Death is no joke either.

They're capable of swallowing dragons whole when they hit a certain age, which is actually their main food source other than whole sheep and other creatures.

So you are stuck with this dragon right up until you die.

While your Red Death is behaved now, it's mostly because they are young.

They're overprotective and sometimes possessive, but not quite an uncontrolled problem yet.

You think it's cute.

Although other Vikings can see the issue before you can.

You have no idea what you've done, have you?

When they grow older, your kids will suffer the consequences of your actions.

Your Red Death loves you and wants to protect the family you build with them...

Even after death, your Red Death fulfills such a wish... at the cost of those around it.

[discordiansamba]

thought too hard about an offhand comment I made in one of my other posts (as I am wont to do). local fire prince stumbles upon the bones of a dragon while exploring ember island by himself and gets possessed/cursed by it's vengeful spirit.

the servants that ursa sent find the prince collapsed in the middle of the forest. he has a high fever for days that leaves doctors baffled. one morning, they wake up to find that the fever has broken, but the prince is very much not himself. he growls and spits fire at anyone who gets close, acting more like a wary and aggressive animal than he does a human. his body has been warped, gaining features that can only be called draconic.

ursa calls upon the fire sages, and they all tell her that the prince has been cursed. he houses the soul of a dragon within his body now, and it has consumed him. ozai tries to have him killed, but ursa pleads with him and asks him to spare his life. he agrees... on a condition.

(fire lord azulon dies. ozai ascends to the throne.)

iroh returns, having received a disturbing letter from ursa. they have been keeping zuko locked in his room at the ember island villa, at a loss as to what else to do with him. he attacks anyone who gets near, but iroh bravely approaches him regardless. for the first time in months, zuko displays something close to recognition and iroh knows that not all hope is lost. his nephew is buried by the overwhelming anger of the dragon's spirit, but he is not lost.

he takes up residence at their ember island villa, slowly and steadily coaxing his nephew out of the dragon. with iroh's help, zuko gradually regains his senses- though the damage to his body has been done and is irreversible. he slowly learns how to live a mutual existence with the dragon that inhabits his body, and the dragon learns from zuko in turn.

(the first time the dragon speaks to him, iroh is surprised- but perhaps he should not be.)

iroh would like to take his nephew to see the masters, but he knows that he cannot do it under ozai's watchful eye. zuko is forbidden to leave the ember island villa, though he is free to roam its grounds as he pleases. iroh personally hires the most discreet staff he can find. the fire nation is lead to believe that their prince has taken ill, and azula takes his place as ozai's heir.

zuko chafes at his imprisonment. he and the dragon have achieved an understanding, but it is still so angry- and so is zuko. then one day, his father pays him a visit and makes him an offer. the avatar has returned. if he captures him, he will give zuko his freedom, if not his throne.

zuko and the dragon agree.

[novaursa]

I can’t get this idea out of my head and thought you’d be the right person to come to 😅I have this idea of reader being a targ/velaryon with a dragon. She is betrothed to a lord/prince/king who she has fallen in love with, but she is betrayed by them. maybe they wanted to steal readers dragon for themselves and only pretended to love them to gain the advantage of having a dragon.

I’ll let you decide how the ending is, if reader goes full on mad Targaryen or sorts it another way

Fire and Salt

- Summary: Euron pays the price of fire for his ambitions.

- Paring: targ!reader/Euron Greyjoy

- Note: The reader is the twin sister of Daenerys, and is bonded with Rhaegel.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I had to switch this to ASOIAF universe, because this man is only one I can think of who would play with his life like that. 🤣

The marriage had been a spectacle of fire and shadow, a union born of necessity and ambition. The Iron Islands’ winds, sharp and cold, whipped against your face as you stood beside Euron Greyjoy on the deck of the Silence. The sea roared beneath you, and in the distance, your dragon, Rhaegal, circled the skies, a green shadow against the storm-darkened clouds. You glanced at Euron, his smile like a blade glinting in the sun, his hand tightening around yours in a possessive grip.

“Your sister is pleased, I hope,” he murmured, his voice a purr of satisfaction. “Our marriage seals her alliance with the Ironborn. And I gain the most beautiful dragon rider in the world.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me, my wife, do you find our arrangement to your liking?”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. There was something wild in his eyes, a madness that both repelled and fascinated you. “The arrangement suits Daenerys,” you replied, your voice steady. “And it suits me well enough.”

Euron chuckled, his fingers brushing the hilt of his axe as if testing its edge. “Well enough?” he echoed, his grin widening. “I think I can do better than that.” He gestured expansively to the Ironborn gathered below, their cheers a cacophony of loyalty and ferocity. “See, my love, they scream your name now as they scream mine. We are one, you and I. Rhaegal is mine as much as he is yours.”

Your dragon’s roar split the sky, and the cheers of the Ironborn faltered, their faces turning upward with awe and fear. You felt the heat of Rhaegal’s presence, the bond between you thrumming like a living thing. He was yours, and only yours, despite Euron’s delusions.

“You will never command him,” you said softly, a warning threaded through your words. “Rhaegal answers to no one but me.”

Euron’s eyes narrowed, the charm in his expression hardening to something more dangerous. “We shall see,” he said, his voice low and cold. “We shall see.”

The days that followed were filled with uneasy peace. You played your part as the dutiful wife, attending to your duties, speaking with the captains, and even sharing Euron’s bed. He was a tempest, a force of nature, and while you despised his arrogance and cruelty, there was something else there, something darker and more complex. You found yourself drawn to him, to the storm that raged within him.

But Euron had his own plans. You sensed it in his whispers to his priests, in the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought you weren’t watching. And then, one night, it happened.

He called you to the deck, the moon high and full above the sea, the air thick with salt and the promise of violence. The crew watched in silence as Euron stood beside the massive iron chains that held Rhaegal, your dragon’s bronze eyes glowing like distant stars in the dark.

“I have gifts, my love,” Euron announced, his voice carrying across the ship. “Gifts for you and for your dragon.” He gestured to the men at his side, who dragged forward a writhing, terrified figure. A priest of the Drowned God, his face twisted in fear and pain.

You stepped forward, your heart pounding. “Euron, what are you doing?”

“Making a bond, Y/N,” he said, his voice almost gentle. “Between myself and your beast. Blood magic, they say. The blood of a priest, the blood of the sea. It will bind Rhaegal to me, and to us.”

Rhaegal growled, his teeth bared, smoke curling from his nostrils. You felt his rage, his defiance. He was not some beast to be tamed. He was fire and fury, and he was yours.

“Stop this madness,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “You will die if you try.”

Euron laughed, a wild, reckless sound. “Die? No, my love. I will become a god.”

He raised the axe, and the priest screamed. But before he could strike, Rhaegal lunged forward, breaking the chains as if they were threads of silk. His jaws closed around Euron’s arm, and the Ironborn lord cried out in shock and pain.

“Mercy!” he screamed, his face twisted in agony as Rhaegal’s teeth sank deeper, tearing through flesh and bone. “Mercy, Y/N, please!”

You stood still, your heart a stone in your chest. This man had sought to use you, to control you and your dragon. He had thought he could bind fire to his will, that he could take what was yours.

Rhaegal’s orange-yellow flames erupted, engulfing Euron in a blazing inferno. His screams echoed across the sea, and the Ironborn watched in horrified silence as their king burned. You watched, your face impassive, as the flames consumed him, as his body crumbled to ash.

When the fire died, there was nothing left of Euron Greyjoy but a blackened smear on the deck. The crew stared at you, their eyes wide with fear and awe. You turned to Rhaegal, your hand resting gently on his scaled neck. He rumbled, his breath hot against your skin, and you felt his anger recede, replaced by a fierce, unbreakable bond.

“Burn it all,” you commanded softly, your voice carrying in the stillness. “Burn the Silence. Burn every ship.”

Rhaegal roared, his wings spreading wide as he took to the sky. His flames rained down upon the fleet, yellow fire licking across the decks, devouring sails and masts. The screams of the Ironborn rose as the ships burned, the sea boiling with heat and fury.

You watched from the deck of the Silence, your face lit by the flames. This was the end of Euron Greyjoy’s ambitions, the end of his dreams of conquest and power. He had tried to bind you, to use you, and he had paid the price.

When the last ship sank beneath the waves, the fire hissing as it met the water, you turned away. Rhaegal descended, landing beside you with a thud that shook the deck. You mounted him, your hand resting on his neck as he spread his wings.

“Fly,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the roar of the flames. “Take us home.”

Rhaegal launched into the air, the wind whipping around you as you rose above the burning fleet, above the wreckage of Euron’s ambitions. Below, the sea churned, the flames reflecting in its dark depths like a vision of hell.

You looked back once, at the ruins of the Ironborn fleet, at the shattered dreams of the man who had thought he could control you. And then you turned your gaze forward, to the horizon, to the future that awaited you.

You had come for power, for vengeance, and for love. You had found one, tasted another, and destroyed the last. But you were a Targaryen, and you would not be used. Not by Euron, not by anyone.

The sea stretched out before you, vast and unending, and you felt a thrill of freedom, of power, as Rhaegal soared higher, his wings beating against the sky.

You were fire, and blood, and vengeance. And the world would know your name.

[alienpossession]

Mode of Infiltration: Shower

NASA and the other space scientist weren't too far off when they predicted that the highest possible form of an alien would be something small or even in liquid-form. Lucky for those extraterrestrial creature, Earth consisted of around +70% water, ensuring their ability to infiltrate human society stealthily

But won't you realize that sudden change of texture or even temperature when you mind your own business under the shower head and instead of drops of water hitting your body, something slimy instead slid all over your body. Osman here realized it when his post-shower gym suddenly turned into a nightmarish situation as he felt something slimy trickled down his body.

He dashed out from his shower in shock as he witnessed the slimes coagulated into bigger form within the shower stall. But before he can try to run outside his bathroom and warn his wife, his sons and his younger brother, the numbing component of the slime caused him to stuck as he found himself unable to move a single muscle in his body. Before long, the slimes that coagulated in his shower made their travel upward the ridges and peaks of Osman's body before sliding in comfortably into his brain, where they then take control of his body

Kevin experienced the same fate hundreds of miles away in the sunny Ibiza. He just wanted a peaceful shower, but then the weird goopy "splat" sound surprised him. He thought a bird dropped its poop or something since the shower stall in this particular beach has no sun shade or anything. But he found nothing with his naked eyes. If only he focused a little, he might found the translucent alien that already pooled in the shower floor.

When Kevin left the stall, it was no longer Kevin in control of his own body as the alien managed to repress his consciousness and begin his exploration of the party-heavy island.

Luis also no longer in control of his body when he kissed the love of his life, Justin. But, Justin have no clue about it. Plus, the alien that controlled Luis split a little part of itself to enter Justin. As both men kissed, the alien that blended smoothly with Luis' saliva managed to startled Justin who then quickly taken over by that small alien part. They went on for more kisses afterwards as Luis practically pumped Justin with extraterrestial sentient.

And again, this is not just simply about shower shower. You can be possessed even in chlorinated pool water without you ever realized as the see-through, water-like alien shot itself into your brain by sliding itself into the not-so-tight-fitting swimming shorts you wore.

