#so he could actually learn a lot from her

[2b4st4r]

i've been loving the stories you put out and just saw you opened your requests, so i'd be super excited to see you write this!

Reader is a female marine and asked to join the strawhats undercover so she could win their trust and bring them to the government.

she fits right in and feels actually accepted for the first time in her life, and struggles more and more with the fact that she‘s supposed to betray them.

She falls in love with zoro along the way and the night she realizes that, she leaves, leaving only a note to tell them the truth about who she is and how she’s sorry for lying to them. she wants to face her punishment from the marines and ends up in prison for treason.

they show up to rescue her, luffy asks her if she wants to joyn the crew and her and zoro end up together. (maybe some smut where he makes her apologize for leaving)

Hope you like it and have fun writing!

⋆✴︎Oath of the Sea ✴︎˚

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Strawhat Pirates x Reader

MINORS DNI

˙⋆✮ Words: 17,167

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Warnings: Graphic violance, injury, torture(interrogation), emotional manipulation, control, past of child solider, trauma, eventual smut, praise, male and female, female reader, use of y/n.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! i know i wrote a lot.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The relentless sun beat down on Marineford, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. "Undercover," the Vice Admiral had stated, his voice a low rumble. "You'll embed yourself with the Straw Hat Pirates. Gain their trust, learn their weaknesses, and when the time is right, deliver them to us." The words were a cold, calculated strike, each one echoing the years you'd dedicated to the Marines. You were Y/N, a prodigy in infiltration and espionage, a ghost in the shadows who could charm a pirate king and dismantle an empire with a whisper. This was your life, your purpose. You weren't supposed to care.

But it didn't go that way.

The Straw Hats. They had welcomed you, a stranger, with open arms and boisterous laughter. As their quartermaster, your days became a whirlwind of balancing supplies, managing inventory, and ensuring the Going Merry – and later, the Thousand Sunny – was always shipshape. It was a role you excelled at, bringing a meticulous order to their charming chaos.

Luffy, their captain, a force of nature wrapped in a rubber body, saw only the good in you, his unwavering trust a constant, disarming warmth. Zoro, the taciturn swordsman, grunted his approval during training sessions, a silent respect forging a bond between two formidable fighters. Nami, the navigator with a quick wit and an even quicker temper, taught you the intricacies of the Grand Line's unpredictable weather, her sharp mind a match for your own. Usopp, the cowardly sniper, confided in you his wildest dreams and deepest fears, his vulnerability pulling at a thread you didn't know existed. Sanji, the lovesick chef, cooked you meals that were more works of art than sustenance, his devotion to the crew evident in every dish. Chopper, the adorable doctor, would often snuggle up to you during night watches, his innocent trust a painful reminder of your deception. Robin, the quiet archaeologist, shared ancient tales and thoughtful insights, her calm wisdom a soothing presence. Franky, the eccentric shipwright, reveled in showing you his latest "super" inventions, his boundless enthusiasm infectious. Brook, the musical skeleton, entertained you with his bizarre jokes and soulful tunes, his appreciation for life infectious even in undeath. And Jinbe, the newest addition, extended a paternal warmth, his wise counsel a steady anchor in the unpredictable seas.

They were your crew. Your family. And you, the marine agent, the one sent to betray them, had fallen irrevocably in love. Every shared laugh, every desperate battle, every quiet moment under the vast, star-strewn sky had chipped away at your resolve, replacing it with a loyalty you never anticipated. The mission, once your sole focus, now felt like a lead weight in your stomach, a ticking time bomb threatening to shatter the most precious thing you’d ever known.

The weight of your deception pressed down on you, a physical ache in your chest that no amount of sea air could alleviate. Guilt, a bitter, unfamiliar taste, coated your tongue with every shared laugh, every late-night watch, every moment of genuine connection. You were a phantom limb, an integral part of their crew, yet entirely separate, living a lie that threatened to unravel everything. How could you, the consummate professional, the one who prided herself on emotional detachment, have allowed this to happen? How could you have fallen for the very people you were tasked to destroy?

A Heavy Heart Among Friends

Luffy was the most dangerous, not because of his power, but because of his boundless, unwavering trust. He’d often throw an arm around your shoulders, a wide, infectious grin on his face as he declared, "Y/N, you're the best quartermaster! We're so lucky to have you!" Each declaration was a fresh wound, twisting the knife of your betrayal. You remembered one sweltering afternoon, he’d insisted on helping you reorganize the storage room, humming off-key sea shanties and joyfully tossing crates around. You’d laughed, a genuine, unforced sound, as he nearly toppled a stack of barrels. In that moment, you weren't an undercover agent; you were simply Y/N, part of his absurd, wonderful crew. The thought of delivering him to a cage, of extinguishing that vibrant spark, made your stomach clench.

Zoro. With him, the guilt was a different beast entirely, tinged with a confusing, exhilarating warmth. Your initial interactions had been terse, a mutual respect forged in shared training sessions. But as the days bled into weeks, those grunts turned into low murmurs, and the silent understanding morphed into something undeniably deeper. You’d often find yourselves on the deck late at night, the only sounds the creak of the ship and the gentle lapping of waves. One night, after a particularly grueling session where you’d both pushed each other to your limits, he’d simply leaned against the mast beside you, his presence a comforting weight. "You're strong, Y/N," he’d mumbled, his voice rough. Your heart had done a strange flip, and you’d found yourself leaning slightly into his space, the unspoken current between you almost palpable. He was a man of few words, but his actions spoke volumes – the way he’d subtly position himself between you and potential threats, the almost imperceptible softening of his gaze when he looked at you. You knew, with a terrifying certainty, that you were falling for him, and the idea of shattering that nascent trust, of seeing the betrayal in his eyes, was a torment you weren't sure you could bear. Your duty demanded you deliver him, but every fiber of your being screamed to protect him.

Nami, sharp and perceptive, occasionally gave you a look that made your blood run cold, as if she could see right through your carefully constructed facade. Yet, she also shared her dreams of mapping the world, her vulnerabilities, and her fierce protectiveness of the crew. You remembered her meticulously drawing a new section of their map, her brow furrowed in concentration. "It's a big world, Y/N," she'd said, "and we're going to see all of it." The sheer joy and ambition in her voice made you wince, thinking of the maps she'd never finish if you succeeded in your mission.

Usopp, despite his dramatics, had an earnest heart. He’d often come to you with his latest invention ideas, eyes wide with excitement. You’d patiently listen, offering practical advice and genuine encouragement, something he seemed to genuinely appreciate. He saw you as a friend, a steady presence, and the thought of destroying that innocent belief was a cruel twist of the knife.

Sanji, ever the gentleman, treated you with an almost deferential respect, always ensuring your plate was full and your glass never empty. He’d frequently offer you special desserts, a silent offering of his care. You knew his loyalty to his friends was absolute, and the idea of being the one to tear his world apart, to break his trust in such a fundamental way, was horrifying.

Chopper, with his innocent, trusting nature, burrowed deep into your heart. He often came to you for comfort after a particularly scary encounter, burying his face in your side. You'd gently stroke his fur, the warmth of his small body a stark contrast to the icy dread in your own. How could you hurt something so pure, so utterly vulnerable?

Robin, with her quiet wisdom and discerning eyes, seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to see beyond facades. Yet, she always treated you with a serene acceptance, sharing tales of history and offering insightful observations. There were moments when her gaze lingered on you, a knowing glint in her eye, and you’d brace yourself, certain she’d uncovered your secret. But she never spoke of it, and her continued kindness only deepened your internal conflict.

Franky, boisterous and unapologetically eccentric, brought a surge of energy to the ship. He’d often show off his latest “SUPER!” upgrades to the Sunny, his enthusiasm infectious. You found yourself genuinely admiring his passion and dedication to the ship, the very vessel you were supposed to lead to its capture.

Brook, with his gags and his music, was a constant source of amusement. He’d often play a song just for you, his skeletal fingers dancing across the strings. You’d find yourself swaying to the rhythm, momentarily forgetting the grim reality of your situation. He was so full of life, despite being undead, and the thought of silencing his music forever was a bitter pill to swallow.

Jinbe, the stoic yet profoundly kind fish-man, offered a quiet strength and wisdom. He treated you with the same deep respect he showed to all his nakama. You remembered him offering you advice during a particularly difficult storm, his calm voice a steadying presence amidst the chaos. He saw you as a valuable member of the crew, and betraying that earned trust felt like a moral failing of monumental proportions.

It was during a routine supply run on a bustling island port, the vibrant sounds and smells assaulting your senses, that the full weight of your duty crashed down. Luffy, Zoro, and Usopp were off exploring a local market, their laughter echoing in the distance. Nami was haggling over prices with a merchant, her voice carrying across the square. You were meticulously checking a manifest, ensuring all the ordered provisions were accounted for, when a familiar marine uniform caught your eye. A low-ranking officer, one you vaguely recognized from your time at Marineford, walked past, completely oblivious to your presence.

In that moment, the two worlds you inhabited collided with sickening force. Here, you were Y/N, the Straw Hats’ quartermaster, surrounded by the lively chaos of your crew, a warmth spreading through you that you never knew you craved. But that marine, that uniform, was a stark reminder of who you truly were, of the mission that had brought you here, of the life you had carefully constructed and were now poised to shatter. The laughter of your friends, once a joyous sound, now felt like a taunt, each peal a reminder of the impending destruction you would unleash.

Your hand instinctively went to the small, discreet transponder hidden beneath your sleeve. It was charged, ready. You could send the signal, right now. Alert the fleet. The Straw Hats were scattered, unsuspecting, vulnerable. This was your chance. This was what you had trained for, what you were.

But your fingers trembled, hovering over the activation button. The faces of your crew flashed before your eyes: Luffy’s unshakeable grin, Zoro’s intense gaze, Nami’s knowing smile, Usopp’s wide-eyed wonder, Sanji’s devoted service, Chopper’s innocent trust, Robin’s serene wisdom, Franky’s exuberant "SUPER!", Brook’s soulful music, and Jinbe’s quiet strength. And Zoro… the way his hand had brushed yours earlier that day, the silent acknowledgment in his eyes.

The choice, once so clear, was now a agonizing torment. You were Y/N, the marine, the infiltrator, bound by duty and years of loyalty to the government. But you were also Y/N, the quartermaster, the friend, the person who had grown to love these pirates, this chaotic, beautiful family. One path led to success, promotion, and the fulfillment of your mission. The other… the other led to a betrayal of everything you had unexpectedly come to cherish. The salt tang of the sea air suddenly tasted like ash. You had to choose. And you knew, with a sickening certainty, that no matter what you did, you would never be whole again.

Your breath hitched. The marine officer, engrossed in a conversation with a local vendor, was closer than you liked, his back to you, but his presence was an electric jolt of danger. Your blood ran cold, then roared through your veins. This was it. The moment of truth. You could act now. Deliver them. Fulfill your mission.

But your feet remained rooted to the spot. The manifest in your hand felt impossibly heavy. The vibrant market, moments ago a symphony of life, now seemed to press in on you, every sound amplified, every scent an assault. Your eyes darted around, searching for an escape, a way to disappear. This wasn't how you wanted it to happen, not like this, not with their laughter still ringing in your ears.

Suddenly, a playful shout cut through the tension. "Y/N! Look at this!"

It was Luffy, barreling towards you, a ridiculous, oversized straw hat perched precariously on his head, followed by a chuckling Zoro and an exasperated Usopp. They were oblivious, utterly unaware of the razor's edge you stood on. Panic flared, sharp and immediate. The marine officer might turn. He might see you. He might recognize you.

Without a second thought, you spun on your heel, dragging a bewildered Luffy behind you and ducking behind a towering stack of fish barrels. The stench was overwhelming, but you barely registered it. You pressed yourself against the rough wood, pulling Luffy down with you, his confused "Huh?" muffled against your side. Zoro and Usopp, seeing your sudden movement, quickly followed suit, their faces a mixture of surprise and concern.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Usopp whispered, peering over the barrels.

"Shh!" you hissed, your voice barely audible, your heart hammering against your ribs. You risked a glance around the barrel. The marine officer was still there, now gesturing animatedly at something the vendor was holding. He was so close you could almost feel his presence. Too close. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, the frantic rhythm of your pulse deafening in your ears.

"Did you see something?" Zoro murmured, his hand already on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, his senses always on high alert.

You shook your head, unable to trust your voice. "Just... thought I saw someone I knew," you managed, the lie tasting like ash. You could feel Luffy's curious gaze on you, and for a terrifying second, you thought he might pipe up, blowing your cover. But he remained quiet, sensing the sudden shift in your demeanor.

The minutes stretched into an eternity. Each second was a slow, agonizing drip of dread. You heard the marine officer's footsteps, then his voice, fading as he moved further down the street. You waited, counting to twenty, then thirty, before finally daring to peek out again. He was gone.

A wave of dizzying relief washed over you, so potent it almost buckled your knees. You sagged against the barrels, letting out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"You okay, Y/N?" Luffy asked, his innocent face etched with concern.

You forced a weak smile. "Yeah, Luffy. Just... a little jumpy today, I guess." You pushed yourself up, trying to compose your features, but your hands were still trembling. The close call had rattled you to your core. It was a stark, terrifying reminder of the tightrope you walked, of the constant threat of exposure, and of the irreversible choice that loomed over you. The government was always closer than you thought, and your time was running out.

The near miss in the market didn’t just leave you rattled; it ignited a simmering anxiety that tightened its grip with each passing day. Every unexpected shadow, every distant marine vessel, every new island they anchored at sent a jolt of ice through your veins. The world, once a vibrant tapestry, now felt like a minefield. You found yourself constantly scanning horizons, your senses on high alert, the casual ease you once displayed replaced by a subtle, almost imperceptible tension.

The guilt, a constant, gnawing presence, had morphed from a dull ache into a sharp, relentless pain. It was a suffocating blanket that wrapped around you in the quiet moments, during your solitary watches under the vast, uncaring sky, or when you finally retreated to your small, private corner of the ship. Alone in the dim light, the faces of your unsuspecting crew would swim before your eyes. Luffy’s boundless optimism felt like a mirror reflecting your own cynicism. Nami’s fierce protectiveness of their freedom echoed the chains you were meant to forge for them. Chopper’s innocent trust was a dagger to your heart. You’d clench your fists, digging your nails into your palms, desperate for a physical pain to distract from the emotional torment.

You tried to rationalize it. This is for the greater good. They're pirates, after all. Criminals. But the words rang hollow, thin excuses against the vibrant reality of their laughter, their loyalty, their unwavering belief in each other. You were an elite operative, trained to compartmentalize, to execute without hesitation. Yet, here you were, unraveling, torn between a lifetime of duty and a burgeoning, terrifying love for the very people you were sworn to capture. Sleep offered little respite, haunted by fragmented dreams of Marineford, of chains, and of the accusing eyes of your nakama.

The Kiss Under the Stars

What didn't help, what utterly shattered your carefully constructed walls, were your increasingly undeniable feelings for Zoro. It had started subtly, a shared glance, a comfortable silence, a mutual respect that transcended words. But it had deepened, blossomed into something warm and intoxicating, a dangerous current pulling you further away from your mission.

One particularly serene night, you found yourself on deck, the only sounds the gentle creak of the ship and the rhythmic lapping of the waves. The moon, a silver disc, cast a shimmering path across the water. You were leaning against the railing, lost in thought, the familiar weight of your guilt a heavy presence.

A soft thud of footsteps behind you announced his presence. Zoro. He stopped beside you, mirroring your stance, his broad shoulders a comforting bulwark against the vastness of the sea. The silence stretched between you, not awkward, but companionable, a testament to the unspoken bond you shared.

"Can't sleep?" he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly comfort that sent a shiver down your spine.

You shook your head, gazing out at the endless expanse. "Too much on my mind." You almost confessed, the words teetering on your tongue, the desperate urge to unburden yourself overwhelming. But the habit of secrecy, years ingrained, held them captive.

He didn't press. Instead, he simply stood there, his presence a quiet anchor. After a long moment, he shifted, turning to face you. His hand reached out, gently, almost hesitantly, and cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, sending an electric jolt through you. His eyes, usually so sharp and stoic, were softened by the moonlight, reflecting a depth of understanding that stole your breath.

"You carry a lot, Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I can see it."

His words, simple and direct, pierced through your defenses. He saw you, truly saw the burden you carried, even if he didn't know its true nature. A tremor ran through you, and your own hand instinctively reached up, covering his on your cheek. His gaze dropped to your lips, and the air between you thickened, charged with an undeniable pull.

Then, slowly, he leaned in. His lips, surprisingly soft, met yours. It was a tentative kiss at first, a brush, a question. But then it deepened, a surge of raw emotion, of longing, of a connection that felt both inevitable and impossibly fragile. You responded with a desperation you hadn't known you possessed, pouring all the unspoken words, all the hidden emotions, all the aching loneliness of your deception into that single, profound moment. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his strong body, and you tangled your fingers in his moss-green hair, clinging to him as if he were your only lifeline in a storm.

When he finally pulled away, breathless, his forehead rested against yours. His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours. "Good night, Y/N," he whispered, a promise in his voice, before pressing one last soft kiss to your forehead and retreating.

You stumbled back to your room, your legs wobbly, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The kiss, the warmth of his hand, the searing intensity of his gaze – it all replayed in your mind, a dizzying, beautiful whirlwind. You sank onto your bunk, clutching your chest, the ghost of his lips still tingling on yours.

And then, with a terrifying clarity that felt like a punch to the gut, the realization hit you. It wasn't just physical attraction. It wasn't just respect or admiration. It was something far deeper, far more dangerous.

You were in love with Roronoa Zoro.

The confession, silent and shocking, echoed in the confines of your small room. You, the marine, the infiltrator, the one who prided herself on detachment, had fallen irrevocably in love with a pirate. Not just any pirate, but one of the Straw Hats, one of the very targets you were meant to bring down.

The guilt, already a monstrous weight, became a crushing, suffocating force. How could you do this to him? How could you betray someone you loved, someone who looked at you with such depth and understanding? The mission, once your entire world, now felt like a monstrous, soul-destroying act. You lay there, staring into the darkness, the image of Zoro's face superimposed on the cold, unforgiving command of your superiors. The choice that loomed before you was no longer just about duty; it was about destroying your own heart.

The decision solidified in the quiet desperation of your bunk, the moonlight casting long, accusing shadows across your face. You couldn't do it. You couldn't betray him. You couldn't betray them. The thought of seeing Zoro's face, etched with the pain of your deception, was a torment worse than any punishment the Marines could inflict. Your heart, once a meticulously guarded vault, had been irrevocably breached. The love you felt for Zoro, for the entire Straw Hat crew, was too profound, too real to sacrifice for a mission that now felt utterly meaningless.