But in some random cases, even being showered with affection might be the cause of people's downfall as certain liquid alien managed to sort themselves inside fancy wine upon landing. Not a single soul would even be able to realize that his supposed friend didn't just spray him with champagne, it's an alien sentient that marged itself with one of human's favorite drink, and they did it successfully.

His friend, his teammates, are not necessarily what they looked like as they got taken over earlier than him. But it's not just the team getting affected, business partners and media crews that gathered to witness and document them after their historic win also affected by the suds and whatever remnant of the champagne as those watery substance quickly slid into people's ear, nose, mouth and even navel, rendering them to be nothing but mere passenger on their own body.

All in all, these aliens are indeed very elusive, and with so many type of them with differing abilities, there's still many more mode of infiltration these extraterrestrials have that need to be uncovered. This one is rather stealthy, taken people by surprise but certainly far from brutal. Yet, that is not always the case and we are going to go through some of them in the next edition

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰᴏᴜʀ [1, 2, 3] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 10k

“I have not been meeting with Steve.” you scowled behind gritted teeth. Balled fists return to your side. Pin-point daggers shoot back, unphased.

It’s an absurd notion on its own, that you betray him in the slightest. You also know you’ve had sneezes last longer than that conversation–how the hell did Tony know about it?

“Try again.” He doesn’t return your heat in his voice, leaving that to be felt through his grasp. 

“Fine, I ran into Steve, but come on, you seriously think I would–”

“Not sure what to think given how easy it just was for you to lie to me.” 

“You’ve been lying to me from the start!” 

You pulled yourself from his grasp, tossing the bag onto the island. Cream marble and translucency make for wonderful camouflage, almost losing itself in the light entirely.

“I’d hardly call my personal habits comparable to sneaking around.” 

Adrenaline does what it knows best, keeping you pliant and pissed. Two things that erode rationalism like rust. The iron spreads to whatever argument you would’ve made had there been more time to prepare. Or sense to see the mosaic pattern here. Time stills for no more than a few seconds–and that’s all Tony needs.

“So, go ahead, please. Tell me more about what I should think .”

He says it so permissively, you might have obliged if his jaw loosened even a bit to do so. That tiny breadth of space is stalked through by shiny leather oxfords. You’re given a not so pleasant reminder of his stature when he's in front of you again, more overwhelming than before. The cool stone island digs into your back. 

“Here I was actually worried something could have happened to you–turn’s out you’re searching for, what , exactly?” 

The reversal almost worked, really. The reminiscent guilt came back as it always does. You felt the same way for wanting to leave back in California months ago. Even all that time ago in that dimly lit boutique. Tony showed you time and time again how much he loved you– wanted you, and here you were, finding another reason to push him away.

You were so close to giving in. The marble’s nearly swallowed the powdery bag whole by now, for it takes you longer to see the plastic outline bouncing back at you. 

Tony waits, hands tucked into the pocket of his suit pants (in a very deliberate attempt to hide his own unease). His eyes still bore back into you like a hawk, and you wanted to surrender to them until their pin-point, reddened nature dawned on you. Then, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the tempo beating fast your own. The shake in his hands when he held you in place.

To Tony, you meet his eyes with something far more heart-piercing than anger, and he gets a sick feeling of deja vu. You wouldn’t know–his face stone cold from years of practice. But this close, you can see something worse. 

“You’re wasted right now .” 

You don’t bother making it a question (it’s a quiet scoff). Nor do you bother to wait for the response he’s struggling to muster. Decades of life yet he lacked a great deal of experience in getting called on his shit.  All the air seems to leave the room, saving just the few breaths you have remaining in your lungs. 

“We’re done.” 

You use them wisely, calmly , even, to head for the elevator and as far away from this as possible. Despite the fact your ears are ringing. Don’t ask where you find the willpower. You push past him, rather easily because Tony moves for the sanctity of his shoulder and knee. 

Your fingers go to grace the brass buttons, but Tony crosses the threshold with far fewer steps and positions himself between you and the opening door. 

“ Move , Tony.” you say sternly, though it feels ridiculous raising your voice at someone whose gaze you have to look up to meet. 

“Don’t want to keep Mr. America waiting, of course.”

“Seriously?” you scoff, eyes rolling. “You’re still on that?”

“I don’t know, you still wanna lie to me?” 

“How many times do I need to tell you–”

“I know you were with him, so you can cut the bullshit.”

“I told you, I ran into Steve. That’s . It. ” you respond, making another move for the button just for Tony to shift an inch to the left. 

“You two looked very cozy outside that bar. Let me guess, he ordered a Manhattan and you just couldn’t say no.” 

“For god’s sake, no . He came out while I was waiting and asked me not to tell you–end of story.” You’d hoped that added details would be enough to assuage him–at least to move out of your way.

“So, you decided all on your own to rummage through the bathroom?” 

As many of his questions tend to be, he already knows the answer. Even still, the look you give is telling on its own. 

“I mean, really–” he chuckles dryly, “Please tell me what is so special about him that you keep trusting him over me.” 

“He, for one, isn’t controlling or watching my every move–out of the way, Tony.” you repeat, exhausted. 

Tony’s eyes dart down to the elevator panel he’d done such a phenomenal job of blocking, before glancing back at your pleading face. That seems to do the trick, because he presses the call button himself and gestures open arms into the small space. 

“By all means, knock yourself out.”

Shocked, but without another word, you enter. As you turn and press L for the lobby, you expect Tony’s irate face staring back at you.

Instead, you catch the patterned fabric lining the back of his suit vest as he walks away.

Once the elevator doors shut, Tony loses his last semblance of composure. 

A sheer crystal serving tray by the stove behind him, topped with an array of ornate glasses, is thrown straight across the kitchen where it crashes to a million pieces at the plush living room rug. 

He truly does not enjoy your penchant for storming off today or any other day.

Today is the worst, though, for two reasons. One, he’s not certain that letting you leave was the best move in the long-term. Two, you promised never to do this in the first place–you fucking promised. 

Another innocent bystander (this time a glass pitcher) joins the pile in the living room. 

Stuttery hands brace the counter. It’s of little effort for him to keep a hardened facade in the face of anger, but now that you’re not here to see it, the stone mask cracks. Shame, guilt, anger and that sneaky trickster known as self-righteousness blend up into something new entirely. There’s no pride in this for him, truly. 

The billionaire was so certain when he saw the photos. You and fucking Rogers of all people, talking so close. Paranoia and a lack of reasonable perspective means his first thoughts are not pleasant in any shape or form. He wasn’t controlling , everything he did was preventative. This was self-confirmation (and a shit ton of jealousy). You’d simply done the thing he was most afraid of. 

Or it was the thing he was most afraid of. 

The counter stays tight under his grasp until his hands sport two fresh indentations, cursing himself and trying not to think about how breakable the chandelier is. 

Just as he was sure of the photos, he was sure of you . You wouldn’t leave him, you were here to stay, you wanted him–right? 

Only now under the cool touch of marble does he realize those ideas could never possibly co-exist. 

No one as good to him as you would betray him, you wouldn’t. But you could reach the breaking point he sought so heavily to avoid in the beginning.

All alone in his tower built atop money and bad habits, the chandelier is spared as the great Tony Stark starts to break instead.

That is until he remembers he isn’t alone.

“Jarvis.” he calls out, and the older man emerges from the hallway no louder than a mouse.

Don’t feel embarrassed, the walls and loyal ears have certainly heard worse. Discretion is 90% of his job after all. In fact, right now he’s pretending not to notice the tears running down Tony’s face.

“Find out where she went.”

Tony keeps his head trained to the countertop anyway, just in case. Jarvis turns to follow through his instructions, but stops as soon as he starts. Decades of serving the Stark family is enough to know he’s probably better off holding his tongue. He speaks for your sake.

“Sir, I suspect she went home.” 

At this, the wetness is dried by his shirt sleeve, already grabbing his coat to follow you. 

“Sir,” Jarvis quickly interjects, Tony’s fingers on the call button. “Might I suggest…waiting until the morning?” 

He doesn’t need to say why. Tony can guess well enough.

You actually had no destination in mind. The thought of home felt disgustingly empty, and the reminder that you only still had it because of Tony would definitely stay persistent. You couldn’t bear to think about what you might've done to pay for it otherwise. Going to a friend’s would require an explanation you absolutely could not give. For a while, you wander just as before. You must look insane to the people passing by–makeup definitely stained and running.

A rudimentary pros and cons list is drafted, revised, deleted, and drafted once more. Sure, you didn’t have a slew of loves to compare it to, but you knew the one you had for Tony was irreplaceable. No one ever made you feel this wanted , this loved , this special .  No ex of yours left a dozen roses by your door–or waited in the car for hours while you slept. They didn’t fill their lacquer kitchen cabinets with herbal teas just because you mentioned liking them once . Hibiscus and rooibos flooded Tony’s kitchen so long as it kept you happy . Every other relationship was a caustic whirlpool. Tony was a dizzying fantasia. You gleefully closed your eyes so many times that the thought of opening them made you nauseous. 

You swallow stale bile and keep walking. 

The dusky hue in the sky grows to a fine oceanic blue above you until you gain enough sense to go home. Out of spite (and totally not because you have no other way), you take the subway home, cheeks raw from the night’s sharp wind on your tears. 

Your heels clank awkwardly on the metal descent, echoing on the platform. It’s empty, sharply different from the vamping nightlife outside. It’s not long before your train hustles down the track, stepping on to an disturbingly, equally empty train car. 

You slump into the first empty seat you see. In a calmer mood, you might’ve bothered with your phone, instead staring into your reflection on the glass pane. The gentle rocking starts soon after, and you work on putting your mind somewhere besides bergamot and red. 

Tony does not like waiting.

He would be working, if he could find even a shadow of concentration. All he can think about is you– the grit in your voice. 

At some point in his marathon around the penthouse, the small pile of glass is quietly cleaned away. Out of sheer boredom (and latent regrets), he considers creating a new one.

Why would you leave him– how could you leave him? 

In the idle night hours, pacing from room to room, Tony almost wishes you had cheated on him. Then, he could be right. He could skip past silly little thought pieces over his vices addiction and fly straight to indignity. It wouldn’t be his fault, would it? He wouldn’t have to explain a damn thing to a world that didn’t care for him.

Everyone betrayed him in the end, even you. 

With enough clarity, he might be able to see the shame hiding under all that self-righteousness, but alas. Years of practice and all. 

The best he can do for now is scalding admonishment. 

And a pinch of paranoia that his own actions caused Steve to seek you out–again. Tony knew the soldier was stupid, but that would be moronic . He made himself perfectly clear this morning, no shot Steve chose this as the method for exacting his revenge. It wasn’t a well-guarded secret amongst Tony’s circle that you were to be left ignorant, you weren’t like them . Really, he’d purposefully (and harshly) informed this as much. If Steve wanted to embarrass him then he failed succeeded miserably. The fact he would even attempt such a thing is the greater offense. 

Tony’s self-indulgent, not an idiot. Even under watered layers of complexes, he knows the greatest offense lies ten feet away on his kitchen counter. In fact, it’s what keeps him awake through the night. Awake and thinking–thinking about how fucking flawlessly he was keeping everything under wraps. This infallible image he crafted for you was gone. No longer could he hide behind a glass barrier of false separation. Foolish Tony–believing a second chance would come so freely. 