The only way to protect them, to spare them the agonizing truth of your betrayal at your own hands, was to remove yourself from the equation entirely. You would disappear. Face the music alone.

With trembling hands, you found a scrap of paper and a pen. The words wouldn’t come easily, each one a fresh stab of pain. How do you apologize for a lie that had become your entire existence among them? How do you explain a love born from deceit?

My dearest Straw Hats,

If you're reading this, it means I'm gone. I know this will hurt, and for that, I am truly, deeply sorry. There's no easy way to say this, so I will be direct: I am a Marine. I was sent to infiltrate your crew, to gain your trust, and to ultimately deliver you to the government

But it didn't go as planned. You took me in, you loved me, you made me a part of your family. And somewhere along the way, I… I fell in love with you all. With your boundless spirit, your unwavering loyalty, your dreams.

Especially you, Zoro. You saw something in me I didn't even know was there. I'm so sorry. I couldn't betray you. I just couldn't.

i know this doesn't excuse my actions, or the lies I told. I don't expect forgiveness. I only hope, one day, you might understand why I had to leave this way. I choose to face my own consequences, whatever they may be. Please, live freely. Chase your dreams. And know that despite everything, I will always cherish the time I had with you.

Goodbye,

Y/N

You folded the note carefully, your vision blurred by unshed tears. With a heavy heart, you placed it on the dining table, securing it with a small, smooth stone you’d picked up on an earlier island – a meaningless trinket, now imbued with the unbearable weight of your goodbye.

Slipping silently from the ship, the chill of the predawn air a stark contrast to the burning pain in your chest, you rowed a small dinghy towards the distant lights of a Marine port. Each stroke of the oars was a final, agonizing severing of the ties that bound you to the Straw Hats. You were choosing your own chains, a self-imposed sentence to protect those you loved.

The Morning After: A Note and A Broken Crew

The morning light, usually a herald of adventure and laughter on the Thousand Sunny, felt muted, almost mournful. Sanji was the first awake, heading to the galley to prepare breakfast, the rhythmic clatter of pots and pans usually filling the air. But today, a strange quiet hung over the ship.

He noticed it first: a small, folded piece of paper on the dining table, held down by a stone. A frown creased his brow. It wasn't like Y/N to leave things out of place. He picked it up, his eyes scanning the familiar handwriting. As he read, his expression slowly shifted, a look of disbelief giving way to a horrified understanding. The plate he was holding slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor with a deafening crash.

The noise drew the others. Nami, rubbing sleep from her eyes, entered first, followed by Usopp, then Chopper. Luffy burst in, cheerful as ever. "Sanji! What's for breakfast? I'm starving!"

Sanji stood frozen, the note clutched in his trembling hand, his face pale as death. "Y/N… she's gone." His voice was a raw whisper.

Nami rushed forward, snatching the note from his grasp. Her eyes widened with each line, her usual fiery spirit replaced by a growing horror. "No… no way…" she whispered, her hand rising to cover her mouth.

Usopp peered over her shoulder, his eyes darting between the words. "A Marine… undercover?" His voice was a thin thread of disbelief.

Luffy, his cheerful demeanor evaporating, looked from face to face, sensing the shift in the air. "What's wrong? Where's Y/N?"

It was Zoro who walked in then, a strange, heavy feeling settling in his gut. He saw the note, saw the shattered plate, saw the devastated faces of his crew. His gaze fell on Nami, who was now openly trembling, tears welling in her eyes. "What's going on?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Nami slowly held out the note, her hand shaking so violently that it almost fell. Zoro took it, his eyes narrowing as he read. With each word, the blood drained from his face, leaving it ashen. "A Marine…" His voice was barely a whisper, the last word a choked sound of disbelief and pain. He reached the part about him, his name, his eyes widening. I couldn't betray you. I just couldn't. The words hit him like a physical blow, twisting the knife that was already buried deep. The memory of the kiss, warm and real, now felt like a cruel, deceptive dream.

Luffy, finally able to read the last few lines over Zoro's shoulder, felt the air leave his lungs. "Y/N… left?" He stood there, unmoving, his usual boundless energy replaced by a stark, desolate silence. The ship, once filled with their vibrant life, now felt hollow, echoing with an unbearable emptiness. The truth, written in a hand they had come to cherish, ripped through the heart of the Straw Hat Pirates, leaving behind only shock, confusion, and a profound, aching sense of betrayal.

The marine port was exactly as you remembered it, cold and unforgiving. Walking up to the gates, your head held high despite the churning in your stomach, you announced yourself. "I am Y/N. I'm reporting for duty… and to face charges of treason."

The initial confusion of the guards quickly turned to grim satisfaction as your name was confirmed. You were immediately escorted, not to a debriefing room, but directly to a holding cell. Word of your defection, or rather, your failure, traveled fast.

Your former superior, Vice Admiral Ryker, was waiting for you. His office, typically austere, felt even colder now. He was a man with eyes like chipped ice, and a cruel, unyielding reputation. He surveyed you from across his desk, a sneer twisting his thin lips.

"So, the great Y/N returns," he stated, his voice a low, venomous hiss. "And empty-handed, I see. You failed, Agent. Miserably."

"I did not fail to bring them in, sir," you said, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. "I chose not to."

A harsh, humorless laugh escaped him. "A choice? You, an operative of the World Government, made a 'choice'? That's not how this works, Y/N. You defied direct orders. You consorted with criminals. You betrayed your oath." He leaned forward, his eyes boring into yours. "And for that, the consequences will be… severe. Especially considering your unparalleled skills. We can't have our top assets turning rogue, can we?"

You met his gaze, unflinching. "I'm prepared to face my punishment, sir."

"Oh, I assure you, you are not," he purred, a chilling glint in his eye. "Treason. Consorting with pirates. Such a waste of talent. You'll spend a very, very long time in a place where your 'feelings' won't matter. Where every moment will be a stark reminder of your foolish choices. Impel Down is far too good for you, Agent. No, we have a special place for those who betray the trust of the World Government. A place where you'll have plenty of time to reflect on your misplaced affections."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but you showed no outward reaction. You had chosen this. This was your atonement. The doors of the marine prison slammed shut behind you, the echoing clang a stark finality, sealing your fate in a world of stone, iron, and unimaginable regret. Your freedom was gone, but perhaps, in this cold, dark place, you had at least saved the freedom of those you loved.

The cold, sterile room became your world. Days blurred into a relentless cycle of blinding lights, rough hands, and the ceaseless drone of voices demanding answers you wouldn't give. Vice Admiral Ryker, true to his word, ensured your punishment began long before any official sentencing. He believed in breaking wills, not just bodies.

"Tell us what you learned! Their routes! Their weaknesses! Their connections!" Ryker's voice, sharp as a whip, cut through the haze of pain. You sat strapped to a metal chair, your jaw clenched. Your fingers, a throbbing agony, were already a testament to their persistence. They had systematically bent them back, snapping bones with sickening precision, hoping to force a scream, a confession, any sign of weakness. But you bit down on your tongue, tasting blood instead of tears. Each fracture, each searing wave of pain, was a perverse confirmation that your secret, your love for the Straw Hats, remained safe.

"Nothing," you rasped, your voice hoarse, your throat dry. "I told you everything in the note."

A fist slammed into the table, making the metal vibrate. "Lies! You expect us to believe you simply fell in love with pirates, Agent Y/N? You, the most disciplined operative we had?"

You met Ryker's furious gaze, your eyes shadowed but resolute. "I did." The simplicity of the truth was its strongest shield. They tore into you, verbally and physically. Blows rained down, dull aches blooming into blossoming bruises across your ribs and face. Your body screamed, but your mind held firm. You were a vault, and the key was lost somewhere in the warmth of a pirate ship, in the laughter of your friends, in the touch of a certain swordsman. They could shatter every bone in your body, but they couldn't touch the loyalty you now held for the Straw Hats. You had chosen your path, and this pain was merely the cost of that choice.

The Thousand Sunny, usually a vibrant hub of activity, was shrouded in a heavy silence. The breakfast Sanji had been preparing remained untouched, growing cold on the table next to Y/N's note. Hours had passed, yet the shock and confusion had not receded. Each Straw Hat processed the betrayal in their own way, but a common thread of disbelief wove through them all.

Sanji paced the galley, running a hand through his hair, a cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers. "A Marine… all this time?" he muttered, his voice laced with a raw hurt. "And to think… I cooked her every meal… like she was one of us." He slammed a fist onto the counter, his usual chivalry now curdled into a bitter sense of violation.

Nami sat huddled on the deck, clutching the note, her face stained with tears. "She planned to turn us in," she whispered, her voice cracking. "All our maps, our treasures, our dreams… she was going to hand them over." The weight of the deception, the calculated closeness, felt like a personal affront to her trusting nature.

Usopp fiddled nervously with a tool, avoiding eye contact. "It makes sense, in a way," he mumbled, though his voice betrayed his discomfort. "She was always so… capable. Too capable, maybe. But… but she was our friend, right?" The conflict in his voice was clear – the fear of betrayal warring with the memories of shared laughter.

Chopper whimpered, burying his face into Robin's side. "She's not bad, is she, Robin? She wouldn't really hurt us!" His innocent faith was a poignant contrast to the harsh reality of the note.

Franky stood by the ship's helm, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a brooding quiet. "She was super at her job," he said, his voice unusually subdued. "But to lie to us… to the family…" He trailed off, the concept of such a deep betrayal alien to his straightforward nature.

Brook strummed a melancholic chord on his violin. "Even skeletons feel the chill of betrayal, yohoho," he sighed, the forced lightness gone from his tone. "To think she laughed at my jokes, knowing all along..."

Jinbe sat cross-legged, his gaze distant. "The World Government is cunning. To send such an agent…" He closed his eyes. "Her words in the letter… they speak of a true conflict within her. This was not an easy choice for her."

Luffy was unnervingly silent, sitting cross-legged in his usual spot, his straw hat pulled low. His eyes, usually bright with life, were dark, unfocused. The raw, open wound of betrayal was too fresh, too unexpected. He didn't understand deceit. He understood loyalty, nakama, dreams. Y/N had been all of those things. And now…

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken questions, pain, and confusion. Finally, Zoro stood up, his voice cutting through the tension like a sharpened blade. He had re-read the note countless times, his eyes lingering on the words I couldn't betray you. I just couldn't. The pain was a physical ache in his chest, a betrayal so deep it stole his breath. But beneath the hurt, a different emotion simmered – a fierce, protective anger. Not at Y/N, but at the system that had forced her into this impossible position, and at himself for not seeing it sooner.

"She's a Marine," he stated, his voice low and gravelly, "but she didn't turn us in. She chose to face them instead." His eyes swept over the crew. "She put herself in a cage to protect us."

Nami looked up, tears still tracking paths on her cheeks. "But… she lied to us, Zoro. All of it was a lie."

"Was it?" Zoro challenged, his gaze hardening. "Did she act like a liar? Did she fight like a liar? Did she care like a liar? She told us in that letter what she felt. She left because she couldn't go through with it."

Luffy slowly raised his head, his dark eyes meeting Zoro's. A flicker of his usual determination began to rekindle in their depths. "She's in trouble," he said, his voice quiet, but firm. "She's a Marine, but she's our Quartermaster."

"They won't go easy on her," Jinbe added, his voice grim. "Especially not after defying a direct order from someone like Ryker. Her punishment will be severe."

A fierce spark ignited in Luffy's eyes, dispelling the last vestiges of his earlier despair. He stood up, slowly, purposefully. "Then we go get her."

Nami gasped. "Luffy, are you crazy?! She's a Marine! And she's in a Marine prison! It's suicide!"

"She's our Y/N!" Luffy declared, his voice rising, imbued with his characteristic conviction. "She chose us! She chose not to betray us! That makes her nakama! And we don't leave nakama behind!" He looked at each of them, his gaze unwavering. "She faced them alone because she thought it was the only way to protect us. But we protect our own."

Zoro's lips curled into a rare, determined grin. "He's right," he said, drawing his swords, the familiar weight in his hands a comfort. "She made her choice. Now we make ours. We're going to break into a Marine prison and get our Quartermaster back."

A wave of understanding, followed by renewed determination, washed over the faces of the Straw Hats. The initial shock and hurt began to recede, replaced by their fierce, unwavering loyalty to one another. The plan was reckless, dangerous, and utterly insane. Which meant, for the Straw Hat Pirates, it was perfectly achievable. Their Quartermaster was in trouble, and they would move heaven and earth to bring her home.

The journey to the Marine stronghold was a blur of determination for the Straw Hats. The Thousand Sunny sliced through the waves, a silent testament to their resolve. Each member was focused, their usual antics replaced by a grim purpose. Luffy, usually bouncing with energy, stood at the helm, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Zoro sharpened his swords with a quiet intensity, Nami meticulously plotted their course, and the rest of the crew prepared for the inevitable confrontation. Their Quartermaster, their friend, was in trouble, and they would not rest until she was free.

Meanwhile, you were confined to a cage within the deepest, most secure levels of the Marine prison. It wasn’t Impel Down, but it was a specialized, high-security facility reserved for high-value Marine defectors and those who posed a unique threat due to their knowledge or skills. Your cell was a stark box of reinforced Seastone bars, designed to nullify any Devil Fruit abilities and restrict even the most formidable of physical strengths. The air was cold, damp, and tasted of stale concrete and despair.

You sat on the hard, narrow cot, your injured hand throbbing, a dull ache in your ribs from the interrogations. Your uniform, once crisp, was now torn and stained, a stark visual representation of your fall from grace. Yet, despite the pain, despite the confinement, a strange sense of peace had settled over you.

You looked at your battered hands, then up at the unforgiving Seastone bars, and felt no regret. Not a single tremor of doubt. When Ryker's furious face, contorted in disgust and rage, flashed in your mind, you simply closed your eyes. He saw you as a failure, a traitor. But in your heart, you knew you had made the only choice you could live with.

The image of Zoro’s face, etched with concern and then tenderness, swam before your eyes. The warmth of his kiss, the brief, stolen moment of connection under the moonlight, was a beacon in the oppressive darkness of your cell. You remembered Luffy’s booming laughter, Nami’s exasperated sighs, Usopp’s frantic boasts, Sanji’s unwavering chivalry, Chopper’s innocent snuggles, Robin’s quiet wisdom, Franky’s "SUPER!" enthusiasm, Brook’s timeless melodies, and Jinbe’s calming presence.

You had sacrificed your career, your freedom, perhaps even your life, for them. And in doing so, you had found a truth more profound than any mission, any duty. You had found a family. And you wouldn’t trade that for anything. The bars of your cage were cold, but your heart felt warm. You had chosen love over loyalty to a system that demanded unquestioning obedience, and for the first time in your life, you felt truly free.

The alarm blared, a jarring cacophony that ripped through the stale prison air. Sirens wailed, and the hurried shouts of Marine officers echoed through the corridors above. You lifted your head, a faint flicker of recognition in your swollen eye. That sound… it could only mean one thing. They had come.

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. Dread warred with a fierce, protective love. You had turned yourself in, endured the beatings, the broken bones, the endless interrogations, precisely so they wouldn't have to deal with this. So they could be free, unburdened by your past. And now, here they were, throwing themselves into the lion's den for you. Fools, you thought, a pang of exasperated affection squeezing your battered heart. Stubborn, wonderful fools.

Footsteps pounded closer, heavy and purposeful. The sounds of fighting erupted, the familiar clang of metal on metal, the explosive force of Devil Fruit powers, and the unmistakable, joyous roar of a certain rubbery captain. Your breath caught. They were real. They were here.

The Seastone door to your cell exploded inward with a deafening crash, showering the antechamber with dust and debris. Standing amidst the chaos, framed by the smoky light of the breached facility, were the Straw Hats.

Luffy stood at the front, his expression a rare mix of fierce determination and shock. Behind him, Zoro gripped his swords, his eyes wide with a terrifying fury. Nami clutched her climatact, her face pale, while Sanji stood poised to strike, a barely contained rage simmering within him. Usopp had his slingshot drawn, though his usual cowardice was momentarily forgotten, replaced by a grim resolve. Chopper hovered anxiously, his tiny paws clenched. Even Robin, usually so composed, looked visibly shaken, and Franky’s "SUPER!" stance was laced with a chilling seriousness. Brook lowered his violin, his hollow eyes fixed on you, and Jinbe's powerful frame seemed to shudder.

Their gazes swept the cell, searching, and then they landed on you.

The air in the chamber seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken horror. You saw their reactions, saw the immediate, visceral punch to their gut. You were worse than you'd thought.

Your face was a canvas of purple and black, one eye swollen shut, the other barely open, a raw slit in the discolored skin. Your nose was undeniably broken, a crooked, swollen mess. A trickle of dried blood crusted your upper lip, and fresh blood still oozed from a gash above your eyebrow. Your clothes were ragged, and a dark stain bloomed over your left side, testament to a particularly nasty blow to your ribs. You tried to force a reassuring smile, but it felt more like a grimace, and the effort sent a jolt of pain through your split lip.

Luffy's determined expression crumbled. "Y/N…?" he breathed, his voice a choked whisper, disbelief battling with a raw, agonizing pain. He took a hesitant step forward, his eyes fixed on your battered face, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Zoro froze. His eyes, usually so sharp and unwavering, widened in unadulterated shock and a horrifying, incandescent rage. The sight of you, broken and bleeding, snapped something inside him. His grip tightened on his swords until his knuckles were white. The image of the woman he had kissed under the moonlight, strong and vibrant, was brutally replaced by this brutalized figure in the cage. A low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest, a primal sound of fury.

Nami gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, tears instantly springing to her eyes. "Oh, Y/N…!" she sobbed, the image of your bruised and swollen face tearing at her heart.

Sanji let out a furious roar. "Those bastards! How dare they!" His chivalrous rage, always potent, now boiled over into a murderous intent.

Chopper screamed, his tiny body trembling. "Y/N! Are you okay?! Your face! Your hand!" He started to sob, his innocent heart unable to process such cruelty inflicted on his friend.

You met their gazes, one by one, your heart swelling with a bittersweet ache. This was why you'd tried to spare them. This raw, open pain on their faces was infinitely worse than any physical torment you had endured.

"Don't look at me like that," you rasped, your voice barely a whisper, a faint attempt at defiance. "I'm fine. Just… a little bruised." You tried to sound casual, but the words were a flimsy veil over the extent of your injuries.

But they weren't listening. Their eyes, filled with a mixture of heartbreak and a terrifying fury, were already calculating. There would be no retreat. They had seen what the Marines had done to you, and the Straw Hats would make them pay. The fight for your freedom had just begun.

The immediate shock on their faces began to give way to action. Zoro was the first to move, his previous frozen fury morphing into a raw, desperate urgency. He strode towards your cage, his swords still clutched, but his eyes fixed on you, a whirlwind of concern and a barely contained rage swirling within their depths. Right behind him, Chopper, his tiny hooves pounding, transformed into his Brain Point, his medical instincts overriding all else.

"Y/N!" Chopper cried, scrambling through the broken cell door. "Your injuries! Are you okay?!" He reached for your hand, his brow furrowed with professional alarm.

Just as Chopper’s small paw closed around your fingers, trying to gently assess the damage, a collective gasp ripped through the Straw Hats. Your hand, which you had instinctively tried to clench into a fist, refused. Your fingers, a grotesque parody of their natural shape, were bent at sickening angles, disgustingly curled inwards, a testament to the Marines' brutal methods. The bones were clearly shattered, some protruding at odd, unnatural points beneath the skin.

Chopper let out a high-pitched shriek, pulling his hand back as if burned. "W-w-what?! Her fingers! They're… they're all… bendy in the wrong places! This is beyond fractured! This is… this is disgusting!" His medical professionalism momentarily gave way to pure, unadulterated horror, and he started to twitch, looking as though he might faint himself.

Usopp, who had been steeling himself, took one look at your hand and dramatically clutched his chest. "GAH! My delicate sensibilities! I'm too weak for such horrors! I think I'm going to faint!" He promptly collapsed backward, his eyes rolling into his head, though one eye twitched open to peek at the unfolding chaos.

Nami, who had already been on the verge of tears, clamped a hand over her mouth, her face turning green. A distinct gagging sound escaped her. "Oh, god! That's just… gnarly! Are they trying to turn her into a pretzel?!"

Even Sanji, usually composed, flinched violently. "My poor Y/N-chan! Her beautiful hands! Those barbarian Marines! I'll cook them until they're charcoal!"

You barely registered their exaggerated reactions, the shock of seeing them momentarily eclipsing the constant throb in your hand. The pain was just… there, a part of you now, like a constant companion. Your one good eye, though heavy-lidded, focused on Luffy and Zoro.

"What are you doing here?" you rasped, your voice rough, a mixture of exasperation and a profound, aching relief. "I turned myself in so you wouldn't have to deal with this."

Before anyone could fully respond, the distant wail of sirens grew louder, closer. The echoes of running feet and shouting voices reverberated through the damaged corridor, signaling the inevitable marine reinforcement.

"They're coming!" Nami shrieked, snapping back to reality, her navigation instincts kicking in.

Without a moment's hesitation, Zoro was by your side. His earlier rage had settled into a terrifyingly calm resolve. Gently, but with practiced ease, he scooped you up. You let out a small, involuntary gasp as your injured hand brushed against him, but he adjusted, cradling your battered form securely on his back. You wrapped your good arm around his neck, leaning into the warmth of his familiar strength, a warmth you hadn't realized how much you'd missed.

"We don't have time!" Zoro barked, turning to face the direction of the approaching Marines. His posture was defensive, protective, a shield against the coming storm.

Sanji, however, couldn't resist a dig. "Oi, Marimo! Be careful with the delicate, hurt lady! She's not a sack of potatoes, you brute!" His words were sharp, but the underlying concern for you was unmistakable.

Zoro merely grunted in response, his eyes narrowed, already calculating their escape route. The Straw Hats were a whirlwind of motion now, preparing for the onslaught. You felt the surge of their combined power, their unwavering loyalty. And despite the pain, despite the fear, a small, genuine smile touched your lips. They were here. And that was all that mattered.

The Straw Hats surged forward, a whirlwind of coordinated chaos. Luffy, extending his arms, became a human slingshot, propelling himself through a cluster of bewildered Marine guards. Sanji's legs blurred, delivering precise, devastating kicks that sent soldiers sprawling. Nami unleashed a small, localized thunderbolt, electrifying a path for them, while Usopp, despite his earlier theatrics, proved surprisingly effective with a rapid-fire volley of pop greens, creating thorny barricades and disorienting bursts of smoke. Brook zipped past, his soul-solid attacks leaving Marines clutching at phantom pains, and Franky's powerful "Strong Right" punched clean holes in the reinforced walls. Jinbe, with his Fish-Man Karate, effortlessly dispatched larger groups, his powerful blows sending shockwaves through the very foundation of the prison.

You clung to Zoro's back, your good arm wrapped tightly around his neck, the rhythm of his powerful strides a strange comfort. He moved with a deadly grace, his three swords a blur of steel, cutting down any Marine foolish enough to step in their path. The world spun, a dizzying mix of pain and the exhilarating rush of freedom.

"Are you okay back there?" Zoro grunted, his voice tight with exertion and concern.

"Just keep moving," you managed, the words a raw whisper against his ear.

They sliced through the lower levels with alarming speed, a force of nature tearing through the supposedly impenetrable prison. Just as they reached the main corridor leading to the exterior, a figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking their path.

It was Vice Admiral Ryker.

His chilling smile stretched across his face, his eyes like chips of ice, reflecting the harsh prison lights. "Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice carrying an unnerving calm amidst the chaos. "Look what the tide dragged in. The infamous Straw Hat Pirates. And to think, you've come for my little pet project."

His right arm, clad in a pristine white glove, suddenly began to shimmer, the very air around it distorting. Ryker possessed the Phase-Phase Fruit, a terrifying Logia-type Devil Fruit that allowed him to make any part of his body intangible and capable of phasing through matter, or conversely, make parts of matter intangible around his body, creating localized voids that could tear through flesh or armor. He could pass through solid objects, or make objects pass through others with devastating effect.

"Don't flatter yourselves," Ryker continued, his eyes lingering on you, a cruel satisfaction in their depths. "This isn't a rescue. It's a capture. And Y/N here? She's the bait." He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "You're all walking right into my trap. And she knows it."

Luffy, his face hardening, stepped forward. "Let her go, old man!"

"Oh, but why would I?" Ryker mused, a taunting glint in his eye. He waved his phased hand dismissively, and a section of the steel floor behind him vanished, creating a sudden, gaping hole. "She's been quite… illuminating. You know, you Straw Hats only know the pretty facade. You have no idea what she truly is. Her loyalty to the government was absolute. She was a child soldier, a weapon forged in the crucible of war, deployed before she even reached double digits. A ruthless little phantom, trained to execute without question. Do you really think she's capable of 'love'?" His gaze raked over you, contempt heavy in his tone. "She helped us crush rebellions, extinguish uprisings, leave no survivors. All before she was even considered an adult. Her hands are just as bloody as any Marine's, if not more so."

Your breath hitched, the sudden revelation of your concealed past hitting the Straw Hats like a physical blow. Their eyes widened, turning to you, a mixture of shock and renewed confusion. You pressed your face into Zoro's shoulder, unable to meet their gaze, the shame and the forced memories burning.

Ryker savored their stunned silence. "She was a master of infiltration, a ghost, a perfect weapon. And you believed her pretty little act? That she simply 'fell in love' with you? Please. It's a testament to her skill, not her heart."

A low growl rumbled from Zoro. His body, carrying your battered form, tensed. His grip on his swords tightened. The words about your past hit him hard, but the cold, dismissive way Ryker spoke about you, about your feelings, ignited a furious protectiveness.

"Shut your damn mouth!" Sanji roared, preparing a kick.

"He's playing with us!" Nami yelled, realizing the psychological warfare Ryker was employing.

But it was Luffy who moved. The taunts about your past, about your supposed inability to love, had pushed him past his breaking point. His eyes, usually innocent, flared with a deep, uncharacteristic anger. He didn't care about your past as a child soldier; he cared about the Y/N who was their quartermaster, the Y/N who chose them, the Y/N bleeding on Zoro's back. Ryker had dared to question your heart, dared to cheapen your sacrifice.

"Gomu Gomu no… RED HAWK!" Luffy roared, his arm stretching back, igniting in a fiery, Gear Second-powered punch. The air around him shimmered with heat as he launched himself directly at Ryker, a blazing meteor of pure, unadulterated fury.

Ryker, confident in his Devil Fruit, phased his body, preparing to let Luffy's attack pass harmlessly through him. But Luffy's Haki-infused punch, coated in flames, wasn't just about physical impact. It was about pure will, a burning inferno of determination.

The Red Hawk slammed into Ryker, not passing through him as he expected, but connecting with a sickening crunch. The Vice Admiral let out a strangled cry, his phased body momentarily solidified by the sheer force of Luffy's Haki. The fiery impact sent him hurtling backward, slamming into the reinforced wall with enough force to crack the steel. He slumped to the ground, unconscious, a smoking crater where he'd landed.

A moment of stunned silence fell over the corridor, broken only by Ryker's pained groans. Luffy stood panting, his arm smoking faintly.

"Let's go!" Zoro barked, already moving, his voice a tight command. "We've got company!" More Marines were pouring into the corridor, drawn by the commotion.

The Straw Hats rallied, a renewed sense of purpose driving them. Luffy had dealt with the mastermind, and now their only goal was to get you out. You felt Ryker's words about your past echoing in your mind, but as you clung to Zoro's back, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your own, you knew. Their actions, their very presence, spoke louder than any words, any painful past. They didn't care about the soldier you were; they cared about the person you became.

The frantic scramble continued. With Ryker down, the Marine resistance, though still formidable, lacked its cruel, strategic leader. The Straw Hats, fueled by a renewed surge of protective fury, moved as a unified, unstoppable force. Sanji and Jinbe cleared the path ahead, their powerful kicks and punches sending Marines flying. Nami conjured a thick fog, disorienting their pursuers, while Usopp set off a barrage of explosive projectiles, creating diversions and bottlenecks. Franky provided heavy cover fire, his beam weapons blasting through obstacles, and Brook’s haunting melodies confused and incapacitated their foes.

You clung to Zoro’s back, your head swimming. The pain was still there, a constant companion, but it was overshadowed by the sheer, overwhelming reality of their presence. They were truly here, risking everything for you. Ryker’s cruel words about your past, about the child soldier you had been, still stung. You felt Zoro’s muscles tense beneath you, his focus unwavering. He didn't ask about Ryker's claims, didn’t demand explanations. He simply moved, his protective embrace a silent reassurance that, no matter your past, you were here, with them.

Luffy, bursting with renewed energy after his decisive blow, led the charge, his infectious grin back in place, though it held a sharper edge now. "Almost there! Just a little further!" he yelled, stretching his arms to grab a distant railing, pulling himself and the nearest Marines forward in a chaotic tangle.

Suddenly, a thick, metallic door slammed shut behind them, sealed by a newly arrived squad of heavily armed Marines. "Dead end!" Nami cried, her voice strained.

"Not for us!" Franky roared, his arms glowing. "Coup de Boo!" With a mighty blast, the Sunny's signature escape maneuver, he blew a colossal hole through the exterior wall of the prison, revealing the vast expanse of the ocean outside.

The roar of the cannon reverberated through the prison, sending tremors through the entire structure. Through the gaping hole, you could see the Thousand Sunny, bobbing expectantly on the waves, a beacon of home.

"To the ship!" Luffy bellowed, already leaping towards the opening.

Zoro followed, a powerful jump carrying him and your weight across the chasm. The rush of salty air against your bruised face was intoxicating, a taste of freedom you hadn't dared to dream of. As he landed agilely on the deck, the rest of the crew quickly followed, each one bringing down any remaining Marine resistance with practiced ease.

Chopper immediately rushed to your side, his small face contorted with professional distress. "Let me see, Y/N! We need to fix those hands and your face! This is an emergency!"

Zoro carefully lowered you to the deck, allowing Chopper to begin his frantic assessment. You looked up at him, your good eye meeting his. His intense gaze was filled with a complex mixture of relief, anger, and something deeper, something akin to reverence. He reached out, his hand hovering over your battered face, as if afraid to touch you.

"You… you came," you whispered, your voice hoarse with emotion, the words catching in your throat.

"Of course, we did, Y/N," Luffy said, already scrambling up the mast, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "You're our nakama!"

Nami, tears still glistening in her eyes, put a gentle hand on your shoulder. "You're an idiot, Y/N," she said, but her voice was soft, laced with undeniable affection. "Turning yourself in like that. What were you thinking?"

You managed a weak, painful smile. "I was thinking… I didn't want you to have to deal with this."

Sanji, carefully stepping over the shattered bits of Marine uniform, lit a fresh cigarette, his face still grim. "Well, you failed at that, Quartermaster-chan. Now we're dealing with it." His words were sharp, but the underlying warmth was unmistakable.

As the Thousand Sunny turned, leaving the now-battered Marine prison behind, you looked back at the receding, imposing structure. The pain in your body was immense, but the ache in your heart had eased considerably. You were battered, broken, and a wanted fugitive in the eyes of the world. But you were free, surrounded by the only family you had ever truly chosen. And for the first time in a long time, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were exactly where you belonged.

The infirmary of the Thousand Sunny was a haven of sterile efficiency, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just escaped. You lay on the crisp white sheets of the medical bed, the gentle rocking of the ship a soothing rhythm beneath you. Chopper, his brow furrowed in intense concentration, bustled around, preparing his instruments. He had already given you something for the pain, but you knew, from the way he was looking at your hand, that it wouldn't be enough.

Zoro sat in the chair pulled close to your bedside, his swords leaning against the wall beside him. He hadn't left your side since you were brought in. His presence was a solid, comforting anchor in the room, his gaze fixed on you with an unwavering intensity that spoke volumes. He didn't speak, but his hand, resting lightly on the edge of your bed, was a silent promise.

"Alright, Y/N," Chopper said, his voice unusually grave, his small hooves meticulously cleaning the dried blood from your face. "This is going to hurt. A lot. Your nose is definitely broken, and those fingers… they're pretty badly displaced. I need to set them back in place before they swell too much." He looked up at you, his large, innocent eyes filled with concern. "Are you ready?"

You took a deep, shaky breath, bracing yourself. "As I'll ever be, Chopper." You glanced at Zoro, and he met your gaze, a silent strength passing between you.

Chopper began with your nose. With a quick, practiced movement, he reset the bone. A sharp, blinding pain shot through your face, and you gasped, a choked cry escaping your lips. Your good eye squeezed shut, tears pricking at the corner.

"Good, good, you're doing great!" Chopper encouraged, his voice surprisingly firm for such a small creature. He moved to your hand, gently, almost reverently, taking your mangled fingers in his. He cleaned the wounds around the breaks, the antiseptic stinging.

"Okay," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "these are going to be loud. Just… try to breathe."

You nodded, clenching your jaw. You felt his small, strong grip on your first finger. There was a sickening crack, a sound that echoed unnervingly in the quiet infirmary, followed by an explosion of white-hot pain that made you arch your back against the bed. You bit down on your lip, a muffled groan escaping.

Zoro's hand, which had been resting on the bed, clenched into a fist. His jaw was tight, a muscle twitching in his cheek. He watched, his eyes narrowed, every flinch of your body mirrored by a subtle tension in his own. He looked like he wanted to rip the world apart, to take the pain away from you.

Another finger. Another crack. Another wave of excruciating agony. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the searing pain. You could feel the bones shifting, grinding, then snapping into place. It was a primal, visceral pain that bypassed all your training, all your discipline.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Each sound was a hammer blow, each movement of Chopper's hooves precise and agonizing. By the time he had finished with the last finger, you were trembling, drenched in a cold sweat, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Your hand, though still throbbing, felt strangely lighter, the grotesque angles gone.

"There," Chopper said, his voice tired but relieved, as he began to meticulously splint and bandage your hand. "All set. It'll take time to heal, but you'll be able to use them again. And your nose will heal straight, too." He looked at you, his eyes filled with a deep, professional pride, and then a profound sadness. "They really… they really hurt you, Y/N."

You could only nod, too exhausted to speak. You slowly opened your good eye, meeting Zoro's gaze. His face was grim, his eyes burning with an unspoken promise of vengeance. He reached out, his large hand gently covering your bandaged one, his touch a comforting warmth that slowly, steadily, began to soothe the lingering echoes of pain. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet hum of the ship and the unwavering presence of the man beside you, you knew you were truly safe.

Chopper, his brow still furrowed with concern, moved with gentle precision. He applied a soothing salve to the raw scrapes on your cheek and jaw, his small hooves surprisingly deft. For your swollen eye, he produced a small, chilled compress, carefully placing it over the puffed skin. The cool relief was instantaneous, a welcome balm to the burning pain.

"Keep this on," he instructed, his voice serious. "It'll help with the swelling. I'll be back to check on you every few hours, okay?" He gave your good hand a gentle squeeze, then turned to Zoro. "Make sure she rests. And don't let her move that hand too much!" With a final, worried glance, the little doctor padded out of the infirmary, leaving the two of you in a soft, expectant silence.

The only sounds were the creak of the ship and the gentle lapping of waves against the hull. You lay there, the coolness of the compress a blessed relief, acutely aware of Zoro’s presence beside you. He remained in the chair, unmoving, his gaze fixed on some unseen point across the room. The air was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of everything that had transpired.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice still a little raspy. "You… you didn't have to do this."

Zoro’s head slowly turned, his dark eyes meeting your one visible one. A muscle worked in his jaw. "Yes, we did," he stated, his voice low, firm, leaving no room for argument. "You're nakama. We don't abandon nakama."

"I lied to you all," you countered, your voice laced with the old guilt, the shame of your deception rising again. "I was a Marine. I came to betray you."

He scoffed, a short, sharp sound. "You were a Marine. And you could've betrayed us. You didn't. You faced them alone. You saved us the trouble of dealing with them in the first place." His gaze intensified. "Ryker said a lot of things. About your past. About… everything." His voice softened almost imperceptibly. "Doesn't matter."

"It does," you whispered, the pain of his words about your past child soldier life suddenly more acute than any physical injury. "My hands… they’re not clean, Zoro. I’ve done terrible things for them."

He reached out, his large, calloused hand gently covering your bandaged one again. His thumb brushed lightly over the splints. "Everyone has a past, Y/N," he said, his voice unusually gentle, cutting through your self-recrimination. "What matters is what you do now. You chose us. You chose not to betray us." His grip tightened slightly. "That’s all that counts."

You searched his eyes, surprised by the depth of his understanding, the unwavering acceptance. He wasn't judging you; he was simply stating a fact. The weight on your chest, a constant pressure for so long, seemed to lift, just a fraction.

"And you…" you began, your voice softer now, your gaze lingering on his face, "You came for me."

His lips quirked into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. "Someone had to drag your stubborn ass out of there." He paused, his expression growing serious again. "You left a note, you idiot. You think we'd just… read it and wave goodbye?" His thumb brushed against your knuckles. "After that… that night… what did you expect?"

Your cheeks, despite your injuries, flushed. He was referring to the kiss, to the moment everything had irrevocably changed for you. You expected him to be angry, confused, maybe even disgusted by your deception. But instead, there was only this quiet, profound acceptance.

"I didn't think…" you started, then trailed off, realizing the futility of explanation. You hadn’t thought; you had simply reacted, driven by the overwhelming need to protect them, and him, from the truth of your mission at your own hand.