He made the same mistake twice. The odds he’d get a third chance were slim to none. At the time, he felt lucky to even have Pepper. Clearly he’s doing something worth rewarding on this Earth, because then he found you. Or, alternatively, God realized what a disservice he’d done by walking missile Tony’s way in the first place. 

You were invaluable. Nothing like his playboy flings or one-night stands. From the moment he laid eyes on you he knew his life would never be the same without you.

You promised , and he intends to make good on it even if you won’t. 

Tony can’t recall the last time he waited for a damn thing in his adult life (much less to sober up), and he doesn’t care much for starting something new today. Then, he remembers just how much patience he has for you. He waits for you patiently as you oggle every mural, piece of street art, or weird boutique. He waits as quietly as can be while you sleep, and he waited months for you to feel comfortable enough to spend consecutive nights at his home. 

There’s a pit growing in his chest–one screaming that his hard work might be swirling down the drain. How stupid he was for letting you storm off. With each passing second, you were sinking further from his grasp.

To hell with waiting. 

After all, he’s Tony Stark –he’d deny himself of nothing he desired. He didn’t work this hard to settle for less than that. 

In his defense, he does attempt to do the courteous thing of calling before showing up randomly in the middle of the night. Your phone, hopelessly abandoned deep in your purse, rings to no answer. It totally doesn’t make him more irate. 

One extremely lonely, and infuriating train ride later, you make it home. You jump when a knock vibrates through your apartment–though you know there’s only one person who’d show up in the middle of the night. Still, you tiptoe across the living to peer through the peephole anyway. While you were not super enthusiastic about seeing him outside your door this soon, the defeated slump in his shoulders gives you some satisfaction. 

A very brief, stereotypical through-the-door conversation ensues. You shout for him to leave, to which Tony provides the usual platitudes to just open the door and you respond further with a stout fuck no .  You roll your eyes at his continued pleas, and turn for your bedroom. He could sit out there and talk to the door all night like a madman if it suited him, but you weren’t going to spend a precious second on this earth listening to it. 

You don’t even make it past your couch before you hear what you swear to god cannot be your lock turning. God, Buddha, and everything else divine must have been busy, because Tony stands in the entryway, illuminated by the kitchen stove light. 

“Have you lost your mind ? Where the hell did you get a key?” 

He shrugs and looks around like it’s obvious. 

“The lease holder is usually given a key, especially if they’re paying.” 

The aghast scoff can’t wait to leap from your throat. 

“You know what, fuck you .” you spat, flying past him to the door. “No good deed , huh?” 

Somewhere between you storming out earlier in the night and his decision to come here (or maybe walking up the creaking stairs) he seems to have gotten the impression you were in a joking mood. There’s nothing but sweetness in his voice now, yet you still can’t trust that you know where his head’s at. Your night had been tumultuous enough without him showing up. 

Your fingers just barely wrap around a cool metal knob, the hall light leaving a thin warm line on your face. Tony braces a heavy palm above your head the second it does, closing it shut with a frame wobbling thud . 

“A bit rude to run out on me twice, don’t ya think?” he smirks, looking down at you. 

“A bit rude to force your dirty money on someone then hold it over their head, don’t you think?” you mock, stupidly trying to pull the handle open a second time, unbudging against Tony’s palm, biceps testing the elasticity of his silk shirt. You were getting tired of constantly feeling trapped. 

You wish you’d stay far away, in the safety of the living room where citrus didn’t take you over. Where that hopeless little part of your brain could stay quiet and not scream to wrap your arms around his torso. Also because the door doesn’t move a fucking centimeter, so it was a waste of energy regardless. 

“If you wanted someone who’d let you work yourself to death or end up on the street, you should’ve called that guy from your high school reunion back. You know–the real handsy one with the mohawk.”

“I’ll get right on that if you move out of the fucking way.” 

“Please, like I’d ever allow that.” Tony laughs, and you’re wondering why you appear as some sort of one-woman comedy act by every man in this city.

“What the hell do you want? I told you–I’m done with this.” 

He ends his chuckle with a tsk , leaving you in the living room to sit at your kitchen table. The feet of the metal chair make a discordant screech across the linoleum and he turns the seat towards you before sitting. 

“You don’t mean that, honey.” Tony smiles, tapping his shoes against the floor.

“I meant it.”

He gestures back towards the entryway.

��Nothing but space and opportunity to run away again, what’s stopping you?”

“You just said you wouldn’t let me.” You’re giving it your all not to shout, to scream at him for how insane this is. If you were still at the tower, you might not have bothered–far away from neighbors with loose lips and thin walls. 

“I’d never allow you to waste your time with someone else. Storm off as much as you like–that won’t keep you from me.” 

It’s all cool words and charisma, with a sickeningly violet weight that flips your stomach. He’s far across the space, and the door is still within inches of your grasp. 

“Find literally anyone else to sit here and play this game with you.”

“What part of ‘ I want you, and only you ’ do you not understand?” 

The kitchen stove light still illuminates his figure, casting a dim shadow over his back to shadow his figure across the floor. His feet continue to tap idly, head resting on his palms as if confused to why such a statement even needed to be told to you (again).

“You were getting along just fine before you met me, go back to that–I don’t want any part of whatever the hell else it is you’ve been lying about–”

“I’m not letting you go.”

That sweetness is his voice is pushed out to make room for pure desperation. The words waiver as they leave him, clearly fighting against whatever instinct wanted to hold it in, though you can’t help wondering if that’s all that caused the shake. An air of silence falls, where he watches you from the kitchen with stabbing eyes. Walking away is logical, but something unnatural freezes you in place. Plus, you’re not certain he wouldn’t fly to the door again the moment you touch it. 

“Why me?”

Another short silence and this time you’re the one to take advantage of it, louder than you needed to be.

“And why accuse me of sneaking around? I barely even spoke to him how the hell did you know–”

“Were you not?”

Your nostrils flare, nails digging into tight wound palms.  Water droplets leave the kitchen faucet in out of time drips. This is why your fingers shook and bore a million typos to correct. Lying to Tony Stark was one of the stupidest riskiest things you could do. 

“I just needed time to think–”

“To play Nancy Drew..” He corrects. It’s not tempered, just matter-of-factly–like a lawyer pointing out bad evidence.  

“I needed to see for myself–” 

“ Asking totally wasn’t an option.” Tony meets your volume with too much ease.

“Like you would have told me the truth !”

“I’ve never lied to you–”

“Oh, right , you only speak in half-truths, or say it’s nothing to ‘concern myself with ’!” Your anger pulls you across the creaky floors of the entryway, feet tethering on the wood boundary lining off the tile of the kitchen. 

“You’re not–”

“That’s the real reason Pepper left you, isn’t it? Not any of that bullshit you tried to sell me L.A–she left because you play like some larger-than-life billionaire and not the shady piece of shit you are.” 

You don’t have to continue your slow stampede into the kitchen, as the chair makes another unsettling screech on the tile when Tony suddenly stands. An indignation only complimentary to your own is expected, but it isn’t what you get.

“I didn’t come here to be judged by you.” His mouth barely moves to say it–as even the slightest parting would cause him to shout back and have the fight you seem to be dying to have.

“Why the hell are you here?” A better phrased, more favored question in your opinion would have been ‘ why did you break into my apartment after I dumped you? ’, but the answer’s surely the same.

Tony can glare down lasers at you as much as he likes, he’s not getting his way (for once)–you aren’t crumbling (for once).

“I need you.”

That disgusting, heart-string tugging desperation comes back and it turns out you still haven’t built your defense strong enough. You’re taken aback, because you had prepped for a full blown argument. You had enough ammo loaded up to keep this going all night. But somehow, it’s a heavier three-word declaration than I love you .  It’s not a murmur or with a racing chest. 

And it is wholly true. Life had him placed on a giant, constant stage. Where he needed to be someone else–someone stronger and with rougher edges. It kept him enclosed. Where everything he hated about himself was reflected in everyone and everything around him. That kind of cycle is self-feeding. A snake gnawing at its exhausted tail for eternity. It was a spur of the moment decision to stop for a drink that night. Truthfully, he had more than enough already coursing through his veins, but the tower felt emptier than usual in his mind, and this career warrants you very few friends. 

Maybe it was the flickering neon signs–glowing brand names across the sidewalk. The bustling noise flooded the rest of the quiet street like an overflowing bucket. It was a grimy, crowded hole in the wall–small, and cut away from the sprawling residential neighborhood around it. It reminded him of his life before he fucked it up. When no one knew his name or where he came from.

You were just an added bonus. He had planned to relish in the chaos of everyone around as he drank for inebriation instead of taste for once. But dark red nails pass him the glass, and he finds himself stuck watching them for the rest of the night. Despite the man Tony was, he wasn't anyone to you, and a woman like you shouldn’t have been anything to him.

He comes back simply out of craving. That anonymity , that freedom. From responsibility, from judgment. Tony realizes he’s befriended the snake too long. He accepted everything around him as a product of fate and piss-poor luck.You changed that. You made him remember a long forgotten fact–that everything he wanted was within arms reach. 

Suddenly, your eyes take great interest in grout speckling the tile below. There wasn’t enough room for disbelief in the quaint walls of your apartment.

“You’re the only person who doesn’t see me, as–I don’t know, me?” he exhales, running over his face as he re-takes his seat.

“You,” you trail off, shoulders loosening just to earn a small tremble. “--actually mean that.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

You’re gathering the bravado to say something along the lines of ‘ well asshole you were high as a kite when you told me you loved me and never said it again ’. Maybe without the asshole part. A difficult act indeed.

"I didn’t sign up for any of this." you murmur, trying to quench any further questions and avoid a very stern ‘ I told you so ’. But Tony's gaze remains fixed on your arm, making your nerves spike. “–if I had known everything, your work–”

“You wouldn't have agreed to see me, really ?” Tony grins and cocks an eyebrow that you miss in your deep inspection of the tile. “You weren’t clueless when we met.” 

“I wasn’t but–”

“But what?” He sharply interjects. He can’t stand how your eyes land anywhere but him. This conversation is giving him deja vu, and not the whimsical kind. It’s the kind that wraps around the body and stops the flow of blood.  “All of sudden you wanna have a ‘ come to Jesus ’ moment and find some moral high ground?”

Tony’s, unsurprisingly, not wrong. You had good enough sense the moment he slipped into that barstool, asking for a whiskey list as if the knife-shaped tear in the cushion couldn’t tell him that was pointless. A brief glance and finger of Jack Daniels was all he got from you. You spent the rest of the hour catering to the usual Friday night crowd of drunks, only thinking of him again when the shiny green bills made a funny reflection underneath his empty glass. 

Honestly, you were more surprised no one took it for themselves.

It’s when he shows up a second night that you bother with conversation (purely out of gratitude and nothing else, right?). It’s the second night when you stay so, so much later than you should have, talking to someone you knew you shouldn’t be. You ignored it all then, just as you have for the last eight months. Burying your worries under a mountain of attachment and clouds of insecurity. 