He shifted in his chair, leaning closer. His gaze, usually so intense, was now soft, warm, filled with an emotion that mirrored your own. "You're ours now, Y/N," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "For better or worse. And we don't let go of what's ours."

The simple, unyielding declaration, delivered with such quiet conviction, was more potent than any painkiller. It was a promise, a binding vow, echoing the very essence of the Straw Hats' bond. In that moment, lying battered and broken on the infirmary bed, you felt more whole than you ever had in your life.

The words hung in the air, a silent, powerful affirmation of belonging. Zoro's hand, still resting on your bandaged one, conveyed a warmth that seeped into your bones, chasing away the lingering chill of the prison. The pain in your body, though still present, seemed to recede into a distant hum, eclipsed by the profound sense of peace settling over you.

His gaze, dark and steady, searched yours for another long moment, as if ensuring you truly understood, truly accepted, his unspoken vow. Then, with a sudden, fluid motion, he shifted. The chair scraped softly against the floor as he pushed it back, and then, to your surprise, he gently moved onto the bed beside you.

He settled in, carefully avoiding your injured side and battered face, but close enough that his warmth enveloped you. His arm, strong and comforting, slipped around your waist, pulling you gently against his side. The rhythmic beat of his heart resonated against your back, a steady drum of life and presence.

You didn’t resist. You simply melted into his embrace, your good arm instinctively wrapping around his chest, resting over his own steady heartbeat. The faint scent of salt and steel, uniquely his, filled your senses, a familiar and grounding aroma. You nestled your head against his shoulder, feeling the solid comfort of his presence, the protective aura he exuded.

The infirmary, once a place of pain and cold, was suddenly transformed into a sanctuary. All the torment, all the fear, all the guilt that had plagued you for so long, began to dissipate, replaced by a profound, comforting calm. You felt safe, truly safe, for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Under the gentle rocking of the Thousand Sunny, with the familiar sounds of the sea outside and the steady rhythm of Zoro’s breathing beside you, your bruised and aching body found solace. Your eyes, heavy with exhaustion and emotion, slowly drifted closed. In the comforting embrace of the man who had risked everything to bring you home, you both drifted off to sleep, finding a shared, peaceful slumber amidst the stormy seas of your new, uncertain, but undeniably real, life.

The morning sun, filtered through the infirmary's porthole, cast a warm glow on your sleeping forms. You stirred first, the lingering aches in your body a familiar throb, but beneath them, a new, comforting warmth. Zoro's arm was still around you, his breath soft against your hair. You gently disentangled yourself, careful not to wake him, and managed to sit up, a soft groan escaping as your ribs protested.

As if sensing your movement, Zoro shifted, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at you, a soft, sleepy awareness in their depths, before a faint, genuine smile touched his lips. He sat up, stretching, his powerful muscles rippling.

"Feeling better?" he rumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

"A little," you admitted, a small smile touching your own bruised lips. "Thanks to Chopper." And to him, though you left that unspoken for now.

Breakfast on the Sunny

The scent of Sanji's cooking wafted into the infirmary, a tantalizing aroma that pulled you towards the galley. When you walked in, arm linked through Zoro's for support, a hush fell over the crew. Their eyes, filled with a mix of concern and relief, immediately landed on you. Chopper, who was already at the table, let out a relieved squeak.

"Y/N! You're up!" he chirped, hopping down from his chair to trot over to you.

"Morning, Quartermaster-chan!" Sanji greeted, his voice unusually gentle, a plate of perfectly cooked eggs and bacon already being placed before you. "I made your favorite."

You offered a weak smile. "Thanks, Sanji."

As you carefully sat down, the crew began to pepper you with questions and comments, their usual boisterous energy returning, albeit with a softer edge.

"How are your hands, Y/N?" Nami asked, leaning forward, her earlier tears replaced by genuine concern.

"Chopper worked his magic," you replied, holding up your heavily bandaged hand. "It'll be a while, but they'll heal."

"That Vice Admiral got what he deserved!" Usopp declared, puffing out his chest. "No one hurts our nakama!"

"Yohoho! Indeed!" Brook added, tipping his non-existent hat. "It was quite the performance, Y/N-san, making them think you were still with them!"

Franky gave a thumbs-up. "Super tough, Quartermaster! You took a beating and still didn't spill the beans!"

Jinbe nodded sagely. "Your resolve is admirable, Y/N. A testament to true loyalty."

You looked at their faces, at the genuine warmth and acceptance in their eyes, and a profound sense of gratitude washed over you. They weren’t judging you for your past, only celebrating your present choice.

Then, Luffy, who had been quietly stuffing his face, swallowed a huge bite of meat and looked at you, his eyes serious. "Y/N," he began, "we know you said you don't expect forgiveness, and that you're sorry for lying."

Your heart clenched, bracing for a lecture, or perhaps, a difficult conversation about trust.

But Luffy simply grinned, a wide, infectious grin that reached his eyes. "But we decided something. You chose us. You chose to be our friend, our nakama. So we're not mad."

A wave of relief so powerful it almost buckled your knees washed over you.

"We're glad you're here, Y/N," Nami added, her voice soft. "Even if you were a Marine. You're our Quartermaster now."

Zoro, from beside you, simply grunted in agreement, a silent affirmation.

Luffy then leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly, though still clear for everyone to hear. "And since you decided to be with us," he said, "we want to make sure you're really with us. No more running. No more turning yourself in." He paused, looking around at his crew, then back at you. "So, Y/N, we want to ask you something properly."

He took another deep breath, then, with that characteristic Luffy straightforwardness, he declared, "Will you officially join our crew? For real this time. Not as an undercover agent, but as our friend, our nakama, our Quartermaster of the Straw Hat Pirates?"

The question hung in the air, simple yet profound. It wasn't just an invitation; it was an absolution, a complete and utter acceptance of you, past, present, and future. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring the faces of the extraordinary people who had become your everything. You looked at each of them, their expectant smiles, their unwavering support. You looked at Zoro, who met your gaze with a silent strength, a subtle encouragement in his eyes.

"Yes," you whispered, the word thick with emotion, but growing stronger with each breath. "Yes, I will. Thank you. Thank you all."

A cheer erupted around the table, genuine and heartfelt. Luffy laughed, his characteristic joy filling the galley. The Thousand Sunny, now truly your home, sailed on, carrying its newly confirmed Quartermaster towards an unpredictable, but incredibly real, future.

The weeks that followed your official joining of the Straw Hat Pirates were a period of intense healing, both physical and emotional. The initial euphoria of your rescue settled into a comfortable, undeniable reality. You were no longer living a lie, and that freedom, despite the lingering aches, was intoxicating.

True to your nature, you threw yourself into your duties as quartermaster with an almost feverish dedication, often pushing yourself beyond what Chopper advised. Your fractured fingers, though splinted and bandaged, didn't stop you. You learned to adapt, using your good hand and even your teeth when necessary, much to Chopper's exasperation.

You were everywhere, touching every aspect of the ship's well-being.

* You meticulously reorganized the ship's inventory, ensuring every barrel of water, every bag of flour, and every spare part was accounted for and stored efficiently. Even with one hand, you devised a color-coded system for easy identification, earning a grumbling appreciation from Zoro who could finally find things without getting lost.

* You spent hours with Nami, poring over charts and logbooks, sharing your extensive knowledge of Marine supply routes and intelligence gathering, providing invaluable insights into potential dangers and safe harbors. You helped her refine the Sunny's provisioning protocols, making them even more efficient.

* You assisted Franky in the engine room, observing his repairs and maintenance routines, learning the intricacies of the Sunny's magnificent machinery. Even if you couldn't wield a wrench yet, you were there, offering a keen eye and your uncanny ability to spot inefficiencies, often suggesting practical, "super" improvements that Franky eagerly embraced.

* You spent time with Usopp, helping him brainstorm new projectile designs and organizing his workshop, providing a methodical approach to his chaotic creativity. You even managed to sketch out a few technical diagrams for him, holding the pen awkwardly in your good hand.

* You helped Sanji manage the galley's stock, ensuring he never ran out of key ingredients, even anticipating future needs based on upcoming voyages. You found yourself genuinely enjoying his passionate discussions about cuisine, offering surprisingly insightful suggestions for ingredient pairings.

* Even with Brook, you helped organize his sheet music and instruments, ensuring everything was protected from the sea air, taking genuine interest in his vast musical repertoire.

Chopper, though constantly reminding you to rest, found himself increasingly impressed by your resilience and dedication. He'd scold you for overdoing it, but a proud glint was always in his eye. Your devotion to the crew and the ship was undeniable, proving your commitment far more eloquently than any words could.

Your relationship with Zoro deepened with a quiet intensity that bypassed grand gestures. It was forged in shared silences, in stolen glances, and in the unspoken understanding that had bloomed amidst the chaos of your rescue.

He remained a constant, grounding presence. He was often found sitting near you while you worked, sometimes sharpening his swords, sometimes simply watching the horizon, but always within reach. He never pressed you to talk about your past, respecting the boundaries you silently held, but his unwavering acceptance was a constant balm to your still-healing emotional wounds.

One evening, as you sat on the deck, watching the sunset paint the sky in fiery hues, he silently moved to sit beside you, offering you a cup of warm tea that Sanji had specially brewed. You took it with your good hand, the warmth a comforting contrast to the cool evening air.

"How are the hands?" he asked, his voice low.

"Better," you replied, flexing your fingers slightly, wincing imperceptibly. "Still stiff."

He reached out, his calloused thumb gently tracing the edge of your splinted hand. "Don't push yourself too hard," he murmured, his gaze serious. "Chopper's got enough to worry about."

You met his eyes, a soft smile touching your lips. "I just… I want to prove I belong here. That I'm worth it."

His thumb stopped, pressing lightly against your skin. "You don't need to prove anything, Y/N," he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt. "You chose us. That's all the proof we need."

Later that night, as you lay in the infirmary, Chopper having given you a stronger painkiller, Zoro quietly slipped in. He didn't get into the bed this time, but pulled his chair close, settling in for what you thought would be another silent vigil. But instead, he reached out, and gently, carefully, he took your good hand in his, linking your fingers.

"Sleep," he rumbled, his voice a soft command. "I'll be here."

And as you drifted off, the warmth of his hand, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the quiet comfort of his presence were a lullaby more effective than any medicine. His steadfast loyalty, his quiet understanding, and his unwavering acceptance were a constant source of healing, slowly mending the deepest wounds, affirming that in his eyes, and in the heart of the Straw Hat Pirates, you were undeniably home.

The first rays of dawn, filtered through the infirmary's porthole, found you nestled against Zoro's side, your head tucked under his chin. The faint scent of salt and his unique, almost earthy aroma filled your senses. You stretched, a small, contented sigh escaping your lips as the familiar aches in your body seemed less sharp, softened by the warmth of his presence. He stirred, his arm tightening around your waist for a moment before he slowly opened his eyes, a soft, sleepy awareness in their depths. A faint, genuine smile, rare for the swordsman, touched his lips as he looked down at you.

"Morning," he rumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," you whispered back, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the rising sun.

You carefully untangled yourselves from each other, moving with the practiced ease that had developed over the past weeks. Your injured hand, though still bandaged, felt considerably better, and your bruises had faded to an array of faint yellows and purples.

Your relationship with Zoro had, indeed, become an open secret among the crew. There was no grand announcement, no dramatic declaration. It had simply become. Their knowing glances, Nami's subtle smirks, Sanji's exaggerated groans of disgust whenever Zoro was near you, and Luffy's innocent observations ("You two are always together!") had made it abundantly clear. It was a comfortable, quiet understanding that settled over the Sunny like a warm blanket.

The day unfolded, woven with small, intimate moments that spoke volumes of your burgeoning connection.

After breakfast, while the others were scattered about the ship, you found yourself on the deck with Zoro, overseeing the rigging. Your mending hand still limited your ability to do heavy work, but you pointed out fraying ropes and loose knots, explaining the quartermaster's meticulous checks. Zoro, instead of grunting and walking off as he might have with anyone else, actually listened, his eyes following your gestures. When you struggled to reach a particular line, he simply stepped behind you, his large hand gently guiding yours, reaching to secure it with a practiced knot. His warmth pressed against your back, a silent comfort that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Later, when Nami was poring over her maps, trying to decipher a particularly tricky current, you joined her, offering insights from old Marine navigational charts you'd memorized. Zoro, instead of heading to his usual napping spot, leaned against the mast nearby, seemingly just resting, but his gaze occasionally flickered to you, a quiet presence that made you feel effortlessly supported. When Sanji brought out snacks, he made sure to place a small plate of your favorites directly within your reach, a silent acknowledgment of the new dynamic.

In the afternoon, while Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper engaged in a chaotic fishing competition, you found yourself sitting on the grassy deck, sketching designs for improved storage containers. Zoro, as usual, had found a spot nearby to nap, his swords resting beside him. You glanced at him, a soft smile on your face. He looked peaceful, his breathing deep and even. Without thinking, you reached out your good hand and gently brushed a stray strand of moss-green hair from his forehead. His eyes didn't open, but a small, almost imperceptible murmur escaped him, and he shifted slightly, leaning into your touch.

Even during Franky's "SUPER" performance of a new upgrade to the Sunny's cola system, while the rest of the crew cheered and groaned in equal measure, Zoro remained by your side. You leaned against his arm, your laughter bubbling freely as Franky struck a dramatic pose. Zoro's arm subtly shifted to hold you a little closer, his own rare, soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

As evening approached, and the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery oranges and purples, you found yourselves, once again, on the deck. The day had been filled with the ordinary rhythm of life on the Sunny, yet every moment had been subtly underscored by the quiet, comforting presence of your intertwined lives. Zoro, ever the man of few words, simply reached out and took your good hand in his, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. The silence between you was no longer just comfortable; it was profound, filled with unspoken promises and a love that had found its unexpected, undeniable home.

The last vestiges of daylight bled from the sky, leaving behind a canvas of deep indigo scattered with the first hesitant stars. The gentle rocking of the Sunny and the distant murmur of the sea set a tranquil scene, but the air between you and Zoro crackled with a different kind of energy. His thumb continued its slow, hypnotic circles on your hand, a quiet intimacy that sent shivers down your arm.

His gaze, which had been fixed on the horizon, slowly drifted to meet yours. A familiar, almost predatory glint entered his dark eyes, and a slow, teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"You know," he rumbled, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone, "I was still pretty pissed off when I found your note."

You raised an eyebrow, a small, knowing smile playing on your own lips. "Oh really, Swordsman? Pissed off about what, exactly?" You knew perfectly well what he was referring to, the unspoken connection between you electric.

"After we finally..." he paused, his gaze dropping to your lips, then back to your eyes, "had our moment." His thumb moved, tracing the line of your wrist, then slowly, deliberately, up your arm, sending a trail of heat in its wake. "And then you just left. Without a word. That's a pretty low move, Quartermaster." His voice was a playful growl, laced with a warmth that contradicted his mock-indignation.

Your heart quickened its pace. He was no longer just talking about your deception; he was talking about you, about them, about the burgeoning passion that had been cut short. "You're just saying that because you missed me," you teased back, your voice breathy.

His smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, the scent of him – salt, steel, and something uniquely masculine – filling your senses. His other hand came up, gently cupping your uninjured cheek, his thumb brushing over the fading bruise beneath your eye. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. "Or maybe I just don't like unfinished business."

His eyes, dark and intense, were fixed solely on yours, promising a different kind of completion. The distance between your faces was negligible, the air charged with unspoken desire. You didn't need words. You leaned in, meeting him halfway.

Your lips met, soft at first, a question, a rediscovery. Then, as his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his solid frame, the kiss deepened, becoming hungry, urgent. All the pent-up tension, the fear, the relief, the raw emotion of the past weeks, poured into that embrace. Your good hand tangled in his moss-green hair, pulling him closer, while his hand cupped your face, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw.

The world outside the two of you faded. The gentle rocking of the Sunny, the distant sounds of the crew, all became a muted backdrop to the roaring in your ears. His lips moved with a possessive tenderness, tasting of salt and promise. His body, warm and solid against yours, was a haven, and you pressed into him, desperate for more, desperate for the solace and passion he offered. It was a kiss of healing, of forgiveness, and of a future that, for the first time in a long time, felt undeniably, exhilaratingly real.

The kiss deepened, a fervent exploration that devoured the last vestiges of unspoken words. His lips were a demanding warmth, and yours answered with an equal, desperate hunger. His hands, no longer merely cupping your face, began to roam, large and sure, tracing the curves of your back, pulling you closer still. They slid lower, settling on your hips, exerting a gentle pressure that urged your body even tighter against his.

A soft gasp escaped your throat, swallowed by his kiss, as you instinctively responded. Your good hand tightened its grip on the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer still, while your bandaged hand, with surprising determination, found its way to rest against the firm line of his jaw.

With a fluid, almost unconscious movement, you shifted, sliding effortlessly into his lap. Your legs parted, straddling his thighs, and you pressed your core firmly against his, a silent, undeniable declaration of desire. The intimate contact sent a jolt of pure sensation through you, igniting a fire that had long been banked, now roaring to life.

His groan was a low rumble against your lips, a primal sound of raw pleasure and deepening passion. His hands tightened on your hips, holding you firmly in place, sealing the exquisite friction between you. The kiss became more fervent, more demanding, a desperate dance of desire that spoke of weeks of unspoken longing, of a bond forged in peril and cemented by choice. In that moment, there was only the two of you, the rhythm of your breaths, the beating of your hearts, and the intoxicating promise of a love finally given room to burn.

The kiss deepened, a fervent exploration that devoured the last vestiges of unspoken words. His lips were a demanding warmth, and yours answered with an equal, desperate hunger. His hands, no longer merely cupping your face, began to roam, large and sure, tracing the curves of your back, pulling you closer still. They slid lower, settling on your hips, exerting a gentle pressure that urged your body even tighter against his.

A soft gasp escaped your throat, swallowed by his kiss, as you instinctively responded. Your good hand tightened its grip on the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer still, while your bandaged hand, with surprising determination, found its way to rest against the firm line of his jaw.

With a fluid, almost unconscious movement, you shifted, sliding effortlessly into his lap. Your legs parted, straddling his thighs, and you pressed your core firmly against his, a silent, undeniable declaration of desire. The intimate contact sent a jolt of pure sensation through you, igniting a fire that had long been banked, now roaring to life.

His groan was a low rumble against your lips, a primal sound of raw pleasure and deepening passion. His hands tightened on your hips, holding you firmly in place, sealing the exquisite friction between you. The kiss became more fervent, more demanding, a desperate dance of desire that spoke of weeks of unspoken longing, of a bond forged in peril and cemented by choice. In that moment, there was only the two of you, the rhythm of your breaths, the beating of your hearts, and the intoxicating promise of a love finally given room to burn.

His hands, warm and strong, ventured further, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingers traced the sensitive skin of your back before curving around your sides, his thumbs brushing lightly against the undersides of your breasts. A shiver ran through you, and you arched into his touch. With practiced ease, his fingers found the clasp of your bra, a soft click signalling its release.

As his touch continued to ignite a fire within you, your lips left his, trailing a path of fervent kisses down his jawline, along the strong column of his neck. You left small, burning marks in your wake, claiming him, just as he was claiming you. A low moan escaped him as your lips pressed against the sensitive skin just above his collarbone.

Finally, pulling back slightly, your gaze still locked with his, you slid off his lap, gracefully kneeling before him on the soft deck. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your eyes dark with desire. His own eyes, equally heavy-lidded, watched your every move. Without breaking eye contact, your good hand moved, deliberate and slow, to the front of his pants. Your fingers found the fly, and with a suggestive smile, you began to unzip it.

His breath hitched as your fingers worked the zipper, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Your gaze remained locked with his, a silent challenge, a promise. The denim parted, revealing the dark fabric of his boxers beneath. With a slow, deliberate movement, your hand dipped inside, finding the elastic band. You pulled them down, peeling them away, revealing the thick, rigid length that sprang free.

He watched you, his eyes dark with a raw hunger, his body tensing in anticipation. Your fingers brushed against him, an electric current passing between your touch and his skin. You leaned in, letting your lips ghost over his throbbing tip, a feather-light tease that made him gasp. Your tongue flicked out, a quick, hot dart, tasting him, eliciting another groan that vibrated through his core.

Then, slowly, sensually, you opened your mouth, taking him in. The warmth was immediate, overwhelming, a perfect sheath around his thick length. You took him deeper, the exquisite pressure and the slow, deliberate suction drawing another ragged breath from him. Your good hand moved to cup him, stroking him with a gentle rhythm, while your eyes, still fixed on his, watched the pleasure bloom across his face.

You continued to take him in, your mouth working him with a practiced rhythm, each movement a deliberate act of adoration. His hips began to buck instinctively, a low, guttural moan rumbling in his chest as his hands came to rest on your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. The pressure grew, the sensation all-consuming, as you focused solely on his pleasure, drawing him deeper, teasing him with languid movements of your tongue.

The raw intensity of the moment was palpable, a testament to the weeks of unspoken tension and the profound bond that had formed between you. You felt the subtle tremors beginning to rack his powerful frame, his breathing growing shallow and ragged. His fingers tightened in your hair, urging you on, a silent plea for release. You held him there, drawing out the exquisite agony, until finally, with a powerful thrust, he spilled into your mouth, a hot, urgent release that made him gasp your name.

You held him there, savoring the aftermath, until the tremors subsided. Slowly, you pulled away, your lips glistening, a satisfied smile playing on your face. You looked up at him, his eyes heavy-lidded, his chest heaving. He was utterly, deliciously spent.

"Missed me, did you?" you murmured, a playful glint in your eyes, echoing his earlier words.

He let out a soft groan, a mix of exhaustion and profound contentment. His hand reached out, gently pulling you back into his lap, and he rested his forehead against yours. "More than you know, Y/N," he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. And in that moment, for both of you, you were.

He pulled you closer, the warmth of his embrace a soothing comfort after the recent intensity. His lips found yours again, a softer, lingering kiss this time, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache in the most exquisite way. Slowly, his hands began to move, no longer urgent, but deliberate, tracing the curve of your spine before finding the hem of your shirt. With a gentle tug, he began to pull it up, his gaze never leaving yours.

You helped him, raising your arms as he peeled the fabric from your body, revealing your still-bruised skin to the cool evening air. He discarded it to the side, his eyes lingering on the faint discoloration across your ribs, a silent testament to what you had endured. Then, his fingers moved to the waistband of your shorts, slowly, carefully, pushing them down over your hips.

You lifted yourself slightly, allowing him to pull them free. You were left in nothing but your underwear, sitting a few inches from his still-exposed, thick length. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, the air thick with unspoken anticipation.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across his face, that familiar glint returning to his eyes. He reached out, his thumb gently tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "You know," he rumbled, his voice a low, teasing growl, "after you left me hanging like that, and then disappearing without a trace, I think it's only fair you make it up to me." His thumb brushed closer, nearing the sensitive skin of your inner core. "And I think...I know exactly how." His rough hands went to his thick thighs, drumming his fingers on them. “Come on sweetheart, hop on.”

A flush spread across your cheeks, a deep blush staining your face despite the dim light. The sheer audacity, the raw possessiveness in his words, sent a shiver of excitement through you. "Oh, really?" you managed, your voice breathy, your eyes wide with a mix of surprise and undeniable arousal.

You leaned forward, your muscles coiling. With a soft groan, you lifted yourself, just a few inches, positioning yourself over him. Slowly, deliberately, you began to lower, pressing his thick, engorged tip against your warm, waiting entrance. A gasp escaped you both, a shared breath of anticipation as your bodies, finally, met again.

You began to move, a slow, deliberate ascent, your body trembling slightly with a mixture of anticipation and the lingering aches of your recent ordeal. The first inch of his thick length slid inside you, a breathtaking stretch that made you gasp softly. You rose, then descended, a hesitant, shaking rhythm, learning the new landscape of pleasure. Each downward press brought a fresh wave of sensation, a deeper connection that stole your breath.

"That's it, love," Zoro rumbled, his voice a low, husky encouragement in the dim light. His hands, still on your hips, guided your movements, a firm, reassuring pressure. "Just like that, Quartermaster."

His words, simple yet potent, sent a flush through you. To be called "love" by him, after everything, after believing yourself undeserving, was a profound comfort. And "Quartermaster," spoken with such possessive warmth, acknowledged not just your role on the ship, but your place by his side.

You continued to move, slowly at first, then gaining a more confident cadence as your body remembered the rhythm. His hips began to match yours, a subtle thrust upwards meeting your descent, deepening the delicious friction. You leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder, the gentle rocking of the ship mirroring the sway of your bodies. With every slow, deliberate rise and fall, the last vestiges of fear and doubt seemed to dissipate, replaced by the overwhelming, undeniable truth of your connection.

You picked up the pace, your movements growing bolder, faster, as the pleasure coiled tighter within you. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps, mingling with his. With each accelerating thrust, a delicious burn started to spread through your thighs, a welcome ache that intensified the exquisite friction. Your legs began to tremble uncontrollably, a joyful shake that threatened to buckle beneath you.

A deep, guttural groan ripped from Zoro's throat, a raw sound of pure animalistic pleasure that electrified the air. His hands, which had been guiding your hips, suddenly tightened their grip, becoming possessive anchors. With a powerful surge, he began to thrust upwards, meeting your every descent with an eager, demanding force.

The rhythm shifted instantly, becoming fast and rough, a primal dance of bodies colliding with urgent need. Your moans mingled, a desperate symphony of shared pleasure. He drove into you, again and again, pushing you to the edge, the force of his thrusts nearly lifting you from the bed. You arched your back, clinging to his shoulders, your head thrown back as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable crescendo. Every muscle in your body screamed, but it was a glorious agony, a testament to the raw, unbridled passion consuming you both.

The rhythm intensified, a furious, driving beat that consumed them both. Each powerful thrust from Zoro was met by your desperate clench, your combined momentum building into a singular, all-encompassing force. Your breath came in ragged gasps, mingled with his deep groans, as the edges of your vision began to blur. Pleasure, sharp and overwhelming, surged through every nerve ending, making your body hum with an almost unbearable tension.

You cried out, his name a ragged whisper torn from your throat, as the first waves of climax washed over you, powerful and shattering. Your muscles seized, your back arching, as an exquisite release rippled through your core. Zoro roared, a primal sound of pure ecstasy, his body tensing, driving into you with one final, deep thrust as he, too, met his high.

The tremors racked through him, his head falling back against the pillow as he spilled into you, a hot, urgent release. You collapsed onto him, breathless and shaking, your bodies slick with sweat, the last echoes of pleasure vibrating between you. The world spun, then slowly settled, leaving only the sound of your ragged breathing and the gentle creak of the ship. You lay together, limbs entangled, hearts pounding a furious rhythm against each other, utterly spent and profoundly connected.

He shifted beneath you, pulling you impossibly closer until your ear rested against his chest, listening to the frantic tattoo of his heart slowly begin to steady. His hand, still firm on your hip, gave a gentle squeeze. Then, with a tenderness that still had the power to surprise you, he lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, right over the fading bruise.

"You did good, Y/N," he rasped, his voice still thick with spent passion but imbued with a profound sincerity. His words weren't about the act itself, but about everything that had led to this moment: your strength, your choice, your fight.

You let out a shaky sigh, a wave of profound contentment washing over you. Every ache in your body, every lingering bruise, every ghost of your past, seemed to fade into insignificance. All that mattered was the warmth of his skin against yours, the scent of him filling your lungs, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

You simply lay there, nestled in the powerful circle of his arms, your own bandaged hand resting against his bare chest. Your breaths, still heavy and uneven, mingled in the quiet intimacy of the infirmary. The gentle rocking of the Thousand Sunny was a lullaby, a silent promise of endless voyages to come. In that small, shared space, surrounded by the man who had ripped through a prison for you, and by the love that had defied all expectations, you found your true home. The journey had been long, fraught with lies and pain, but here, in his arms, under the quiet hum of the ship, you finally, completely, belonged.

[binmeister]

Quick question how would huntr/x and the saja boy react towards a fem muscle mommy bodyguard reader as like the saja boys bodyguard or something 👀✨

honestly great question, i think it kinda depends on how fem!bodyguard is as a person

dropping some small loose HCs and thoughts on this - no content warning aside from be ware of completely unformatted thoughts below

if fem!bodyguard is a big softie, i think the girls love you and really suck up to you whenever you're at a shared event and checking in on them to make sure they're okay

probably concerned for your well being because it doesnt seem like you're aware of what the saja boys are but if you are aware of them they're like - wait but you're still working for them? and it's a whole little discussion on how you dont particularly care and want to make sure they still feel protected because imo human fans are scarier than demons could ever be

theres a few times that zoey crashes after an energy high and is just knocked out so the girls have flagged you down to ask if you could help them carry her to their car or to help move her to somewhere comfortable and you do so with the utmost care that when zoey learns about it from the girls she keeps staring at you with big adoring eyes like 'wow..!'

i feel like jinu ends up relying on you a lot more than he realises, the presence of a woman + allowing for emotional vulnerability, you'd unintentionally started to actually mother the saja boys during your time working for them and he knows he can trust you with their safety

highkey i am a believer that mystery always seeks you out so you can run your fingers through his hair, like he just likes to plop his head on your muscular thighs and loves the contrast with how your fingers gently comb through his hair

abby adores you as his gym buddy - he might actually be too excitable over it to the point you have to tell him to take a rest day because it's not healthy to go all the time and he argues and complains about it til your voice gets stern and he tenses up like oh.. oh you're like. serious serious.

it's a pretty common thing to witness in the boys' abode where you're picking baby up and scolding him while keeping him in air jail against his will but he's so just dangling there until you finally put him down after he agrees correct his mistake and then you've placed him back down on his feet and straightened out his clothes with a small apology about being rude

......i feel like a vast majority of people can agree that romance is really into it right- like i'm not crazy here- but he is into it, he likes to admire your figure without you knowing and maybe there's a chance that you've opened up to him about your insecurities at being so big and then he's complimenting you more frequently to make sure you understand he appreciates and sees your beauty when you're occasionally feeling a little out of it

a small thought i have is that when you get stern with the guys about them behaving inappropriately as idols a couple of them start to question their preferences because it's extremely attractive to them and then they're avoiding your gaze for the next week or so bc if they stare at you for too long they get flustered

[excusemyobsessions]

had the sweetest lil image of the LIs watching mc in their homes just enjoying her hobbies while wearing their clothes and the LI is all sappy and full of love and affection like “yeah this is what life is for”

originally had this thought for raf bc of his recent myth and then realized it could apply to all of the LIs 🥹

Listen, all of them would find it so so endearing

You know that meme of the groom clutching his pearls? That's our boys

Completely and absolutely smitten, watching your hunched over form, with your glasses hanging off the tip of your nose, in his two sizes too big shirt/cardigan/hoodie

I have no doubt in my mind they'd indulge you in whatever hobby you decide to take on.

Regardless of whether you're a new-hobby-every-month kinda girlie or a long-time-hobby-could-probably-make-money-out-of-this kind.

Zayne is a curious soul by nature so he'll actually join you though he can barely keep his hands off you when you look that cute.

He'd definitely tease you if you're constantly picking up new things.

"I see you seem to have forgotten about the poor crochet snowman half done, on my desk."

But he finds you so refreshing it really is just a lighthearted tease.

He'll help you make sense of instructions and test new things with you. Often he brings his laptop nearby to be around you as he works.

Sylus is quite the provider and he fuels you on. Whatever you're into, he'll provide you with all the materials you need.

He'll drape his coats over your shoulders when it starts getting chilly and you're so deep in whatever you're doing you seem to forget basic necessities.

He sits with you, ever the observant thing, as deep in whatever you're doing as you are.

He's the kind you can ask to help you because you know he'll do it perfectly after a few attempts.

Xavier tries to nap while you're doing your thing but you're so endearing he can't take his eyes off you.

He asks a lot of questions, to understand what you're doing, genuinely interested. You're often surprised he stays awake for so long.

He's the kind to ask if you can teach him or if he can try whatever you're doing.

You learn new techniques/new hobbies together. He'll also join you in workshops or watch tutorials with you.

Caleb brings in his own hobbies into your shared space. You'll sit together and work on your own things, occasionally ask each other how does it look, what you should do differently.

Very very often, you'll find the silence strange and look up and he's just watching you, smiling like a damn fool.

He doesn't try to hide it. You look too cute in his shirt. He'll tell you so several times.

You're highly distracting for Rafayel. Highly distracting. 

How do you expect him to focus on his painting when you look like that?

Focused on your work, utterly oblivious to everything, in a pool of his cardigan.

How is he supposed not to grab his sketchbook and fill more pages with you; your face, your hands, your shoulders.

You catch him measuring your nose with his pencil from afar.

Most of the time he'll ultimately drop everything he's doing to just float around you, watching you. He's inquisitive too. He likes knowing what you're doing.

[bluemantics]

JULANCE DAY 1: GARRISON

“Oh, Lance, you look so tired! And pale. Are you getting time outside, or do they hide you in metal rooms away from the light? You need sun, and rest!”

“Ma—“

“We have paid for you to go to a fancy pilot school! They should be treating you better. I’ll talk to the teachers.”

“I got scholarship—“

“They better not be feeding you slop!”

“Mama, stop!”

A pause settled over the small dorm room, finally giving Lance space to breathe. He sighed, letting his back slope and blinking back the exhaustion that threatened to consume his whole body. Overhead, LED lighting washed out his skin, the effect only enhanced by the shitty camera on his tablet. He leaned back in his desk chair after a moment, embarrassed to have snapped.

“I’m sorry,” he began, apologetically looking away from Maria McClain’s expectant face hovering onscreen. I’m having a great time, Mama.”

The words tasted like a lie.

“Good. I just worry because I love you,” she reminded him, her smile lines tugging into a slight frown. God, Lance hated to see that expression on her face. He mustered up his best plastered-on smile for her benefit.

“Seriously! I’m eating great food. Lots of friends, but it’s only week one, so who knows what’ll happen? And I’m learning loads. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay,” his mom relented, voice quieter. “I miss you. Please call again soon, we all would like it.”

“Even Rachel?” Lance teased.

“Especially Rachel,” she laughed. “Te quiero mucho, hijo.”

“Te quiero,” Lance replied, leaping to end the call. Finally met with a blank, dark screen, he threw his head back and groaned.

A face appeared over his, blinking down at him curiously.

“Gah!” Lance reeled forward in shock, which was a mistake, as it led to him banging his forehead against the other boy’s.

“Ow!” They both shouted in unison. Scrunching his face, Lance rubbed at his forehead and glared at the offender. “Hunk, what are you doing?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Hunk blurted, his lip trembling as he gingerly poked at what would likely become a bruise. “I was just listening— well, that sounds creepy, I’m not a stalker! I promise! It’s hard to believe me ‘cause we’ve only known each other a week, I bet. Just, y’know, I could hear from my bed and I get how it is when moms worry— I have two of them, they worry lots. And I was just wondering why, if you don’t mind—“

“Spit it out, man!” Lance huffed, crossing his arms. Honestly, he hadn’t talked to his roommate, Hunk Garrett, much since they’d started at the Garrison. He hadn’t talked to anyone, really.

It had only been a single week since classes began and Lance had moved into the dorms. In that time, he’d tried his best to make a few connections. Even though they all started at the same time, Lance felt like everyone already had a clique. No one was outright rude to him, save James Griffin (who had actually turned around when Lance introduced himself). Still, he’d been unable to get past a simple “where are you from?”

Anxiety held Lance tight in its clutches without a person to lean on. He hadn’t even had the chance to get to know Hunk because of their alternate orientation schedules, separated by engineer and pilot classes. After the first three days of constantly being kept busy, it just became too awkward for Lance to feel like reintroducing himself. He wasn’t new to sharing a space, but it definitely seemed like Hunk was nervous about it, with the way he ran to the bathrooms to change.

Lance decided he wouldn’t judge Hunk, despite the odd behavior. The Garrison was nothing like the comforts of home, and everything felt strange. Maybe he was an only child.

Now, though, after a week of quietly shuffling around each other, this interruption was very, very strange.

“Why did you lie to your mom?”

Lance blinked at his roommate. He wasn’t expecting that question. “I didn’t lie.”

“You did, though,” Hunk pressed, shifting his weight and looking away from Lance. He twisted his hands. “You said you have a lot of friends.”

“Okay, wow, that’s rude.” Lance blinked, taken off guard.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Hunk quickly changed course. “I’m in the same boat! I… just saw you sitting alone at lunch today. I didn’t realize we have the same lunch, and, um, I’m really, really sick of eating alone.”

A pang struck through Lance’s chest. He connected deeply to that sentiment, even if he was ashamed to be caught in his lies. “Oh, uh, okay.”

“Look, my moms are freaked out about this school. I had to twist arms to get here. I really, really don’t want them to get even more upset if they figure out I’m eating alone,” he rambled, now looking at Lance directly. “We could eat together? Maybe? You could also tell your mom.”

“Yeah! Yeah, okay,” Lance tried to cover up his eagerness, crossing his arms and attempting a nonplussed facade. “Sounds… cool.”

“Cool!” Hunk beamed, sticking out his hand. “Shake on it?”

“You’re funny, Hunk,” Lance decided, shaking his hand with a small, lopsided smile. “It’s a deal.”