You were lucky. Shit, you feel that same gratuitous pang right now. Grateful that he still wanted you. Actually, to put it in his words– needed you. You’re not certain how much longer you could’ve kept it buried if you hadn’t asked Steve directly. You didn’t want him to be right, but all he did was validate every worry and order a swift excavation of everything you hoped wasn’t true. 

“I kept telling myself that it was nothing, but–”” you trail off quietly.

“ But ?” he repeats.

You definitely can’t meet his gaze now, waiting for him to call you naive or tell you that this is somehow some huge misunderstanding. He doesn’t speak, though, and you can’t stop your mouth from opening under the weight of everything spinning in your head.

“But Steve says you’ve been doing this since you were in college.”

“That’s how Steve tells that story?” He scoffs.

“Come on, what else? Lay it on me, doll.” You watch a misshapen shadow stretch the length of the kitchen as Tony makes a dramatic beckoning of the hand.

“Why? So you can figure out what you don’t have to admit to?”

He takes a deep sigh that shifts into a short chuckle.

“You’ve been told a very half-cocked story, my apologies for trying to fix that. Trust me, Steve’s had it out for me for a while now.”

“I trust him a lot more than you right now.” 

“That would be a bad choice.” 

You snap your head up at the scorn. Where you gained this inclination to shoot back at everything with fire–you don’t know. You swear it’s just Tony, where sometimes you just want to match his arrogance tenfold.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that? I’ve learned more about you from him and so far, he hasn’t been wrong.”

“You know more about me than anyone, without running around behind my back.” 

“Yeah, there's just the woman you’re still married to, the cocaine in your bathroom, your company, whatever the hell it is you do while I’m sleeping because you surely aren’t–”

“Alright, alright, okay,” he interrupts, tossing his hands up in defeat and leaning back. “Would you just sit down for a sec–humor me, will you?”

Sullenly, you pull out the matching metal chair across from him. As you sit, folding your arms over your chest, you wonder how fate has aligned that you’ve met such an infuriating and intoxicating person. And why you were even giving this hail mary display the time of day. 

“Let me tell you a story, it’s a good one, swear.” Tony flashes a diamond grin and it takes everything in you not to return it. It does cool your nerves somewhat.

“Better be a good one.” you respond, and Tony promises it’s worth hearing. 

“I’m in my last year at MIT taking this exam for this real stick-up-his-ass professor–I’m talking this guy doesn’t have the muscles required to smile, just all nonsense. It’s my last godforsaken test before winter break and I’ve gotta pass this to be done with this soul-sucking school–”

“You? Stressing about school? Already this story’s got holes in it.” 

“Did you miss the part about this guy being a hardass? Because I could’ve sworn I mentioned it.”

“The test was all about theory and it didn’t matter how much you knew, you had to answer it the way he would. I actually had to focus for once and I’m on this question about integrating quantum computing with electrical grid systems, you know how the ions might–”

“Totally, right.” you remark once you realize a science lecture is inbound. Tony’s ramblings often came late and always flew completely over your head. Tonight, you’re just finding it hard to care. 

“You are a really bad listener, you know that?” 

That earns an instinctive smirk from you, but you sigh and let him continue.

“I’m ten equations and at least five paragraphs into this question and my pager starts going off. I don’t even bother checking what it is–I just hit silence and keep going.” he tells it like it’s a true epic, the sort you swap at tailgates or weddings to try to one-up someone else’s, but you get the sense it’s not. 

“An hour later with like, the worst cramp in my hand and 500% certainty I failed, no big deal, I finally check the message–call Jarvis back and he tells me my parents were in an accident. The weirdest thing was I didn’t even think they were dead–” 

“Tony–” you start, though you weren’t even sure what to say. 

“Honestly,” he chuckles dryly, the bravado in his voice silking away. “I was kinda relieved, for a second. The old man would’ve ripped me a new one for failing that test and I just thought he was a little banged up–too busy nursing a broken arm or something to check my grades.”

Tony’s laugh fades off into a somber sigh, shifting in the wobbling chair. The count of drips in the sink to your right tells you it’s been silent too long. You still don’t have the words to fill it. What kind of words would they even be? Of comfort? Humor to dispel his sadness? If he even was , that is. You gave up on trying to read him. 

“Anyway, my point is . I wasn’t ready to do this– I was 21, getting an electrical engineering degree, notice how that has nothing to do with medicine or biotech. So I did the cowardly thing–let someone else take the wheel and I’m still paying for it twenty years later. Believe me, I’m not loving this either.”

“Then why don’t you stop? I mean you still have a legitimate company, stop using it to make things you don’t want to make.” 

“It sounds so incredibly simple when you put it like that. Gee, wonder why I didn’t think of that earlier.” He makes an exaggerated face of amazement. “Look, I didn’t want you to know because I don’t need someone else telling me how to handle things–it’s my company, it’s my job to sort this out.”

“Does your job require you to test the product yourself?” It’s a lot ruder than you mean it to be, but it’s the real issue corroding your mind. 

“That’s one of the benefits we offer at Stark Industries.” he laughs. 

You still aren’t feeling humorous, scoffing and standing the moment you realize he isn’t taking a word you say seriously. Tony’s fast behind you, stepping between you and the arch into the living room. 

“Okay, okay. But you’re worrying yourself over nothing, doll. I’ve got it handled.” he assures you (poorly), bracing your shoulders with his hands. 

“Yeah, from here it looks totally handled.”

Contrary to the snare in your words, you weren’t a heartless monster. You weren’t playing moral adjudicator like Tony might think. You can recognize this as one of his rare moments of emotional theater, but you can’t be bothered to care knowing what comes after if you fall for it. Especially when you can tell from how not-serious he’s taking this that there’s not a chance he’d stop using anytime soon. You were just tired of being lied to. And you weren’t going to keep watching him self-destruct. All you needed right now was your bed and hot, long shower to put this day behind you.

Tony sighs, abandoning your shoulders to pinch his nose.

“It’s just…You experience things and then they're over and you still can't explain 'em. This business, Pepper, things I can’t even put into words. I...I'm just trying to make sense of it all. The only reason I haven't cracked up is probably because you’re around a lot more. Which is great. I do love you, I'm lucky. But, honey, I can't sleep, not when there's so much to be done to get out of this.”

You’re stunned into silence again. Because Tony speaks a thousand miles a minute and you’re still getting used to hearing ‘ I love you ’ from a sober mouth.

“Tony, this isn’t–” you stammer.

“I know, I know, you’re gonna say this doesn’t change anything but I can’t do that without you, I won’t.” 

Calloused hands brace your sides instead. Warm and loose instead of strict and holding. You can feel the static though. There’s an electric heat jumping between fingertips and white fabric that wants to hold you tight until you can’t tell the difference between his skin and yours. You’ll never see it another time so clearly, but the glaze in Tony’s eyes is desperate– unyielding . You’re scared to give in and only slightly less worried about what it means if you don’t.

You were pissed that he kept something from you– again . You still were. The whole world seemed privy to exactly who Tony Stark was, except you. You were an outsider looking in through frosted window panes. Like the new kid watching everyone else giggle at an inside joke you couldn't possibly understand. 

But you couldn’t say he didn’t care for you. The most damning part was that you loved him . Whether it was truly reciprocated was another question, but you couldn’t think of any other reason he’s standing in your kitchen at three in the morning, letting the stained brown walls wash out the blue details in his suit vest. 

So, you rather than blindly submit, you place a wager. 

“Then promise me you’ll get help.” You force your voice to be stable, confident. You meet his eyes with the same bravado, stepping back from his grasp. If done properly, and he needed you as much as he so claimed, then you win your self-made bet.

You notice he doesn’t reach out to hold you close, instead staring pensively into you for a moment longer than you would like.

 “Okay, done.” he answers, shrugging nonchalantly. “That all?”

“Really? That simple?” you ask, baffled

Tony shrugs again, the crisp folds of his vest giving way to a stout laugh then a sigh.

“If that’s what it takes.”

Afterwards, you’re able to easily separate your life into three segments. There’s life before you started dating billionaire Anthony Edward Stark, life after, and life when you started dating Tony . They are too separate individuals, afterall. You learn that in due time. 

Anthony Edward Stark is a wealthy businessman, arrogant, withholding, charming, and a few notches above dedicated to you. He hates vegan food and wasting time.He's utterly hopeless in the kitchen, with a preference for iron red and a penchant for dry martinis (always dry, you learned this from serving him a classic out of habit on night two). There’s a collection of Black Sabbath albums hiding under his office desk, and there’s a slightly larger collection of ballpoint pens in the trash can nearby–caps gnawed to uselessness in one too many spirals of concentration.

Tony is much the same, in all respects. Eeeeexcept there’s that ex-wife he seemingly abhors. And the designer powdered death he proliferates through the city. And the addiction he promises to hold at bay. He keeps his end of the bargain, though and vicariously becomes someone new once he sleeps a whole lot more. Okay, okay so there's a lot. Overall, he is calmer. The fiery temper is dulled, replaced with an occasional unwarranted annoyance at the most mundane of things. At first, it’s concerning to you–watching his face screw at tailgating cars or broken zippers. Then, you find it pretty amusing, seeing someone so perfectly sewn together furrow their brows at long lines instead of losing it altogether at moments of chaos. Though you quickly figure out why he avoided sleep in the first place. 

It doesn’t happen until your third night back at the tower. A drizzle coats the high windows of the bedroom, the moonlight barely enough to see the rise and fall of his chest beside you. You’re deep into sleep, curled into Tony when you’re jolted awake by a sudden movement. Your eyes flicker open, confused and scanning the silk sheets before he twitches again, muttering in his sleep.

Barely awake, you shifted onto your side, planting a hand on his chest. With his arms no longer wrapped around your side, another twitch sends them flying to his chest.  His skin was warm, damp, mutterings continuing to fall from his lips–angry broken pleas for someone or something to stop. You’d think the windows were open with how bad he shivered.

“Tony,” you called out softly, rocking his shoulder. “Wake up.” 

It takes a few more attempts, each shake growing stronger as you gain more clarity. One of them must have woken him, arms leaving his chest to push your arms away. Fresh off a nightmare and no more awake than you were, he used much more force than needed, completely overshooting your hands to inadvertently strike your cheek.

You winced at the unexpected blow, your hand instinctively flying to your slight sting. Swearing softly, you met his wide-eyed gaze. He moves away from you in the same instant, breathing heavily at the edge of the bed

“Shit–I’m sorry– Fuck,” His hands ran across his face and through his hair more times than you can count, still struggling to catch his breath. “I didn’t know you–”

“It’s okay-Are you okay?” you interrupted, far more concerned about the way how terrified he sounded in his sleep and barely feeling it anymore regardless.

“Yeah, all good, bad dream.” Tony swung his legs over the edge, head resting in his hands. “Shit, that shouldn’t have happened.”

You wanted to press him about it, but decided against it while his voice is this shaky. 

Instead, you move to sit behind him and run a hand over the soft skin of his back until his breath returns to normal. You don’t say anything when the shakes turn to muffled sobs. Instead, you move to sit behind him and run a hand over the soft skin of his back until his breath returns to normal.