Hunk’s hand fit warmly around Lance’s, and something clicked.

“So.” Hunk beamed while he fidgeted with the hem of his uniform. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Garlic knots.”

“Oh, man! We’re totally gonna be friends.”

“Because of garlic knots?”

“Absolutely because of garlic knots.”

The next night, when they had garlic and oil smeared across their hands under the harsh lights in the restricted kitchens, Lance discovered that Hunk was right, and maybe always would be.

[alicelillianshaw]

'Uh-huh. Just because I went to private school and grew up … the way I did … doesn't mean I can't hold my own.'

Alice grins at the surety in his voice, offers another soft elbow in his side. Well. In truth, she was more than certain Jack could handle it— hadn't he spent his whole childhood climbing waterfalls, running around despite the rules?

There was something appealing with that. Her and Jack, stripped down to the essentials. Probably dirty, definitely tired, most likely battling the elements. But the idea of them being a team together. Existing simply in nature. Yeah. Alice liked the idea of that.

"Yeah. We should winter camp, actually. Get icicles on our eyelashes. Collect firewood and have to live off soup packets."

Yankees games. Weird apple doll museums. Winter camping. What else?

She shivers, reflexively, at the idea of a freezing winter camp, feels herself warm right back up when Jack begins to speak.

Eva. His grandmother's name was Eva. Classy. Perpetually put-together. Married to Don, fond of classic films.

'And she's like — the only person in my family that cooks, so I spent a lot of time with her in the kitchen.'

Her lips tug. It made her eyes crinkle— imagining a much younger jack peering up over the kitchen counter, probably elegant marble, or some other fine stone, watching as Eva delicately folded something inside a bowl.

"She sounds so elegant...."

"Is that who you learned to cook from?"

There was something so charming about younger Jack trailing behind her.

'She'd love that you're a writer for the New Yorker. And that you're so beautiful. She'd say that, too.'

Alice laughs, fighting off the foreign, hot, feeling of bashfulness. Eva sounded ... stylish. Composed. Stately. Would she really like Alice? She hopes so. She wants someone like that to think she was worthy of Jack.

"Really? That also sounds like something you would say."

"You're saying you're down to rough it with me?"

Jack was nodding, smiling.

"Uh-huh. Just because I went to private school and grew up … the way I did … doesn't mean I can't hold my own."

In fact, Jack would have enjoyed it tremendously. Camping, or figuring it out in some cheap hostel situation. It would've made him happy to do something like that with Alice, regardless of comfort. As long as she didn't mind some morning stubble from Jack and an unkempt head of hair — he thought it might actually be pretty perfect.

Any moment spent at Alice's side would have been perfect.

Alice placed her phone down, smiling, asking about his grandmother.

"Her name is Eva," Jack began, gently rubbing at her thigh. "She's my grandfather's wife — Don, the one I told you about."

Already, Jack was imagining first introductions, and how utterly charmed Eva would've been by Alice. Alice's smile and the tiny gap in between her front teeth. Beautiful dark hair, and an acclaimed writer, too!

"She's the classiest lady I know. She's been with Don forever. She likes reading and old Hollywood films. I used to watch them with her. I don't think I've ever seen her without make up before, no matter how early I woke up as a kid."

Jack smiled at Alice.

"And she's like — the only person in my family that cooks, so I spent a lot of time with her in the kitchen."

Jack was using his fingers to absently tap at the inside of Alice's knee. Something to keep his hands busy.

"She'd love that you're a writer for the New Yorker. And that you're so beautiful. She'd say that, too."

[chadobi]

When I wasn’t sure if I’d get back into this account, I started writing to calm down a bit, and since I’m obsessed with Bayverse Donnie, I had to let the stress out somehow, haha.

Anyway, hope you guys like it!”

Night at the Museum

Bayverse!Donatello x reader

The mission was supposed to be quick.

In, out, no problem.

Retrieve a stolen tech device that some high-end thief stashed inside a museum exhibit — easy enough. Mikey had already volunteered to stay on comms (a little too eagerly), Leo was on patrol elsewhere, and Raph… well, Raph hated museums.

So it ended up being you and Donnie.

You didn’t mind. Not at all. Actually, you were kind of excited.

It wasn’t every day you got to break into the Museum of Natural History in the middle of the night with a 7-foot-tall mutant genius.

Besides, you liked Donnie. Maybe a little too much.

Maybe a lot too much.

The skylight creaked as Donatello silently dropped down into the dark exhibit hall, scanning the area with a soft whirr from the goggles resting above his eyes.

You followed, landing more clumsily than you meant to, but he steadied you with one large, gentle hand on your back. Just briefly. Just enough to make your heart stumble a little.

The museum was quiet. Dim security lights cast long shadows across the dioramas and display cases. Time felt different here, slower. You could hear your own breath.

Donnie pulled out his modified tech tracker, scanning for the stolen device.

“The signal’s faint, but it’s somewhere in the west wing. Possibly near the biological sciences hall,” he muttered, typing fast. “Shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes.”

You nodded.

Twenty minutes, and then you’d be gone.

That’s what you told yourself.

But twenty minutes turned into thirty. Then forty.

Because the second you passed the ancient civilizations exhibit, you slowed down. Your eyes lit up like stars in a planetarium.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, walking past the glass display of Greek pottery. “This is an actual kylix. That design’s from around 500 BCE- probably used during a symposium.”

Donnie blinked. “A what now?”

You turned to him, grinning. “An ancient drinking party. They’d sit around talking about philosophy and pouring wine. Socrates was probably wasted all the time.”

“…Not how I pictured classical philosophers, but okay.”

He followed you as you drifted from case to case, words tumbling from your mouth without hesitation, the Mongol Empire, Egyptian medicine, early Islamic astronomy. It was like watching someone enter a dream.

You weren’t just reading plaques. You were remembering.

And you were glowing.

Donnie had never seen you like this.

Eventually, the tracker led you both to the natural sciences wing — a darker, quieter section of the museum, lit by the eerie blue glow of underwater exhibits and bone-white casts of ancient skeletons.

The tech you came for was easy to grab. Stashed behind a climate-controlled insect display, tucked inside a fake fern. Donnie secured it in his bag without a second thought.

But neither of you moved to leave.

You were standing frozen in front of the massive glass wall of the biodiversity exhibit, staring up at the suspended skeleton of a blue whale.

“You okay?” Donnie asked softly, stepping up beside you.

“Yeah,” you breathed, eyes wide. “It’s just… I used to come here as a kid. My parents couldn’t afford much, but on discount days, we’d take the subway in and I’d run straight to this hall. I’d pretend I was a scientist.”

Donnie’s chest ached a little.

He looked at you… really looked. The awe on your face. The fire in your eyes. How you stood there with your hoodie half-zipped, looking like someone who had the universe mapped out in her heart and still wanted to learn more.

“You ever consider going into science?” he asked quietly.

“I wanted to. Biology, maybe. But… I don’t know. I was always better at the humanities, philosophy, history, culture. I love systems. How people work. What they believe, and why.” You glanced at him, a little embarrassed. “That probably sounds dumb next to the stuff you do.”

He was silent.

You looked down.

And then…

“Don’t ever do that. Please.”

Your head snapped up.

Donnie was staring at you. His voice was low, almost hoarse.

“I think your brain might actually be hotter than your face. And that’s saying something.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“I mean-” he groaned softly, covering his face with one hand. “That sounded way less weird in my head.”

But you were already smiling.

“Are you flirting with me, Donatello?”

“…Yes?” He peeked through his fingers. “Is it working?”

You stepped closer. “That depends.”

“On?”

“Are you always this into girls who nerd out about dead empires and whale skeletons?”

He chuckled, low and nervous. “Only one, so far.”

Your heart did that annoying skip again.

And you were standing so close now. You could smell the faint scent of metal and coffee on his gear. His brown eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the museum didn’t exist. Just the hush of breath. The hush of maybe.

Then, with a voice barely above a whisper, he added:

“You make me want to learn everything I don’t know. That’s… kind of a superpower.”

That did it.

You reached up, slow, testing, and brushed your fingers along his jaw.

He leaned in like it was gravity.

And in the shadow of ancient bones and glowing dioramas, you kissed him.

You didn’t leave the museum until two hours later.

But Donnie didn’t mind.

Because he’d found what they came for.

And so much more.

[81pastrys]

Unplanned

Part 4 / 5

Summary— The racing season kept Carlos from experiencing a lot of his baby girls first year and he learns that he isn’t attuned to her needs

Warnings— tiny bit of self doubt from Carlos if you squint

A/N— apologies it took so long

Series List

Main Masterlist

The birth timed beautifully with the winter break. Rosa was born a week after it had started, allowing them time to adjust to the new life. They had settled in Monaco with a nursery and master bedroom completed a few days prior to her water breaking.

Now they had gotten settled back in with the newborn, both of them completely confused on how to take care of her. They were given a plethora of information packets and such but most of it was finding their own rhythm.

“She won’t calm down?” Carlos asked, his wife looked tired, exhausted, and overall not happy at the moment. Rosa had been wailing for nearly an hour at this point. She was fed, changed, rocked, but nothing would calm her down. “Come see corazon.” Carlos cooed, taking the baby from his exhausted looking wife.

Carlos tried just rocking her but obviously that didn’t help. His wife took the opportunity to get some rest, leaving him to figure it out. He read so many articles before on newborns and how to actually care for them before the hospital, just to get a general idea.

He gently moved the little girl around to comfortable position for both of them and pat her diaper while cooing Spanish nothings to her. “Sí, mi corazon, te amamos mucho.” (Yes, my love, we love you very much) He got her to die down the sobs to whines and realized she needed a bit more to calm down.

He sat down on the couch and put her next to him, taking off his shirt and her onesie. He grabbed a soft blanket from the opposite side before lying her on his chest, then draping the soft blanket over them. She whined a little more before sighing and completely settled into his warmth.

“Eso es todo bebe.” (That’s it baby.) He continued to pat her bum to sell the deal and got her calmed down for now. His wife emerged a couple hours later to the sight.

She hummed happily and made them both dinner. She also had time to pump for the newborn. Carlos had rested a little, not too deep into sleep as to know if Rosa began to stir. Once his wife was done with her motherly duties she woke him up, keeping a watchful eye on them both.

“Hola cariño, did you rest well?” He asked. She nodded and caressed the newborns head gently. “Just needed some time with her papa I suppose.” He joked lightly.

The racing season was brutal, she chose not to go to all, just their three home races: Monaco, Britain, and Spain. That way they could stay with family or at their own home and she wouldn’t have to worry about hotels and such.

Rosa was a great flier, maybe even enjoyed it. She also enjoyed all the love from her grandparents. Carlos loved having them at the select races and made the most of it with them.

The garage enjoyed their company as well, she was respectful of their space and knew not to be distracting for Carlos. Rosa did not understand this, not even being 1 yet.

“Schatje! I missed you!” Max said quickly walking over. They had just arrived in Silverstone and they were walking into the paddock. Max had been promoted to the Red Bull’s senior team early on so he didn’t see Rosa in the garage.

She babbled happily as he took Rosa from her mum and he bounced and played around. “How’s your German battle going?” She joked. Max rolled his eyes and smiled.

“He’s more fighting his teammate if you ask me.” Max replied. Carlos caught up to his wife, daughter, and ex teammate before the conversation continued— having Been stopped by a Renault member before he could greet them.

“Hola Max.” He said out of breath. Rosa heard the accent and whipped her head around and reached for him. “Ayy, mi corazon.” He smiled. It was a Saturday and they hadn’t seen him yet. Their plane landed the night before but with Carlos already situated in a hotel— they stayed at her parent’s house. “Mi amor.” He greeted his wife with a kiss.

Rosa whined and curled up in his arms more. She wanted the attention on her. Carlos cooed to her and they walked to Toro Rosso. She clung to him like a koala for the time she could.

When his wife tried prying Rosa away so he could change, she lost her mind. His wife couldn’t get her hand to unclench from his team kit and he realized the severity of the situation. “Mi corazon, déjame ir.” (My love, let me go.) He said soft but strict. She listened because it was her papa saying she wasn’t listening.

“Thank you darling, papa will be done in a few hours.” Her mum cooed. She added a few comforting back rubs and her daughter whined and pouted.

All the races they went to were like this. Rosa would cling to Carlos and fuss until he could hold her again. Once the day was over they went back to her parent’s house, it was easier than to let Rosa’s separation anxiety continue.

“Mi corazon, te amo.” He cooed. It was late, he bathed her, changed her, fed her, and was now getting her settled for bed. He had his finger placed over her pacifier so it didn’t slip out as she sleepily suckled. He walked around the dark room until she knocked out, her hand losing its tight grip on his shirt as she drifted off.

He placed her in the travel bassinet and switched the monitor on. He went back out and ate dinner with his in-laws and wife. “She misses you.” His wife said.

“I know, I hate being away.” He pouted. The night went smoothly, no interruptions and peaceful sleep. The next morning she was still asleep when they had to get ready so they took their time to bask in the time they had just the two of them.

“Te amo, Carlos.” She whispered to him, she was cuddled into his chest. He repeated the words and they heard Rosa stir. “Seems like she’s awake.” She giggled. They got out of bed and Carlos grabbed his little girl.

“Buen dia, mi corazon.” (Good morning, my love) He said softly. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed, holding her pacifier to her mouth with one hand and the other gripping his shirt near his shoulder as she woke up.

Once the season ended and he was home she settled more. They invited a few drivers and family to her first birthday. She was confused but loved the sugary food that came with the celebration.

The break went well, no trips, just being at home as a little family. Rosa wasn’t exactly familiar with Carlos’s parenting style as much as her mama’s but she made that clear. Whining to show her dissatisfaction and then her mama coming to correct Carlos.

“Carlos, amor, what are you doing?” He was trying to stack blocks with Rosa but ended up stacking them without her help and she just stared at him. She knew how to do it but in her mind she thought he didn’t.

“We’re stacking blocks.” He said casually. He unstacked them and left them alone for his wife to scold him. Rosa quietly stacked them back and clapped, something her mama used to do. He watched her, not thinking she could do it.

“Carlos, she’s one.” His wife laughed at his surprised face. Rosa babbled and crawled to her mama. “Huh darling, tell papa you can do it by yourself.” She cooed.

“Papa.” Rosa cooed and reached back for the Spaniard. He grabbed the little girl and held her high in the air. She giggled at first and then suddenly realized how high she was and began panicking. She whimpered and whined until Carlos brought her back down.

“Lo siento corazon.” (I’m sorry, my love) Carlos cooed. His wife shook her head and returned to laundry. Ross cuddled into his side and suckled on a few fingers. “Ay, no hagas eso.” (Hey don’t do that.) Her lip quivered as he took her fingers from her mouth.

She burst into tears and mama returned. “What’s the matter darling?” She cooed grabbing the girl from Carlos. She repeated the cuddle and fingers to her mouth motion and Carlos once again removed her fingers. His wife swatted his hand away and she went to find a paci to replace the fingers.

“I’m sorry amor.” He apologized. She told him there was nothing to be sorry for and continued her day as if he wasn’t there. He shadowed her, seeing what she does day in and day out.

“Carlos, you don’t have to look over my shoulder all day.” She teased. “Here, go read Rosa a book in her room, she loves picking her own and sitting in my lap in the rocking chair while rocking.” She explained for him.

He nodded and scooped Rosa up. Once in the nursery he set the girl down and she picked a book for them to read. She handed it to him and held sat in the rocking chair, it squeaked from the overuse and he chuckled. “Let’s read a book together.” He said smiling. He put her on his lap and read the book.

He couldn’t even do that right apparently. Rosa liked to linger on pages and look through the scenes that were illustrated. Carlos would read the words and flip the page, without lingering. Rosa pouted as he continued and that’s how her mama found them. Carlos oblivious.

Her mama sighed and grabbed one of Rosa’s favorites before sitting crisscrossed on the fluffy rug. Rosa scrambled to get off Carlos’s lap and into mama’s as she began reading and narrating the illustrations that Rosa pointed at.

Carlos sighed now, deciding to shower and leave them be. He missed milestones and doesn’t know what his daughter even likes to do daily. After his shower he heard giggles and splashes.

“Are you popping the bubbles?” He heard. A small ‘sì’ with giggles that followed and he awed. He didn’t even see it to know it was absolutely adorable. “I think papa is done showering, are you ready to get out?”

“Papa done?” Rosa questioned. Her mama explained again and he heard the tub start to drain the water. After a few minutes they emerged from the bathroom, both with smiles. “Papa!”

“Hola mi corazon, todo limpio?” (Hey my love, all clean?) He asked. Rosa looked a bit confused until her mama whispered what he said in her ear. Then she nodded at him.

“Let’s get dressed and then we can have big, big snuggles in mama and papa’s bed hm?” Usually Rosa wouldn’t sleep with them but Carlos seemed to need that comfort tonight. Rosa agreed and the three of them went to her nursery. Once she was diapered and dressed and well loved, they headed to the master bedroom.

“You get dressed amor, I’ll stay with her.” Carlos yawned. His wife giggled before giving him a kiss and disappeared to shower and get ready herself.

Carlos cozied himself on his spot and Rosa pouted at him from mama’s side. “Mine.” She mumbled. He gave her a confused look until she crawled to lay on top of him.

“Qué es esto?” (What’s this?) He asked chuckling. Rosa giggled while sprawled on top of him. He started ticking her gently and she burst into a fit of laughter. She yawned and then placed her paci in her mouth and scrambled the bed again, seemingly looking for something that isn’t there.

She whined and looked to her mama as she reappeared. “Lobo mama.” She mumbled through the pacifier. Her mama knew exactly what she was referring to and scooped the stuffie into her baby’s hands. A wolf head on a small square of blanket that had Rosa embroidered on it.

“Lobo?” Carlos asked. “Who gave you this mi corazon?” The little girl was too tired to recollect who gave it to her and just laid on his chest again, sighing at the warmth of him.

“Blanca gave it to her when we went to Spain.” His wife answered. “Said you had one when you were little.” Carlos rubbed his baby’s back and kissed her head, wishing her goodnight. His wife joined the bed and Rosa was sound asleep by then.

“She seemed upset that I was lying in my bed.” Carlos inquired. His wife let out a small chuckle and kissed them both.

“That’s her side of the bed when you’re gone amor.” She whispered.

Don’t hate me- part 5 will be a time skip.

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @justaf1girl @widow-cevans @kallanfiona @angstynasty @san4117 @1dloverrxo @mayax2o07 @celestialend @sol3chu

[formulafanfics13]

pretty please could you write really fluffy Ollie teaching reader to drive. Maybe she went to a race and was speaking to some other wags or drivers and tells them she can't drive and they can't believe it so ollie tells her he's gonna teach her to drive finally. Thank you in advance ☺️☺️ I love your writing sm 🫶🏻🫶🏻

mirror, signal, blush - OB87

Masterlist

Summary When you casually admit at the Mercedes motorhome that you’ve never learned to drive, the entire paddock loses their mind. Ollie Bearman, your boyfriend and F2’s golden boy, decides on the spot to teach you — dragging you into a hire car before FP1 with zero warning and too much faith. What follows is a chaotic, hilarious, and surprisingly tender driving lesson through the paddock car park, complete with curb hits, TikTok footage, and Ollie’s unwavering belief in you. By the end, you're not just trending as #BabyDriver — you’ve got a picture tucked in his passport beside his championship win.

Warnings fluff, chaotic driving, secondhand embarrassment, teasing from the grid, supportive boyfriend energy, public attention, playful nicknames, light swearing, extreme Ollie Bearman adorableness, embarrassing viral footage, zero driving skill, found-family dynamics in the paddock

It started at the Mercedes motorhome. Which, to be fair, was where most chaotic things seemed to begin.

You hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You were just chatting. Just sipping an iced coffee and listening to Carmen Mundt roast George for chewing too loud, when Lily Z gasped from the other side of the table and said, “Wait. You don’t drive?”

The table went quiet. Genuinely quiet. Even Charles, who’d only just arrived and was stuffing his face with a protein bar, froze mid-chew.

You blinked. 

“Like… at all?”

You shook your head slowly. “I never learned.”

Now they were all staring. “Never?” Lily MH asked, eyes wide behind her sunglasses.

“You’re joking,” Rebecca said, reaching for her sparkling water like she needed to hydrate through the shock.

Carmen leaned across the table, grinning. “But… how old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

“And not even a license?”

You shrugged, suddenly aware that every driver, every girlfriend, and every PR staffer within earshot was slowly tuning into the conversation. “I don’t need to drive! I’ve always lived in cities. I walk. I Uber. I take the train-”

“Oh my god,” Lily Z gasped again, “are you a train girl?”

Charles choked on his protein bar.

“She’s never driven?” Oscar piped up from a nearby table, spinning in his chair to face you. “Not even once?”

You winced. “I mean, I’ve sat in the driver’s seat-”

George looked like he might faint. “This is unacceptable.”

“I’ve just never learned, okay?” you laughed, trying not to shrivel beneath the stares. “Is it really that bad?”

And then, “Not bad,” came Ollie’s voice from behind you. “Just… tragic.”

You turned in your chair, half-scowling. “Ollie.”

He grinned, sliding into the seat beside you and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Babe. You’re dating me. You can’t tell these people you’ve never driven. We’re fixing this.”

“No we’re not.”

“Yes, we are.” His eyes were alight, the challenge already accepted before you could protest. “I’m teaching you to drive.”

You didn’t think he meant that weekend.

But the next morning, he dragged you out of bed before FP1 and stuffed you into a black hire car with “trust me” eyes and an energy drink that could probably bring the dead back to life.

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth,” you grumbled.

“You’re perfect,” he said, and tossed you the keys.

You flinched. “We’re not actually doing this, right?”

He leaned back, one arm draped over the seat, all smug and golden and boyish. “C’mon. You sat through an entire wet qualifying in Budapest and didn’t cry. You can handle first gear.”

You stalled the engine three times before you even left the paddock parking lot.

Ollie didn’t even flinch. “It’s fine, baby. Try again.”

You glared at the gear stick like it had personally wronged you. “I’m going to kill us.”

He grinned. “Nah. I’ve seen the way you parallel park your luggage in hotel lobbies. You’ve got this.”

“Not helping.”

“You’re literally doing amazing.”

“Stop lying.”

He leaned in, kissed your jaw, and murmured, “I’m not lying. You’ve got it. You’re already better than Charles.”

You tried not to smile. “Not a high bar.”

Eventually, the car started moving. Sort of. Lurching more than rolling. But forward was forward, and Ollie looked like he might cry from pride.

“Okay, okay, okay-” he whispered excitedly. “Hands at ten and two. Light on the clutch. Brake like you love me. Yes!”

“Brake like I what?”

“Like you love me.”

“Babe, I will drive us into a wall.”

He laughed and clutched his chest like you’d wounded him. “Unreal behaviour.”

You made it to an empty stretch of road by the team hospitality, where PR staff and engineers were just beginning to show up, blinking in the morning sun. A few spotted the car and waved. One or two started filming.

“I swear to god, if this ends up on TikTok-”

“Too late,” Ollie said cheerfully. “You’re trending under #BabyDriver.”

You groaned and rested your head against the steering wheel.

“Hey.” He nudged you. “You’re doing great.”

“I haven’t even gone over twenty.”

“Exactly. You haven’t died. Or killed me. Or crashed into Zak Brown’s hire car.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Was that on the table?”

“Definitely.”

By lap four around the car park, you were almost enjoying it.

Not the driving part. That still made your palms sweat and your stomach twist. But Ollie’s commentary? His terrible metaphors? His “mirror, signal, vibe” instructional method? That was worth the nerves.

“Okay, let’s try a turn,” he said gently.

You turned. And you clipped the curb.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Cool. Curb’s still standing. We’re still alive. No harm done.”

You looked at him, waiting for the lecture. For the laugh. For the I told you so.

But Ollie Bearman just smiled, leaned across the gear stick, and kissed you softly.

“See?” he whispered. “You’re a natural.”

That night, George posted a picture of the entire Mercedes team gathered around his phone, cackling at the dashcam footage of you screeching the car to a halt.

Lando reposted it with: “Can’t believe Baby Bear’s girlfriend just invented driving 😭😭😭”

Oscar sent you a text that read: “You in the car: 🚗💨🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️ Everyone else: 😳☠️🙏”

But Ollie?

He just printed out the first photo of you behind the wheel and slipped it into his passport holder. Right beside the one of you kissing him after his F2 win.

When you found it later, you rolled your eyes.

“You’re obsessed with me.”

He smirked. “Damn right I am.”

[bloggerspam]

I might be stress crying from my move, but nobody can prove anything.

Also, fair warning i use ghost and halfa p much interchangably when it comes to Danny.

===

Phantom has a good thing going with the Outlaws.

Ever since the JL Dark decided to step in and actually help Amity Park with the GIW and the Anti ECTO Acts, Danny's life has been nothing but positives.

He got his grades back on track, he and his friends and family are free to roam about without worrying about ghost attacks, his parents fully turned around on their stance on ghosts, and he's having a good time chilling in the Realms and working as an engineer at STAR Labs.

It's just that his friends are doing their own thing now, and his sisters are living their own lives, and none of that really involved Danny on a daily basis.

He's not gonna even get into the shenanigans his parents are into.

That's not to say they've grown apart or forgotten each other completely—they have their own spaces in Phantom's lair for gods sake—it's just that. Well.

They all have outside friends, and Danny's maybe not so good at making friends like they are.

One could argue that his former rogues consider him a friend, and that's not even taking into account the yetis, but they're—well.

They're dead.

And Danny's dead, halfway at least, so that's not exactly a deal breaker—

Nobody talks about the culture shock of mingling with dead, is all!

Danny can look up 70s punk rock, can look up motorcycles and biker culture in the 90s, pop culture references in the 50s, he can even check out history books to try and get on the medieval level of communicating with Royalty—there's just a limit, is all.

Ghosts are always willing to learn about the things after their deaths, so it's not even that Danny's feeling unheard. They're really good at blending, considering they have to mingle with others from other eras.

It just doesn't feel like Danny got that part of the deal of being dead.

Like how Ghosts have this innate idea of what they can and can't do, but Danny got the short end of the stick as a Halfa.

And the yetis are nice, very accepting and treat him like one of their young ones.

But Phantom's sort of everyone's boss? And that also puts a sort of…perspective to his ghost friendships.

And his coworkers at work at wonderful, they're lovely and accepting and sometimes they go out for drinks even! But Danny is weird, he knows it.

It's hard to be Danny without talking about Phantom. To be Danny and not talk about the weirdness of his family, of his small town.

It's not impossible, he can skate by with his Obsession with stars and kind of spin it in a way that Danny's become one of the office's pagan astrology witch guy that's sort of…ghost/cryptid/dead themed.

He's no goth, but he's happy to break that stereotype anyway.

The point is, neither Danny nor Phantom really have any close friends beyond Sam and Tucker, and he loves his sisters, but they're all mostly adults now so they don't live together anymore and—

It's just.

Danny's realizing that a lot of his personality is Phantom, and Phantom?

Well, Phantom is lonely.

It feels selfish to say that, even in his own head.

Johnny 13 and Kitty are always down to have a race, Ember's been harping on him to let her teach him an instrument, and the yetis have all but pleaded Danny to come over for more cuddles.

But they'll never really understand the feeling of being alive again, and if Danny is being honest with himself?

It feels unfair that Danny is alive. It feels unfair that Danny can have all this, and nothing at once.

Which bring Danny back to this: Phantom's got a good thing going with the Outlaws.

They're not exactly friends, they're closer to coworkers more than anything, but Danny can be more himself with them, and that's what matters. He can be open about Phantom, and because these people understand secret identities more than anyone, he can also be relatively open about Danny.

They know he's of a special supernatural species—that he's both alive and dead. It makes him uniquely qualified to deal with certain magicks, and with his powerset and normal human skills Phantom is a good fit for the Outlaws who work on the edge of things.

They've somehow, through circumstances Danny is still unsure of to this day, become the JL Dark's designated "cult smashing team."

Thank you, Arsenal, for that direct quote.

It still baffles Danny, because as far as he knows, only one of them is even remotely magically and/or supernaturally inclined—and that's on a technicality, Danny thinks.

Red Hood's got the scent of the All-Caste on him, but he doesn't even use it? Ever? That's not even mentioning his whole…revenant status. Danny doesn't really think Hood is even aware?

The rest are just…well. Amazonians, Kryptonians and Tamaranians can dabble in magic-like elements, sure—but they don't actually do magic.

Danny's not even gonna ask why Arsenal gets involved—his arrows are scientific, they're not even technomagic?

But Arsenal's mostly a dad now, if the hero grape-vine is to be believed, so he's not even really in the picture most of the time?

The point is, Danny can be the most himself with the Outlaws, and maybe, hopefully, one day, they can be actual friends.

It'd be nice, is all.

He thought they were on that track, and certainly, Bizarro's been a real hoot to hang out with. Arsenal, when he is around, loves to talk shop about the chemical make up of some of his arrows—not to mention Danny loves gushing about the engineering of them, so they get along great!

Artemis has been a delight to spar with, especially since Danny's also been taking lessons from Pandora. Starfire is…well. Starfire's an alien. Danny's sort of been a fan since her Teen Titan days!

And he thought that maybe Hood tolerated him, even enjoyed his company even! He's nice in a gruff way, and always listens when Danny yaps away about whatever topic. They've even, on occasion, had conversations about the books Hood has been reading.

So it makes Danny a little…uneasy, when Hood starts to act a little strange.

The other's have been business as usual, but Hood?

Hood has been getting…well. Hood has been staring at Danny a lot more, and the amount of times Danny's jolted in surprise at how close the revenant suddenly is has risen exponentially since Hood inadvertently visited him in his lair.

It makes this complicated, he feels like he's let his guard down somehow without realizing it.

Danny was already trying to be extra careful with Hood—revenant status not-withstanding, Hood runs hot with the All-Caste fire burning in him.

It makes Phantom want to curl up like a scarf, and Danny would rather eat Dash's dirty shorts again than humiliate himself and Hood that way.

But Hood is making it very hard for him—he keeps summoning him, and popping up out of nowhere, and somehow sitting next to Danny for who knows how long without Danny even really noticing, which is a feat when Phantom can innately sense when one of the dead is nearby.

And Hood is, once again on a technicality, of the dead.

It's driving Phantom mad.

It's driving Danny to an early grave.

Dear Darcy...

Another AU borne from the HHD server--Touch-starved DoM with identity shenanigans. Follow here on AO3!

===

It isn't until well into their acquaintanceship that Jason notices something odd about Phantom.

That's not exactly true—Jason noticed it on their third mission together in a passing thought, but decided to not care about it on account of all the bullets and daggers being thrown at him and his team at the time.

Phantom is an ally, of sorts. A consult, perhaps, Jason doesn't really know.

It's hard to really say when they still don't really know what he does.

Though, again, that's not exactly true—Jason supposes it's more accurate to say they still don't really know what he can't do.

They go to him when the supernatural is involved, introduced to them via Zatanna when Jason expressed an adamant dislike of needing to ask JL Dark for anything (needing to ask Bruce for anything).

The ghost, a big name in the so called Realms world, is friendly and happy to help most of the time. He's a delight to work with in Jason's book, seeming to use his so-called ghost sense to read the room empathically—filling in the spaces when the quiet is too dark for the team, trailing behind silent as a shadow when even breathing is too loud, staying mostly out of the way and chiming in when necessary.

It helps that if shit hits the fan, Phantom can do something about it—it helps that that's the only time Phantom will ever butt in.

The Outlaws, Jason, is still to raw to handle playing nice, but Phantom makes it easy.

Phantom makes it effortless.

It makes Jason's gut roil in ways he's not sure how to deal with, beyond shooting it.

Either way, Jason, Red Hood, isn't supposed to be here in the Realms.

It's not that he's not allowed, per say, it's just that he wasn't exactly invited to this particular corner and Jason's a Bat, sure, but even he knows the supernatural have rules.

Jason was trying to summon Phantom for a quick mission, an in and out kind of deal that may or may not have had a cult involved in it that made Jason a little leery.

Except the summons was denied, which can happen sometimes when Phantom is busy.

Only instead of the circle simply going dark, like usual, Jason got pulled in instead.

So now he's here, in what he assumes to be Phantom's lair.

It's nice, the lair, if a little dark and mood-lighted. It has a dome-like structure, with stars and constellations all over like a planetarium. There's even one of those big ass telescopes peeking out the roof like one, though it seems to only point outwards towards the green of the Realms. Symbolic, or decorative in nature.

There's bookshelves of astrology and astronomy and all sorts of science and space related things littered throughout the shelves. Every now and then the stacks of books are interrupted with some kind of LEGO space creation, or a miniature of a rocket, or some of those weird weapons Phantom sometimes pulls out.

There's a work area, neat and messy at the same time, with a work table and a large toolbox drawer set. Metal detritus is piled neatly next to it, a project or two laid out under a heavy dark blue cloth on the table to keep it from getting dusty or be moved around if Jason has to guess.

In another area, there's living room-like space with a big monitor and beanbags and soft chairs surrounding it, typical of a college dorm room-esque gaming set up. Just beside it there's a large computer that hums softly, a picture of a female werewolf acting as a screensaver.

In yet another, there's a gathering of plants of many varieties growing this way and that. Jason spots a couple he recognizes from his run-ins with Pamela, and spots a copious amount of plants he doesn't recognize of this Earth. Ghost plants, he's assuming, from the glow of them.

There is even, curiously, one of those "at-home" basketball games that can fold away reminiscent of the ones you can see at the arcade with a couple miniature basketballs. Beside it, some kind of sleek mechanical looking surfboard rests against the wall in metallic reds and black with another toolbox set hidden just behind where it leans.

The kitchen area has a fridge that's absolutely covered in magnets from all over the world, a picture in crayon that is disconcertingly good pinned up here or there signed by someone named Ellie.

And then, of course, the main draw at the center of the room: a bed of sorts, stacked with pillows and blankets and assorted plushies of varying sizes.

Buried within is Phantom himself, huddled up in a nest of pillows and breathing heavy, angelic face flushed green the way a human would in fever. Jason, for the first time since meeting the halfa, truly wonders extensively how much the he isn't telling them.

Which brings Jason back to the odd thing.

Well, the odd thing that Jason is focusing on right now:

Phantom, contrary to his self-proclaimed ghostly nature, is very solid.

More than that, he's very, utterly, alive.

It's all the more apparent when Jason takes off one of his gloves to feel Phantom's forehead, the way Bruce would when Jason was Robin.

The way Jason wishes he could with his family.

Jason realizes, with the kind of starkness that comes from a photo flipbook of memories cascading through him, that he's never touched Phantom before. Not skin to skin or outside of a spar, and never like this.

He realizes, as the pocket book extends to not just him but his team-mates as well, that Phantom's never touched anyone before.

Always hovering just 6 feet away, like quarantine.

Like the depth of a grave.

Phantom is not quite hot to the touch, as Jason expects he would be. He had suspected a fever, of a sort. But he supposes it makes sense that a ghost would run cold, considering.

In the first place, Jason's not sure what possessed him to touch the ghost—he doesn't even have a baseline temperature to compare to so there's no real point.

He's not sure what possessed him to think this was okay, touching an ally like this without consent.

Not when his touch has never been welcomed, especially not when he's Red Hood.

He's just about to pull his hand away, careful not to wake the ghost, when Phantom starts to purr.

It rattles through him, like it's not used to being let out, as Phantom nuzzles at the tips of Jason's fingers.

As if Jason's touch was wanted, as if it comforts the ghost, as if Phantom wants nothing more.

As if this very hand didn't burn buildings to the ground, didn't shoot men into the fathoms, didn't carry bloody duffle bags, didn't fucking hurt hurt hurt.

Jason withdraws his hand carefully, gliding as gently as he can manage, breathing slow and deep.

He's been trained bloody enough to know pulling back in knee-jerk reaction can give things away.

He does not want Phantom to know he touched him.

Jason puts his glove back on, tight and unforgiving, and steps back.

He flexes his hand once, twice. Shakes it, before forcefully relaxing every muscle, trying to melt away the cold traces of Phantom's skin on his.

He clears his throat once, twice a little harsher, until Phantom mewls and blinks glowing green eyes up at him. His gaze is hazy with fever, soft like feathers, child-like in confusion.

And here, another odd thing Jason has not noticed until now:

When did Phantom's Lazarus green eyes become comforting?

When did Phantom's watery green eyes become forgiving?

[2b4st4r]

hi bae!! could you (pretty please) write me one where sanji and fem! strawhat! reader have something really domestic, like taking care of each other after nightmares and such, until reader confesses and Sanji (who very much loves reader) says he don't feel the same because he's scared of someone actually caring for him?

maybe after a while Sanji see's reader close to someone else and crash out thinking reader lied about loving him but he's just being jealous and scared and we have a pretty happy ending to mend my little heart?

no need to have everything i listed, just listing the general vibe, feel free to include or exclude whatever you feel like

thx a bunch viu 💖

✧˖°. A Recipe for Reassurance ✧˖°.

Sanji x Reader

. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊

𖤓 Words: 11,335

𖤓 ִWarnings: Heartbreak, angst, jealousy, miscommunication, happy ending.