Neither of you speak about it. Not then, the next morning, or ever again. It just becomes a new part of reality. Anthony Edward Stark doesn’t sleep. Tony has nightmares that can turn into full panic attacks and render him a tremoring mess. Afterwards, he takes a cold shower and returns to bed without a word. Not that you know what to say anyway.

This is somehow harder. To watch him lose control. You were, as most lovers are, impeccably biased. Tony’s life was enviable to anyone with a brain, and yet he was as fractured as anyone.

“Honey, you plan on eating?” he asks, tapping the rim of your porcelain plate with his fork. 

You’re brought out of your deep thoughts and back into the present where roasted lemon fills your nostrils from the salmon below. You blame the restaurant–far too quiet to keep from drifting off. The candlelight flickers gently over the small table, creating small dancing shadows of you and Tony on the white linen. 

You met his inquisitive brown eyes, giving a small apology before grabbing the cold metal fork. Despite its mouth-watering smell, the taste is anything but. You attempt to hide your displeasure, but such an act is useless this close. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony abandons his own meal to question you. 

"Nothing, it's just... a little overcooked for my taste," you reply, trying to sound lighthearted. You were never the kind of person to send a meal back, and certainly weren't about to start at a place with a Michelin star.

“Could have sworn you ordered medium.” His posture stiffens, eyebrows raised. 

“Simple mistake, it happens.” you shrugged, preparing for a second attempt. 

You don’t get the chance, as Tony stands abruptly, grabbing the plate before your fork could make an impression. 

“Be right back." he assures you, a cold detachment in his voice. 

Without waiting for a response, he strides away from the table, towards the back of the restaurant, leaving you confused. 

After a few moments of waiting, a sense of unease begins to gnaw at you. You rise from your seat and, with hesitant steps, vaguely follow the path he took to a set of wide swinging doors. The soft glow of the overhead lights illuminates the narrow hallway, casting long shadows against the walls.

As you approach the kitchen, a waiter hurriedly scurries out, giving you a glimpse of Tony inside, one hand typing away idly at his phone and the other resting on a prep table, wrapped tightly in a blue rag. 

Blood stains the pristine white of the chef's uniform, his nose crimson and dripping onto his graying beard as he flips a fresh piece of salmon. He spares you a brief timid glance when the doors swing. One hand dabs poorly at the splotches while the other white-knuckles a metal spatula. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you step cautiously into the kitchen, abandoning the warm lights of the hallway for the fluorescent kitchen overheads.

"Oh, hey there," Tony says casually, an icy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

 “He’s remaking your salmon.” he explains enthusiastically, returning his attention to his phone.

You stand frozen, watching crimson bleed through the rag. You guessed the chef didn’t take too kindly to criticism, and you know Tony doesn’t take no for an answer. 

Maybe you didn’t know what calm looked on Tony after all. 

You assume you should be grateful. Grateful that he did as you asked and stopped hiding behind his own layers. You got exactly what you wanted after, Tony, wholly and entirely bare for you to see. No more paranoia that you weren’t enough or that this would all come crashing you both down into murky waters. Well, there was still a chance of that. Only now the waves are crystal clear, revealing everything you begged to see. 

At least he got more sleep this way. 

You relished in waking up next to him–when it wasn’t from night tremors, of course. You could watch the sun streak through the curtains and glow around his features, calm and peaceful. It’s a moment of absolute solitude you look forward to each night. Listening to nothing but the faint calls of birds and muffled rumblings as the city woke up 93 floors. You bide the time hill wakes by running your fingers along his chest and shoulder, memorizing scars by feeling alone.

This morning you awake too early, daybreak barely starting and an inability to fall back asleep. Quietly, you pull yourself from Tony’s tight embrace and tiptoe your way downstairs for a cup of tea. You forgo bothering with the lights, getting enough light from the shy horizon to make your way around. You open the kitchen fridge in the hopes of finding a lemon, only to jump nearly out of your skin when a sound comes from the island behind you. 

“ Christ !” you yelped, slamming the door shut and turning to the source.

Harley laughs and takes another bite of his apple, making the same loud crunch as a moment ago. “Aw, did I scare you?”

“What is with you people and sitting in the damn dark?” you question rhetorically, walking to the end of the kitchen to turn on the lights. You tighten the short silk robe around your pajamas, standing across from him. “I was trying to surprise the old man for his birthday, which you are ruining, by the way.” he remarks, pointing a wagging finger. 

“Tony’s birthday?” you ask, confused. “I didn’t know–”

The young man interrupts with a dismissive wave as he swallows another bite. “He doesn’t like to make a ‘ thing ’ of it, don’t sweat.” He gives complimentary air quotes, sitting back in the barstool.

“Fair enough.” You turn back to the cabinets to complete your original task. Behind you, Harley’s teeth piercing the fruit fills the early morning silence, interrupted by the flicker of the stove as you heat the kettle. You feel him eyeing you the entire time but decide not to feed into this time for your own peace. 

“Thanks, by the way.” Hot water is making its way into a lilac mug when he speaks again. 

“For, y’know.” he adds when you pivot with a puzzled face.

“No, I don’t know.” you respond exasperatedly, feeling a dig coming your way. You dip the tea bag into the water, stirring as he just stares back at you. You roll your eyes and head towards the stairs, deciding for certain that conversation with that kid was pointless.

“Were you not the one who got him clean?” He waits until your feet touch the first step to say it, forcing you to pivot.

“I’m not taking credit for his life choices.”

“Fair enough.” he mimics your tone from earlier with a gentle shrug. 

With that, you leave and retreat back upstairs.

The lukewarm tea slides down your throat with better ease in the bedroom. Tony continues to sleep beside you as the sun greets the sky, until you're drifting off too.. 

When you rise again, the chaotic rumbling of the city drifts up and through the windows in full force. You stretch out slowly, tuning into the sound of Tony’s voice and staticky music from the bathroom. You flip over to the source, seeing Tony at the sink fixing a slender graphite tie to his neck. Quiet as a mouse and far too comfortable to leave the silk sheets, you simply observe through the open door. Unaware to his spectator, he continues half-singing half-muttering  verse after verse of Back in Black . You have to stifle a giggle–not in judgment but in adoration. You didn’t think Tony Stark would belt rock lyrics as he cursed his hair for not blow drying exactly how he wanted. 

Eventually, he spots your watchful eyes, after he secures chrome cufflinks and stoops down to straighten his pants. You smile when you realize you're caught. 

“Hopefully you’re enjoying the show.” he grins, exiting the bathroom as he loops a thick leather belt around his waist. 

“It’s alright, could have better acoustics.” you taunt. 

Tony feigns offense as he kneels on the bed beside you. The soft mattress doesn’t make a sound for his weight to settle over top of you. Suddenly beneath him, cypress aftershave and evergreen shampoo drown out your senses. You know he’s not doing this to turn you on, it’s a byproduct of his nature–but now you just want to ruin the hair you watched him spend five minutes perfecting.

“Anyone else would be appreciative to AC/DC , or is that beyond your generation?” Tony asks, bracing an arm beside your head to fiddle with a free strand of hair. 

“I worked in a dive bar–think I know dad rock when I hear it.”

“Ouch.” he winces, a short chuckle following after. 

“Hey, never said it was bad.” you add, and he gives you a questionable hmm in response.

You’re fixated on the way his body compresses your own–the texture of his thumb on your face.

 “Happy birthday, by the way.” you say after a moment of silence. To this he stiffens, his gentle expression changing in the same way. 

“Hmm, guess that is today.” he muses. 

“I take it you haven’t been downstairs yet, then.” you say, thinking of Harley. Tony groans you curse the loss of his weight as he stands. 

“Nope, and I already know the kid’s down there raiding my refrigerator and getting crumbs everywhere.” There’s a strong disdain in his voice, reminding you of the phone call a few weeks ago.

He disappears back to the bathroom, swiping a watch from the granite sink. You stay silent in the airy cloud of sheets, tongue dancing behind your teeth. Clearly, a moment of silence is too telling for Tony. While you're fixated on the ceiling, he creeps back into the room, startling you when he hits the bed once more.

“You want him gone, say the word.” he declares, playfully. You’re barely listening, or really even bothered to think about Harley. It’s hard to concentrate on anything other than the fact that he’s  just hovering over you and not crushing you into the mattress or kissing you or –

Your train of thought is derailed when a hand laces behind your neck, fingers settling at your nape and a thumb below your chin. Tony smirks when your eyes flicker to his, increasing the pressure with his thumb until your lips part for air.

“I believe I asked you a question, doll.” He relents for a moment, only enough for your throat to strain as you answer.

“I don’t mind.” you whisper, letting your legs graze his suit pants. There was a small hope the cool fabric would soothe the warmth breaking out on your skin, but the itch just drives you insane.

“Good.” Tony releases his grip to plant a kiss on your forehead. In the next breath, his feet touch the floor again and you contemplate if the lost pride is worth begging him to touch you. 

You don’t get a chance to decide, as he gives some short winded promise about returning before the afternoon and exits the bedroom.

After a frustrating shower, and against both Harley and Jarvis’ better judgment (and very stern insistences), you decide to do something nice for Tony’s birthday. Well, as nice as you can without spending his own money.

It takes the better half of the day, and you have to ban a persistently nosy frat kid from the studio the entire time. You feel guilty about not knowing sooner. Then, you maybe would’ve pulled off something more his style. And then maybe like the finished product. It feels, and honestly, looks rushed (because it is), but in the end you feel worse about giving him nothing after all he’s done for you. 

It’s a small canvas–easy enough for you to carry down the spiral stairs without breaking an ankle. It’s a quarter to three when you make the final stroke. Once you’ve managed to get the stained ink from your fingers, voices start to flood from downstairs. You manage to do a half-decent job wrapping, which gets you way too excited to gift it. Sure, you’d given art as presents to friends before, but not since you were 10 and those were C-tier cards at best. This wasn’t your best work, though it still gave you the same sense of love. 

You call out Tony’s name as you head downstairs, hearing his and Harley’s voices echo from the living room. The muffled words are sharp and tense. You don’t notice the third voice over theirs, or the thud of the feet. You don’t even see her until you enter the space. 

“Well, who do we have here, Tone’?” Two rows of perfect porcelain teeth gleam at you over Tony’s shoulder.

He turns to you the moment she speaks, brows tighter than a steel drum and fists tight by his side. Harley stifles his chuckle behind the kitchen island. 

Silence pulls new red heat to your cheeks. The living embodiment of every insecurity you’d forgotten stood ten feet away in Louboutin heels. Tony’s stories painted enough of a picture of a flawless woman. Actually seeing her, now that was new territory. Her strawberry blonde locks were meticulously curled, in a mauve dress without a single wrinkle in sight. You felt embarrassed with your undone hair,  in stained clothes and matching ink-ridden hands. 

You start an equally embarrassing stammer of your name, to which Tony interrupts.

“Nope, not a chance.” He meets your eyes with fire before turning back to Pepper. “How the hell did you get up here–Actually, I don’t even want to know. Leave now.” 

Pepper grins like they're old friends catching up. You feel like you shouldn’t be witness to whatever this is, awkwardly holding the canvas.

“Aw, Tony ,” she drags out with a click of her tongue. A slender hand reaches down into a thin leather briefcase, placing an envelope on the island. “Just thought I’d give you your present in person.”

“An email would have sufficed.” He grits.

“Well that wouldn’t be very polite, hm?” She cocks her head like it’s a serious question. 

“Exit is directly behind you.” 

Some quippy remark brews and dies on her tongue. A small glance is spared your way again, before she leaves.

Tony doesn’t move until the whir of the elevator starts. Harley clears his throat and retreats to the back hallway without another word.

“Tony–” you call out as he passes you for the stairs. He grants you a dismissive wave that cuts you short and swells your throat. All but stomping he makes his way up the stairs, leaving you alone with all the tension they left behind.

The white envelope goes unattended. Tony didn’t bother with it, but you do. Setting your gift against the stair railing, you tiptoe over to it. It’s unsealed–a solitary white letter tucked away. The ornate New York State emblem is a pale distraction for the words below. 

ᴜɴᴄᴏɴᴛᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴘᴇᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅɪᴠᴏʀᴄᴇ 

An agreement for complete dissolution separation of any and all assets for both parties.

Signed by Pepper Potts in midnight ink.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate’s Promise

Chapter 10: Navigating the Unknown: Destination Punk Hazard 

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 (Here)

AN: Chapter 10 is finally here! Im not gonna lie Im inspired to continue to write more so Chapter 11 might get dropped early today! This is a relatively short chapter. But its needed for the plot. Like always the chapters are all linked! And without further ado, heres chapter 10. 

Y/N is an established pirate and a formidable warrior, with the third highest bounty in the Straw Hat crew. She's not just another member; her strength and skills have earned her a respected spot among the crew.

Sanji, our favorite lovesick cook, falls head over heels for Y/N almost immediately. True to his nature, he tries every trick in the book to catch her attention, from cooking her favorite meals to showering her with compliments. On the other hand, Y/N may have a small crush on Sanji, but she’s cautious and focused on her goals as a pirate.

As the story progresses, that small crush gradually blossoms into something more profound, but their journey together won't be easy. With the chaos of the New World looming, the dangers they face will test their bond and loyalty to each other. Will their love be strong enough to survive the trials ahead, or will the perils of their pirate life tear them apart?

Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster filled with angst, action, and a dash of romance. I'm thrilled to take you on this adventure with Y/N, Sanji, and the rest of the Straw Hat crew!

Word Count: 2.8K

Sanji x Y/N, OP X Reader, Sanji x Reader

Chapter 10: Navigating the Unknown: Destination Punk Hazard 

Our journey to Fishman Island was both rewarding and crucial, as we uncovered key information that will shape our adventure ahead. The island faced a major upheaval as an anti-human faction of fishmen, led by Hordy Jones, ignited a rebellion to stop cooperation between merfolk and humans. Fortunately, Luffy managed to defeat Hordy, and we took down the New Fishman Pirates, restoring peace to the island.

Robin discovered a crucial Poneglyph that revealed the tale of Joy Boy and his ancient promise to the royal family of Fishman Island. It also spoke of Poseidon, an ancient weapon, which turned out to be none other than Princess Shirahoshi herself, possessing the incredible power to command the Sea Kings.

After the dust settled, Luffy offered Jimbei a spot in our crew, but Jimbei declined, explaining his need to first sever ties with the Big Mom. Meanwhile, the rebellion had caused significant damage, including the destruction of the candy factory, which left Fishman Island unable to fulfill its monthly candy quota to Big Mom. In response, Luffy stepped in to protect the island from her wrath. When Big Mom herself made contact, Luffy boldly declared, "I'm ready to kick your ass!" and hung up the transponder snail with confidence. I placed a hand on his shoulder and told him, "This is going to be a good fight, Captain."

After freeing Fishman Island from Hordy’s grip, Neptune and the royal family threw us a grand celebratory banquet. But, I know what some of you are wondering—what about me and Sanji? Well, the truth is, Sanji didn't exactly live up to his promise. Not only did he flirt with almost every mermaid in sight, but he also went as far as turning to stone for the Princess herself!

Sanji was pulling his usual stunts on all the women, completely forgetting the promise he made to me. I had to pull him aside and tell him, "Sanji, it's clear you can't control yourself. Maybe it's better if we just stay friends instead of being in a relationship."

Sanji, of course, wasn't thrilled with that idea. He looked at me, his eyes wide with shock. "But Y/N, I— I can change! Please, just give me another chance."

I sighed, trying to keep my voice calm. "Sanji, it's not about changing who you are. But if you can prove to me that you can control yourself, that you can keep your promises... then maybe, just maybe, I'll give you another chance."

Sanji's eyes lit up with a glimmer of hope. "You mean it, Y/N? I'll do whatever it takes, I swear."

I nodded, though there was a part of me that remained cautious. "Actions speak louder than words, Sanji. Show me that you can keep your word, and we'll see where things go."

Sanji opened his mouth to say something else but I could tell this decision weighed heavily on him.

Now, as we set sail for Punk Hazard, I find myself sitting with Zoro, sharing some sake and venting about what happened with Sanji.

"I just don’t get it, Zoro," I say, taking a swig from my cup. "He promised, you know? But then he went right back to his old ways like it didn’t mean anything."

Zoro smirks, his eyes sharp as he refills our cups. "That's just how the cook is. Can't keep his nose out of trouble, especially when it comes to women. But if you ask me, you’re better off not getting tangled up in all that."

I nod, appreciating his straightforwardness. "Yeah, maybe you're right. Just feels like a mess, you know?"

Zoro takes a long sip, his gaze shifting to the horizon. "Stick to what matters—fighting and getting stronger. Everything else is just noise. Besides, you deserve someone who won’t make you feel like an idiot, Y/N."

His words hit me harder than I expected, leaving me momentarily speechless. I looked at him, but he just stared ahead, as if what he said was the most obvious thing in the world.

I let his words settle in, the truth of them resonating deeply. Maybe he was right. Maybe I did deserve better—someone who wouldn't make me second-guess myself, someone who wouldn't break promises. I stayed quiet, just letting what Zoro said stay with me as we sailed onward toward whatever challenges awaited us at Punk Hazard.

Just then, I overhear Nami on the other end of the ship, her voice tinged with concern as she talks to Franky. “There’s something seriously wrong about this place. The fish are dead!” she says, her tone rising with alarm. “They’re all bone!”

Brook, ever the optimist, chimes in with his usual humor. “And what’s wrong with that, hmmm?” He laughs, his skeletal form perfectly matching the description. The absurdity of the situation makes me chuckle, and I was about to take another sip of the sake when a distressing sound interrupts us—a cry of someone in distress.

“You guys, check this out!” Luffy’s voice echoes through the hall, filled with curiosity. “Looks like the transponder snail picked up a signal,” says Sanji, who had just walked in. He notices me entering with Zoro beside me and quickly looks away, his earlier bravado deflated.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Luffy asks the transponder snail, already itching to take action. “Should I pick it up and see if they need help?”

“Wait, Luffy,” Robin interjects, her voice calm but firm. “This is often a trick used by the Navy to lure pirates. Once you pick up, they can pinpoint your signal and launch a surprise attack.”

But, in true Luffy fashion, he doesn’t hesitate. Before anyone can stop him, he picks up the call, leaving all of us stunned. “My name is Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates!” he declares with unwavering determination.

Usopp and Nami immediately smack him on the head, yelling in unison, “Don’t tell them all that!”

The voice on the other end of the transponder snail is weak and filled with desperation. “Someone help! Please, it’s cold! We need Boss! My friends are getting cut down! One after another! The Samurai is going to kill us!”

“Where are you?” Luffy demands, his concern evident as he grips the snail tighter.

“Please, hurry! We’re on the island… Punk Hazard,” the voice continues, before it ends in a chilling scream, followed by the sickening sound of gurgling blood.

The room falls silent as we all process what we just heard. I exchange a glance with Zoro, my heart racing.

Luffy, now hanging up the call, says with a grin, "Hmm, sounds like trouble is brewing out there."

Usopp’s face pales as he waves his hands frantically. "What do you mean, trouble?! He’s dead! That scream... it wasn't acting!"

Robin crosses her arms, her expression calm yet cautious. "Maybe he was acting, and this could be a trap. The Navy isn’t above using desperate measures to catch pirates."

"Whatever it is, it doesn't seem good," I add, glancing at the group. The uneasy atmosphere is palpable as we all look towards the flames rising from the distant island, the seawater connected to an icy landscape. The contrast is eerie, foreboding.

"The guy mentioned Punk Hazard," Franky speaks up, his mechanical eye zooming in on the island. "You think this is the place?"

Robin nods, her gaze fixed on the distant shore. "Most definitely. Those transponder snails have limited range, so it’s likely we’re close."

“Let’s fight through the fire and help him!” Luffy cheers, already fired up for the challenge ahead.

I glance around, seeing the worry etched on everyone’s faces. The unknown is always the scariest part, but Luffy’s infectious energy makes it hard not to feel a bit braver. Despite the fear in the air, Luffy just laughs, confident as ever, as we approach the ominous island of Punk Hazard.

But as we near the island, none of us could have known that another enemy was also making their way to Punk Hazard

Marine G-5: 

“My name is Monkey D. Luffy, and I’m going to be King of the Pirates!” “Dont tell him that!” “Were on the island.. Punk Hazard!! We dont have much time left!” 

Tashigi’s eyes widened as she recognized the voice. “That’s Luffy!” she exclaimed, her hand tightening on the hilt of her sword.

“Punk Hazard, huh?” Vice-Admiral Smoker muttered, looking down at his log pose. His face was serious, but there was a flicker of something close to satisfaction in his eyes. “Damn, not the most ideal place, but at least we know where the Straw Hats ended up.”

He paused, thinking back to the recent events. “Makes sense, considering the battle at Fishman Island. But the real question is: did they answer that call for help, or did they move on?”

Tashigi looked up at him, awaiting orders. Smoker’s expression hardened as he made his decision. “Tashigi, set course for Punk Hazard.” 

Smoker turned to his men, his voice booming with authority. “Alright, men! Get ready—we’re heading to Punk Hazard!

Back to the Thousand Sunny: 

Sanji lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly as he addressed the group. "So… how many of us are going to the island? We don’t know what we’re dealing with, so some of us should stay and guard the ship."

Luffy, always eager for adventure, turned to Franky. "Franky, I need the Mini Merry!"

Franky gave a thumbs up, grinning. "Gotcha, Luffy!"

Nami, however, wasn’t having it. "Are you crazy?! You aren’t going alone!"

“I agree with Nami,” you chimed in, giving Luffy a concerned look. “You can’t go by yourself, Luffy.”

Luffy, unbothered, looked around and caught your eye. “You want to come, Y/N? That’s fine with me.”

Before you could answer, Sanji cut in, his tone sharper than usual. "No!" Everyone turned to look at him, surprised by his outburst. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to play it off. "I mean, if we let Captain Belly Warmer over here"—he pointed at Zoro—"go with Luffy, they’d be lost for days."

Zoro shot Sanji a glare. "What did you say, Curly-brow? At least I’m not some lovesick cook who can’t focus when there’s a pretty face around!"

Sanji’s eyebrow twitched in irritation. "Oh yeah? Say that again, Mosshead, and I’ll kick you all the way to the island myself!"

The two of them started bickering, getting right in each other’s faces, neither one willing to back down. It was the usual heated exchange, with insults flying back and forth as if it was a sport.

Nami, rolling her eyes, decided to put an end to the chaos. "I knew it would come to this. Everybody, draw straws!"

With that, she pulled out a bundle of straws, each with a single red line on one of them. Everyone gathered around, drawing their straws one by one. You pulled yours out and looked at it—no red line.

"Man, I really wanted to go too," you pouted, disappointed.

Zoro smirked, leaning back with his arms crossed. "You’re going to miss out on the fun!"

Robin, standing nearby, gave a small, mysterious smile. "This should be fun indeed," she said, her eyes glinting with curiosity and amusement.

Usopp, on the other hand, looked like he was already regretting his luck, holding the straw with the red line. "Why is it always me?!" he groaned, clearly not as excited about the upcoming adventure as the others.

Luffy, completely unfazed by the tension and excitement, just laughed. "Alright, let’s go! Adventure awaits!"

As the Mini Merry was prepared, the crew made their final checks, each one gearing up for whatever awaited them on Punk Hazard. You waved them goodbye, a mix of excitement and concern in your expression. "Good luck out there! And try not to die!"

Nami nodded in agreement, her usual worry showing through. "Yeah, don’t do anything reckless!"

Chopper chimed in, waving both of his tiny hooves. "Be careful! And make sure to come back in one piece!"

Franky, with his usual enthusiasm, gave them a hearty thumbs-up. "You guys got this! Just remember, the Mini Merry is SUPER, so take care of her!"

Brook, ever the optimist, added with a laugh, "Come back alive, everyone! Yohohoho!"

And Sanji, standing beside you, looked back at the departing Mini Merry with a soft smile. "Goodbye, everyone. Stay safe out there!

As the Mini Merry began to disappear into the flames, you could feel the heat intensifying, and your cropped shirt was starting to cling uncomfortably to your skin. Turning to Nami, you asked, "Do you have anything cooler to wear? It’s getting pretty hot out here."

Nami glanced at you with a knowing smirk. "Yes, I do. Come with me!"

Sanji, who had been nearby, looked over with an enthusiastic grin. "Sanji, can you get us something cool to drink?" you requested.

Sanji swooned dramatically. "Of course, ladies! I’ll whip up something refreshing!" He headed toward the kitchen with his usual flair.

Nami led you to her room, where she handed you a light blue mini corset that left little to the imagination. You hesitated for a moment but then put it on, feeling the coolness of the fabric against your skin. You decided to stick with your skirt and ankle boots, opting to create a tight ponytail to keep your hair from sticking to your sweaty neck.

When you and Nami reappeared in the common area, Sanji emerged from the kitchen with a tray of drinks. His eyes widened as he saw you in the new attire, and he stopped mid-sentence. "Ladies, I bring you a nice cool, delicious—" He trailed off, clearly taken aback by your appearance.

Nami chuckled softly beside you. "Looks like Sanji’s lost his words."

Sanji quickly regained his composure, though his cheeks were slightly flushed. "Uh, right, right. Here are the drinks! They should help you cool off."

You took the offered drink, trying to ignore the heat on your cheeks from both the weather and the attention. "Thanks, Sanji. This is just what we needed."

As you and Nami shared a drink with Chopper, the conversation shifted to the unusual clouds in the sky.

"You guys see that?" Nami asked, her gaze fixed upwards.

Chopper squinted. "I don’t see anything."

"Yeah, what about the clouds?" you chimed in, your curiosity piqued. "Something seems off."

Just then, a strange, chemical smell hit you, causing you to wrinkle your nose. "You guys smell that?" you asked, struggling to stay conscious.

"Yeah, it's making me a bit sleepy," Chopper admitted, his voice growing drowsy.

Before you could react further, your vision started to blur, and you felt an overwhelming wave of fatigue. You crumpled to the ground, unable to keep your eyes open. Sanji tried to reach you, but soon he, along with Brook, Franky, Nami, and Chopper, were all succumbing to the same mysterious force.

As darkness closed in, you caught a glimpse of men in suits with hazmat gloves and masks approaching. One of them crouched down beside you and spoke softly, "Master, we found the intruders. We are taking them to the base now."

With those final words echoing in your ears, you felt the last vestiges of consciousness slip away, and the world faded into darkness.

.

.

.

.

We have now entered Punk Hazard!!! Sanji and Y/N decided to not pursue anything after Fishman island. But don't you guys worry our favorite lovesick cook will redeem himself! I have faith! Gotta trust the process! But the upcoming chapters will be cooking! Once we hit Whole Cake Island along with Wano!! Ohh the plans that I have! But for now Sanji has to prove himself! And Zoro coming in with advice like that (Hmmm wonder why?! heheheh) I'm actually going to start on chapter 11 tonight because I'm on a roll with these chapters. Who knows there might be a surprise drop tonight also… Thank you guys for following along! Along with sharing, liking and interacting! I hope you guys are enjoying it as much as I love writing it!. The next chapter tho (we have a few surprise guests) ;) again all is fair in love and war…

[middlenamesage]

What each sign teaches us plus some hard truths each might need to ask!

KEEP IN MIND we all have all the signs in our birth chart; whether those houses are “empty” or not, they still have influence. We also all experience transits through all the signs, and we even have progressed charts that account for the archetypes we get more into learning later on. So take WHATEVER resonates for you with any of this!

♈️🐏 Aries teaches us action and that action comes from us with the least resistance when we know and trust who we are as an individual.

Hard truth: Aries, have you been seeing yourself or living your life as though you’re a one-man island? You might think you’re stronger than others for your hyper-independence, but at times the greatest strength for YOU is recognizing and embracing what others have contributed to your life and to who you are. It could also behoove you to think of others or to think more carefully through potential outcomes before you act sometimes.

♉️🐂 Taurus teaches us personal peace by aligning our focus on what we need for material and psychological stability.

Hard truth: Taurus, have your values, personal preferences, or your attachment to possessions become overly rigid? While honoring our values and preferences and ensuring we have the necessary items for material security and comfort are an important part of the process in finding peace, total inflexibility about these things can end up sending you in the opposite direction of peace.

♊️🌬️ Gemini teaches us to gather objective information from the world around us, and how to communicate information.

Hard truth: Gemini, have you been looking down so many avenues of knowledge, that you haven’t allowed yourself the time and sustained focus to sort out your own philosophies, or go more into depth or meaning, around the subjects you’re learning? At times you should also strive to keep better track of what you’re communicating to people, and to focus on understanding the meaning you project with your words, not just the information provided by them.

♋️🦀 Cancer teaches us how to emotionally support ourselves and others (self nurturance is key for support of others to be most functionally helpful)

Hard truth: Cancer, have you become so focused on protecting yourself or others, that you’ve started to see danger where it doesn’t even exist? Careful, paranoia is not a good look for anyone, but especially not you. There’s a reason you have instincts to build walls around you, not unlike a crab retreating into its shell. 🦀 But if this becomes a default action and not just used when it’s actually needed to protect your space or safety, the function of your energy to support and nurture can not be as well realized.

♌️🦁 Leo teaches us confidence in authentic expression of self. Where the first fire sign teaches us confidence in establishing self, the next one teaches us how to implement authentic expression of oneself.

Hard truth: Leo, have you been going out of your way to seek input from others that your self expression is valid? Well cut that out if so, because that would defeat the entire purpose of practicing YOUR expression. YOU decide if it’s valid. I could also advise something like “be less self centered!”… but honestly that’ll just start to happen naturally once you’re actually authentically relying on your own validation only. 🦁

♍️🌾 Virgo teaches us how to take care of things in the practical realm. We wouldn’t have a functioning world around us in this physical plane if it weren’t for Virgoan energy assessing all the details of structures, systems, and routines… makes sense I’ve read from at least one source that Virgo is the most common Sun sign!

Hard truth: Virgo, have you gotten so up in your head, Mercury style, about the details of your routines or the tasks you need to do, that it’s become challenging to actually successfully or efficiently attend to them? When Virgo energy gets dysfunctional like this it could really take a cue from Mars/Aries. “Just do it!” Also, whenever you start to find yourself being especially critical of yourself or others, you could stand to remind yourself of the big picture dynamics, concepts, or goals you have in mind.

♎️⚖️ Libra teaches us interpersonal peace by putting the focus on compromise and balance.

Hard truth: Libra, if you’ve been going out of your way to appease others, you might need to ask yourself if this is because you truly care about what’s best for them, or if it’s a behavior more connected to lack of rootedness in YOURSELF that makes you averse to conflict? It’s important for you to try to get to know and exercise your authentic individuality. The South Node currently in Libra with the North Node in Aries can help anyone who wants to make progress here.

♏️🦂 Scorpio teaches us how to face our shadows and ultimately how to integrate them so that we may transform.

Hard truth: Scorpio, have you been so obsessed on analyzing your past for answers to why you are as you are, that you’ve forgotten to just focus on finding some personal peace in the moment? You could take a cue from your opposite/sister sign Taurus if you find yourself in this position. �� Also, when it comes to your trust issues, two big things will ultimately help: 1.) Build your SELF trust through giving yourself the opportunities to make and carry out your own decisions (Scorpio is Mars too and needs to act!) and 2.) Use/cultivate your deep instincts about people to ensure it’s supportive people you have most around you, while doing whatever you can to keep the toxic ones out.

♐️���� Sagittarius teaches us how to form our beliefs and find meaning however it encourages you to expand.

Hard truth: Sagittarius, have you fallen into the trap of thinking the philosophies that give YOUR life meaning are the same beliefs that others need to adopt? WHOA back up there buckaroo! It’d behoove you to remember that Sagittarius is a fire sign, so it deals with some personal aspects of our individuality. Not everyone will find inspiration to expand from the same designations of meaning as you, and you need to learn to not try to push your worldviews on anyone who isn’t receptive.

♑️🐐 Capricorn teaches us how to build structure and commit to a long term goal/vision/plan.

Hard truth: Capricorn, have you become so blinded by your personal standards for quality or by what it is you’re trying to build to be a certain way, that anyone or anything that does not fit neatly into your structure appears as a threat or a reason to give up hope to you? At times you could stand to gain a little more flexibility and optimism. Setbacks do not mean the end, and if you could fast forward over your life you would see this, so if you’re having trouble seeing it now, try to see if you can regain a bit of the hopeful outlook from the sign that came just before you. I promise the capacity is within you. 😉

♒️🏺 Aquarius teaches us the ins and outs of society so that we may reflect on what we as an individual can bring to it or help liberate it.

Hard truth: Aquarius, have you been viewing yourself so much as an outsider, that it’s tempting to see yourself as separate from the rest of society? Well I have a hard truth for you: You’re not separate from it and not above it; no one is. And it’s especially dysfunctional for YOU to see yourself as a distinct and separate entity not influenced by society, or as too different from everyone else to be able to relate to them- society needs your insightful contribution!

♓️🐟 Pisces teaches us empathy and fosters our imagination through the understanding that everything is connected.

Hard truth: Pisces, have you been seeing yourself as the victim? You really need to hear that if you would just cut that out and start seeing yourself instead as an empowered dreamer with strong intuition you can continually cultivate, your ability to manifest* would be arguably the most insane of all the signs. (*Not that I support the idea that everything can be attained through manifestation alone.) Take it from a Pisces rising who learned the hard way and is feeling inspired to expand on this one: victimhood is The most detrimental trap for Pisces. Not only because it keeps your reality feeling like that of a victim, but also because Pisces energy is nearly functionally useless if it’s too self absorbed to ever see or act according to the Piscean message of interconnectedness. Learning the right amount to give compassionately of yourself, with the appropriate boundaries, is a crucial part of the Piscean journey!

Thanks for reading, and happy astrological evolution! 🌻

[rayroseu]

This line is making me sad akjdkakdks its making me imagine that once Malleus sees that his overblot causes pain rather than making the people of his life happy... he'll realize that "he is no good as a king at all since he harmed his people"😭😭

"Seeing you all worry helped me calm down..." ARGHH IT MAKES ME THINK OF THE SCENE WHERE HE SAW HOW ANGUISHED SILVER WAS ABOUT LILIA'S DEPARTURE... Like... I CANT??😭😭 HE'S SO CARING ABOUT THE HAPPINESS OF OTHERS BECAUSE THATS AN EMOTION HE RARELY FELT SO HE VIEWS IT AS THE MOST PRECIOUS FEELING ??

but sadness and partings and goodbyes..."harms happiness", thats why he just created a world where it never exists... He's not just doing it for his own desires KSJAKDJWKD plus if "all dreams come true" none of the previous overblots wouldve occured and they'll live a peaceful life... but living that way would stagnate their growth... they'll be living the same life repeatedly without any improvements towards themselves

that's why even if Malleus' overblot stems from a good intention, his vision is not applicable to a human life as we all require growing up, overcoming hardships, admitting our mistakes and developing out from that... Those painful feelings are what makes a human life more meaningful and allows a person to give themselves a genuine good life. 🥲🥲🥲

But Malleus who's still in the state of "learning to be human", he cannot naturally perceive that kind of moral.

I just hope that after Book 7 there's no narrative implication that Malleus' coping was flat out purely wrong lol Bcs as Yuu said, everyone wishes they won't lose anyone important to them either...

Going back to the fact that he feels responsible for the happiness of others... I think Malleus lives his life very literally...

I think it was Lilia who said this...(?) That Malleus' power (or the Draconia's power in general) gives happiness to the people of Briar Valley (as their power can protect the dark faes) 🥲✨

Maybe this is the reason why he's "so desperate" in keeping the happiness of others and also giving them blessings that'll surely make them happy...

Okay separate theory... Maybe I'm just overthinking lol But the occurence of "falling" in TWST is so fascinating to me since thats a heavy reference to "Alice Falling In Wonderland" yk

Book 6 we already had Idia falling to the Underworld because he wants to follow Ortho, There's this implication that Overblots "falling to a deep sleep/darkness" thats why all overblotees "wakes up after their own overblot... I wonder if Overblot Malleus will take a fall as well??? His overblot title is "The King of Abyss" but I doubt that the "timeless Sage Island" is the abyss yk? What if we actually learn about the origin of Overblots through Malleus Overblot?

Because in the trailer we can see him snapping out in awareness(waking up) before he's trapped in thorns in what seems to be an Abyss--- So maybe, we won't defeat Malleus Overblot bcs he'll wake up from it (presumeably once he realizes that his overblot caused Lilia and the others pain???) but him breaking his overblot wont be possible bcs the "darkness" will engulf him of smth

I'm thinking of this because the existence of Overblot is so weird. General Lilia should've recognized the blot when it was taking Silver because of his despair since before Leona's overblot, he knew the vibes of whats occuring yk and same thing with Malleus with how he knew that he's planning to overblot, plus he knows the existence of STYX whos focused on overblot too

But strangely, the mages of the past (Meleanor and Knight of Dawn even Lilia and Baul) dont seem to possess any magic limitations concerning blot accumulation, additionally they dont even have magestones (that they use to gauge their blot consumption like NRC pens). Which makes me think that "blot or overblot" was not a "trait" that existed naturally in mages???

Since TWST world's history is implied to be changed... I wonder if blot existence was something that "a being" made up/cursed upon all mages lol

Idk where Im going with this tbhhhh ajsjaj but I just think its suspicious that only human magicians is heavily concerned with blot accumulation... whereas Malleus and Lilia never worries about using magic too much...

So wild guess, maybe Maleficia (since shes the only powerful person here lol) cursed "magic in general" so humans will never be on par with fae's magical abilities no matter how hard they develop it

Ig its to never repeat the "occurence of another Knight of Dawn" who's magic is even stronger than faes since he has no limitation so she created blot to curse humans to limit their magic else they'll fall into "darkness" idk

[badsongpetey]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

The Water Guardian (aka Cryptid Keith AU) Part 7

Keith’s cave is, well, Lance wouldn’t call it homey, but it’s not what he was expecting, whatever that was. Set off to the side of the waterfall, still close but far enough away to avoid the spray that surrounds it, the cave is dry, and warm, and remarkably clean. The stone floor smooth and polished from what looks like decades, maybe even centuries of wear.

A simple wooden table and chairs line up against one of the walls, and an equally simple bed piled with a few old quilts stands in the back. There are no pictures on the walls, but carvings made of wood and stone fill alcoves carved out of the stone walls of the cave itself.

Keith raises his hand and a sphere of bluish white light forms over his palm and rises gracefully to hover near the ceiling, illuminating the space fully. Well, that’s convenient.

Keith walks to the back of the cave, and bends over to open a chest at the foot of the bed. “My books are here.” He says by way of invitation.

It feels odd to be in what is clearly Keith’s home, but Keith seems cool about it, so Lance tries to be nonchalant. “Nice, ah, cave.”

Keith grunts and squats next to the chest, lifting out some of the books within.

Lance leans over. The chest is old, but well cared for. A couple dozen hard cover books are stacked neatly inside, next to some smaller carved wooden boxes, some wrapped in old linens.

Lance glances at the spines of the books he can see: There’s Jane Austen, Dickens, H.G. Wells, Jules Verne, Thoreau, Conan Doyle, Mark Twain, Brontë, Lewis Carroll, Bram Stoker. Keith hands Lance a book and he looks down to see it’s an old copy of “Treasure Island”. A really old copy.

He sits down at the small table to examine it. He carefully turns the yellowed pages, not wanting to damage Keith’s prized possessions. This book looks more like an antique than something a person would keep on their nightstand. All the books Keith has look old. Doesn’t look like he has a single author from the 20th century even. Keith said they belonged to his dad, was he some kind of collector?

“Have you read it?” Keith asks him, nodding at the book in front of Lance.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Lance answers, “I think we read it back in 6th or 7th grade. I remember thinking it would be cool to be a pirate.” He smiles.

Keith hums and returns to sorting through his stash.

Lance takes another good look around the space. Now that he’s thinking about it, everything here looks old. And not the normal “this belongs to my parents or grandparents old”, but an “I found this at an estate sale at some haunted old mansion” kind of old. The only things that don’t look like antiques are the carvings of animals and birds that fill the shelves notched into the walls.

They look hand made, which makes sense, it’s not like there’s a mall nearby. Lance picks up a small wooden rabbit from the shelf next to the table. It’s beautiful work, delicate and realistic, looking like it could hop out of his hand at any moment. Keith clearly has other hobbies besides reading.

As he carefully returns the rabbit to its place on the shelf, he notices something he hadn’t before. A small, faded, sepia toned photo of a young couple in a plain sliver frame. Lance lifts it off the shelf and takes a closer look. The couple is dressed in clothing from over a century ago, and posed formally in what looks like a nice living room. The man is handsome and well built, he looks like he’s no stranger to hard work, but has kind eyes. The woman next to him is tall and beautiful, and, fuck, a DEAD RINGER for Keith.

Is this Keith’s mom? Are these his parents? They can’t be, this photo is ancient! But then so are the books, and everything else.

“Keith? Who are these people?” Lance asks, holding out the photo.

Keith glances over, “My parents.”

His parents? But, how…

“What year was this taken?”

Keith shrugs and turns back to the chest.

“You don’t know?”

“What care would I have for human years?” Keith responds without looking up.

Bah, this idiot is FRUSTRATING. But still, if this photo and the books are as old as they look… “Keith, how long have you been here?”

Keith is idly sorting through the books in the chest, clearly avoiding having to look at Lance. “A while.”

Lance huffs in exasperation, “How much of a while?”

“It’s not important.”

“Humor me.”

Keith sighs, “Maybe, ninety turns of the seasons?”

Lance sits back. NINETY YEARS? Keith’s at least ninety years old! He looks no older than Lance. Of course, he’s not a human, and who knows how long a dragon is supposed to live. Forever?

Still it’s a long time to live in this cave all alone. Geez, has he been alone this whole time? No wonder he wanted Lance to come back.

“Has it always just been you here to guard the waterfall?” Lance asks.

“Mostly.” Keith answers softly, still speaking into the chest.

“Did your mom live here too?”

Keith drops the lid of the chest down with a crash, standing abruptly. “You’ve seen the books, so we’re done here.” He spats.

Oh crap, too far. “I, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. I just wanted to get to know you.”

Keith is silent, glaring at the exit, waiting for Lance to get out he supposes.

“I could get you more books. If you want.” Lance offers, hoping Keith takes it as the olive branch it is.

Keith shifts his gaze to Lance. “More books?”

“Well, you can’t think that this is all there is?” Lance chuckles, gesturing at the chest.

Keith looks down, “I don’t think much about it. This is what I have.”

Lance is suddenly overwhelmed with compassion. Hell, poor kid, stuck out here for a century with the same handful of books to keep him entertained.

“Well, yeah!” Lance smiles, “Of course there are more. Thousands more! Look!”

Lance grabs his phone and thumbs quickly to find his book app, bringing up one of the few downloaded books he has and shoves it in Keith’s face.

Keith squints looking confused, then focuses, his eyes growing wider by the second.

“This is a book??” He points to the phone in astonishment.

Lance nods enthusiastically. “Yup!”

Keith blows out an audible breath as he looks again at the phone. “I don’t know this story.”

“There are a lot of stories you don’t know.” Lance laughs. “But I can bring you them.”

Keith’s eyes are impossibly even wider when he looks back at Lance. “You could get books? For me?”

Lance scoffs, “Yeah, no problem! I’ve got a few and I can stop by the library. Seems like you enjoy adventure and fantasy stories, me too, I’ll bring some back next time I come.”

“Next time?” Keith asks, suddenly shy.

Oh lord, this guy… “Yes, next time. I mean, I’ve been a guest in your… cave, I figure we’re friends now.”

“Friends?” Keith repeats warily.

Shit, did he read this wrong? Just when he thought that maybe he was getting the hang of it. “I mean, if you don’t want me to, I don’t have to…”

“No!” Keith practically yells, “I… I want you to. Come back… bring books…” he looks down, “be friends.”

“Friends then.” Lance confirms with a grin.