✶⋆.˚ A/n: i really hoped you liked this! ngl i kinda dragged it out a little but it was a lot of fun writing this! byebye.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

The Grand Line was a capricious beast, its moods shifting like the tides, but aboard the Thousand Sunny, a different kind of constant hummed—the quiet, steady rhythm of family. And at the heart of that rhythm, in many ways, was you, Y/N.

You were the Straw Hats' anchor, their soft landing, the one who always had a kind word or a gentle touch. You'd often find yourself leaned against Zoro's side during his naps, a comfortable silence stretching between you as the ship swayed. Nami would frequently seek you out on deck, sharing her latest mapping ideas or simply enjoying the sunset together, a rare vulnerability in her usually guarded demeanor. Usopp would spin his wildest tales to you, knowing you'd listen with genuine fascination, your laughter always his favorite reward. Even the usually reserved Robin would sometimes share a quiet moment, a knowing glance passing between you that spoke volumes. And then there was Chopper, who’d often be found nestled in your lap, his tiny hooves gently kneading your clothes as you stroked his fur. You loved them all, each in their own unique way, a vital thread in the vibrant tapestry of the Straw Hat Pirates.

But with Sanji? That was a different story entirely. From the moment you’d stepped aboard, there had been an undeniable pull, a current that drew you both together. You loved everything about him: the way his perpetually swirly eyebrow twitched when he was deep in thought, the passionate fire in his eyes when he spoke of food, the almost theatrical flourish with which he presented even the simplest dish, the surprising gentleness of his hands when they weren't busy flipping ingredients or fighting, the way he'd fuss over everyone's meals, making sure each bite was perfect. You loved his chivalry, even when it was over the top, and the unexpected moments of seriousness that would flash across his face. You loved the little hum he’d make when he was pleased, and the way he’d light up a cigarette, the smoke curling around his impossibly handsome face. You loved his unwavering loyalty, his fierce protectiveness, and even his occasional dramatics. You loved the way he moved, with a dancer's grace, whether in the kitchen or in a fight. You simply loved him.

You two were inseparable. When he was in the kitchen, you were right there beside him, learning to chop vegetables with his precision, or just silently peeling fruit while he orchestrated his culinary masterpieces. You'd often find yourselves on the deck late into the night, sharing hushed conversations under the stars, or simply leaning against the railing, the rhythmic creak of the ship the only sound. When the world seemed to turn upside down, as it so often did on the Grand Line, you two were a singular unit. If a nightmare jolted him awake, you’d be there, a comforting presence beside him, stroking his hair until the terror receded. And when your own sleep was shattered by dark dreams, it was his warm embrace that would pull you back from the brink, his whispered reassurances chasing away the shadows. You were each other’s calm in the storm, a steadfast, unyielding comfort in a chaotic world.

Your love for Sanji wasn't a sudden, blinding flash, but rather a slow, steady burn, deepening with every shared laugh, every quiet moment, every crisis weathered together. It was in the way his presence alone could soothe the frayed edges of your nerves after a particularly harrowing encounter. It was in the unconscious way your hand would seek his when the ship rocked violently, or in the easy comfort of his arm slung around your shoulders during a rare, peaceful evening on deck. You found yourself cataloging every one of his gestures, every expression: the soft crinkle around his eyes when he genuinely smiled, the rare, almost shy glance he'd cast your way when he thought no one was looking, the firm, reassuring squeeze of his hand when you were worried.

You'd catch yourself staring, sometimes, as he moved around the kitchen, a blur of motion and passion, and a warmth would bloom in your chest. It wasn't just admiration for his skill; it was a profound appreciation for the dedication he poured into every aspect of his life, especially his cooking. You loved watching him explain a dish, his voice filled with an almost poetic reverence for the ingredients. And when he'd present you with a plate, specifically made to your liking, a small, knowing smile on his lips, your heart would ache with a sweetness that was almost overwhelming.

There were moments, too, when the lightheartedness would fade, and you'd glimpse the deeper currents within him. When the crew faced a truly grim situation, or when his past weighed heavily on his mind, you saw a vulnerability that he rarely showed to others. In those times, your love for him solidified into something fierce and protective. You wanted to shield him from every hurt, to be his unwavering support, just as he was yours. The thought of a future without him, without his quick wit, his passionate spirit, his surprisingly tender touch, felt like staring into an empty sea. Your world, it seemed, had become inextricably linked with his, a delicious, exhilarating entanglement you wouldn't trade for anything.

The decision settled within you like a quiet certainty, a gentle hum beneath the surface of your usual camaraderie with Sanji. Today was the day. The thought both exhilarated and terrified you. Each time you tried to find the right moment, however, the chaotic energy of the Thousand Sunny seemed to conspire against you.

The first attempt was during breakfast. He was bustling around the galley, plates flying, a symphony of clanking dishes and sizzling pans. You’d leaned against the doorway, trying to catch his eye, your heart pounding a nervous rhythm against your ribs. "Sanji," you started, but just then Luffy bellowed for more meat, and Sanji was swept away in a flurry of frantic activity, your words lost in the clamor.

Later, you found him on deck, meticulously polishing his shoes. The sea breeze ruffled his golden hair, and for a moment, the usual boisterousness of the ship seemed to fade. This was it, you thought. You approached him, taking a deep breath. "Sanji, there's something I really need to—" But before you could finish, Nami called for his assistance with some navigational charts, her voice sharp and urgent. With an apologetic glance, he hurried off, leaving you standing alone with the unspoken words hanging in the air.

The day wore on, each failed attempt adding to the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. You tried again during his afternoon smoke break on the deck, but Usopp and Chopper joined him, launching into a boisterous recounting of their latest "brave" adventure. You even considered interrupting him while he was cooking dinner, a sacred ritual, but the sheer intensity of his focus deterred you.

Finally, as the stars began to pepper the inky sky, a sense of quiet descended upon the Sunny. The gentle rocking of the ship was almost lulling, and the air was cool and crisp. You found Sanji leaning against the railing on the upper deck, a familiar silhouette against the starlit expanse, the orange glow of his cigarette tip a tiny beacon in the darkness.

Hesitantly, you approached him, the familiar scent of smoke and his subtle cologne filling your senses. You stood beside him, the silence stretching for a comfortable moment before a fresh wave of nervousness washed over you. You could feel your palms sweating, and your throat felt tight.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, the ember momentarily illuminating his profile. He looked peaceful, lost in thought. This was it. No more delaying.

Taking another deep breath, you turned slightly towards him, your gaze fixed on the vast, twinkling universe above. "Sanji," you began, your voice a little shaky, "I... I need to tell you something. Something important."

He turned his head, his brow slightly raised in silent inquiry, the cigarette still held loosely between his lips. He waited patiently, his gaze steady on yours.

You gathered all your courage, the culmination of all those unspoken feelings finally finding their way to your lips. "Sanji," you said, your voice gaining a bit more strength, your eyes locking with his in the soft starlight. "I... I'm in love with you."

The words hung in the cool night air, a confession laid bare under the silent witness of the stars. The only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the Sunny and the soft creak of the ship. Sanji remained still, his expression unreadable in the dim light. He didn't speak, didn't move, the cigarette slowly burning between his fingers. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, amplifying the frantic beating of your heart as you waited for his response.

The silence stretched, agonizing and thick, under the indifferent gaze of the stars. You watched him, your breath held tight in your chest, waiting for any sign, any movement, any flicker of emotion in his usually expressive face. The cigarette glowed, a tiny, defiant ember in the dim light. And then, he took it from his lips, exhaled a plume of smoke into the night, and his voice, when it finally came, was soft, almost a whisper, yet it struck you with the force of a physical blow.

"I can't, Y/N."

The words hung in the air, simple, definitive, and utterly devastating. Your heart, which had been pounding a frantic drumbeat moments before, seemed to simply drop, sinking into a cold, empty chasm within you. The gentle rocking of the Sunny suddenly felt violent, the night air sharp and biting. You wanted to ask why, to plead, to demand an explanation, but no sound would escape your constricted throat. His gaze, usually so warm and inviting, was now distant, unreadable.

He turned back to the railing, his back partially to you, and took another slow drag of his cigarette. It was a clear dismissal, a silent wall erected between you. The intimacy of the moment, the closeness you had always shared, fractured into a thousand pieces. The air between you, once so comfortable and familiar, was now thick with unspoken words and the crushing weight of rejection.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, the reality of his words slowly, painfully, setting in. There was nothing more to say, nothing more to do. The hope that had blossomed so brightly in your chest withered and died in an instant. Without another word, you turned and walked away, the gentle creak of the deckboards beneath your feet a mournful counterpoint to the shattering of your own heart. Each step felt heavy, leading you further from the man you loved, and deeper into a silence that now felt colder than the ocean itself. You didn't know where you were going, only that you needed to be somewhere, anywhere, but there.

The night air, once a comforting caress, now felt like a frigid embrace as you stumbled away from Sanji. Every step was a dull ache, a physical manifestation of the chasm that had just ripped open inside you. Your confession, so bravely delivered, had been met with a quiet, undeniable "no," and the reverberations of that single word echoed in the empty chambers of your heart.

A cold wave of numbness washed over you first, a desperate attempt by your mind to shield itself from the raw, searing pain. You felt strangely detached, as if watching a scene unfold from a distance. Was that really your voice, so vulnerable, so exposed? And was that really Sanji, his back turned, leaving you to drown in the silence?

But the numbness was a fragile dam, and behind it, a torrent of grief began to swell. It wasn't the dramatic, weeping kind of grief, but a quiet, insidious ache that settled deep in your bones. It was the grief of a future unwritten, of whispered dreams that would now never see the light of day. Every shared laugh, every comfortable silence, every moment of intertwined closeness with him suddenly felt tainted, replaying in your mind with a new, cruel filter. Had you imagined it all? Had your feelings blinded you to the reality of your relationship?

Then came the humiliation, hot and stinging. To lay your heart bare, only for it to be gently, but firmly, pushed away. You felt exposed, foolish, as if you had worn your deepest secret on your sleeve for all the world to see, only to be met with polite indifference. You wanted to crawl into the darkest corner of the ship, to vanish completely, to escape the memory of his quiet rejection.

Beneath it all was a terrifying sense of loss. Sanji wasn't just a crush; he was your closest confidant, your anchor in the chaotic world of the Straw Hats. The thought of facing him now, of navigating the unspoken awkwardness that would surely settle between you, was unbearable. How could you go back to helping him in the kitchen, to sharing quiet moments on deck, knowing that your heart held a secret he didn't reciprocate? The very foundation of your most cherished friendship felt shattered, leaving you adrift and profoundly alone under the vast, uncaring expanse of the night sky.

Sanji watched your retreating figure disappear into the shadows of the Thousand Sunny, the glowing tip of his cigarette the only witness to the turmoil raging within him. Your confession, those simple, powerful words – "I'm in love with you" – had hit him like a physical blow, simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. He loved you. God, he loved you with a ferocity that surprised even himself. Every kind word, every shared laugh, every quiet moment of understanding you offered was a treasure he guarded fiercely. He loved your unwavering kindness, the way you effortlessly connected with everyone on the crew, your gentle nature that somehow managed to be incredibly strong. He loved the way you looked at him when he cooked, that genuine fascination that made his heart swell.

But saying "no" had been a knee-jerk reaction, a bitter taste in his mouth even as the word left his lips. It wasn't because he didn't feel the same. It was because the raw, unadulterated fear that had coiled in his gut for years had suddenly tightened its grip. The ghost of his past, the haunting specter of Zeff's sacrifice, the constant, gnawing anxiety of losing those he cared for – it all surged to the forefront. He'd seen firsthand the devastating price of love and attachment, the agony of watching someone give everything for him. He couldn't, wouldn't, put you through that. He couldn't bear the thought of you ever having to face danger, or worse, make a sacrifice for him. His deepest, most primal instinct was to protect you, and in his twisted logic, that meant keeping you at arm's length, even from his own heart.

He took another drag, the smoke bitter on his tongue. He could still feel the warmth of your presence beside him, the vulnerable hope in your eyes. He’d seen the pain flash across your face as he spoke, and it had twisted a knife in his own chest. He wanted to pull you back, to explain, to confess his own overwhelming feelings. He wanted to tell you how much your "I love you" meant, how it had simultaneously shattered and healed parts of him he didn't even know were broken. But the words had frozen in his throat, choked by the fear of what loving you truly meant – the potential for loss, for heartbreak, for the kind of pain he'd sworn he'd never inflict on anyone he cared for again.

He stood there for a long time, the cigarette burning down to its filter, the night air growing colder. He had pushed you away, the person he cherished most, all because he was a coward. A silent, desperate ache settled in his chest, a stark contrast to the lively, boisterous Sanji the crew knew. He had traded your love for what he perceived as your safety, but the silence that now enveloped him felt anything but safe. It felt empty, vast, and terrifyingly lonely.

You found yourself leaning against the mast, the rough wood digging into your back, but you barely noticed. The numbness had begun to recede, leaving behind a raw, exposed nerve. Every breath felt shallow, every sound on the ship amplified and distorted. The once comforting creak of the Thousand Sunny's timbers now sounded like a mournful sigh, mirroring the desolation in your own heart.

You squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to erase the image of his unreadable face, his quiet "I can't, Y/N." But it was seared into your mind, a brand of rejection that burned with a cold fire. All those shared moments, the late-night talks, the comfortable silences, the easy camaraderie – they now felt like a cruel deception. Had you misread everything so completely? Had your own feelings conjured a connection that never truly existed on his end? The thought was a bitter pill, difficult to swallow.

A profound loneliness settled over you, a heavy cloak in the vast expanse of the ocean. Even surrounded by your chosen family, the Straw Hats, you felt utterly isolated. How could you face them tomorrow, knowing this secret heartbreak? How could you look Sanji in the eye, pretend that nothing had changed, when your world had just been irrevocably altered? The very thought of his presence, once the source of so much joy, now brought a sharp pang of dread. The ease you once shared was gone, replaced by an insurmountable wall. You had bared your soul, and in return, you had been left with nothing but the echoes of a love unrequited, a future you had dared to dream of, now irrevocably shattered.

The morning wore on, the usual boisterous energy of the Straw Hats filling the galley, but for you, it was a finely tuned performance of pretending. You tried to focus on Chopper's excited ramblings about a new medicinal plant Robin had pointed out, or Nami’s exasperated sighs at Luffy’s bottomless pit of a stomach. But your awareness was a constant hum, attuned to Sanji’s presence.

He moved past your seat, heading for the stove with a stack of empty plates. As he reached to grab a new batch of pancakes, his hand brushed against your arm. It was a fleeting contact, no more than a whisper of skin on skin, but it was enough. You flinched, a tiny, almost imperceptible jerk, pulling your arm away as if scalded.

Sanji’s movements faltered. He paused, his back to you, the plates clattering slightly in his hand. The easy flow of his culinary dance had been broken. He turned his head just enough for you to catch his gaze over his shoulder. His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by a strained neutrality. Your eyes met his for a fraction of a second, and in that brief connection, you both saw it: the abrupt, jarring distance that had replaced your usual closeness. The warmth that had always flowed between you had curdled into something cold and brittle.

The shift was immediate. The lively chatter around the table didn't stop entirely, but it certainly dimmed. Luffy, ever oblivious to subtle cues, simply paused mid-chew, his eyes wide as he looked from you to Sanji and back again. Usopp dropped his fork with a clatter, his mouth agape. Even Zoro, who often seemed to exist in his own drowsy world, cracked open one eye, sensing the sudden chill in the air.

“What was that, Y/N? Did you get burnt?” Chopper piped up, his innocent curiosity cutting through the sudden tension like a knife. His wide, earnest eyes looked from your stiff posture to Sanji’s rigid back.

You felt a flush creep up your neck. Your mind raced, scrambling for an excuse, any excuse, to diffuse the situation. Before you could even formulate a response, Sanji’s voice, sharper than usual, sliced through the air.

“No, Chopper-kun. Y/N-chan is fine. I just… almost dropped the plates.” His voice was clipped, a stark contrast to his usual melodic tone when addressing you. He didn’t turn fully, his back still partially towards the table as he resumed his work with a renewed, almost frantic, energy.

The excuse was flimsy, even for the Straw Hats. The atmosphere remained thick, laced with an unspoken question. You kept your eyes fixed on your plate, pushing a pancake around with your fork, acutely aware of the curious glances, the knowing looks that were now being exchanged around the table. The breakfast, once a lively communal affair, had become a public dissection of the sudden, undeniable rift between you and Sanji.

The breakfast incident was just the first tremor. As the days bled into a new, unsettling rhythm on the Thousand Sunny, the crew, despite their varying levels of perceptiveness, couldn't help but notice the profound shift in the dynamic between Y/N and Sanji.

It began with the small things, the almost imperceptible changes that, when accumulated, painted a stark picture. Sanji's usual flamboyant greetings to you – the twirls, the heartfelt "Y/N-chan! My darling!" – had vanished. Now, they were replaced by a polite, almost formal "Good morning, Y/N," delivered with a brief, unseeing nod. And you, who had always met his theatrics with a fond smile or a playful retort, now simply offered a strained "Good morning, Sanji," often averting your gaze.

The most glaring difference was in the galley. You, who had been his most constant companion in the kitchen, meticulously prepping vegetables, sharing quiet conversations over the sizzle of pans, or simply being a comforting presence, were rarely there anymore. You’d find excuses: needing to help Nami with charts, offering to mend Usopp’s latest contraption, or even spending extra time with Robin in the library. When you did enter the galley for meals, you’d choose a seat as far from Sanji as possible, and the easy banter that once flowed between you two had dried up completely.

Luffy, in his usual innocent bluntness, was often the first to comment. "Hey, Sanji! Y/N's not helping you cook anymore? Your food's still super good, but it's weird!" Sanji would just offer a tight-lipped smile and mumble something about you being busy, while you would busily focus on your plate, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.

Chopper and Usopp were equally confused. "Y/N, why don't you sit next to Sanji anymore? You always used to!" Chopper might ask, genuinely puzzled. You’d usually manage a mumbled excuse about liking your current seat, or needing to be closer to someone else for a conversation.

Even Zoro, despite his constant naps, picked up on the tension. He'd occasionally open an eye to observe the subtle but significant distance between you two. He noticed how Sanji’s usual doting attention towards you had changed to a guarded professionalism, and how your normally open and warm demeanor towards him had become reserved, almost wary. He rarely commented, but a shrewd glint in his eye suggested he was watching, putting the pieces together.

Nami and Robin, with their sharper social instincts, noticed it immediately and more profoundly. Nami would sometimes catch your eye, a silent question passing between you, but you'd quickly look away, your usual openness replaced by a shuttered expression. Robin's usual serene smile would often dim when she observed the interactions, or lack thereof, between you and Sanji. They saw the way Sanji's usual fiery passion seemed a little muted when you were in the room, and how your radiant warmth seemed to dim whenever he was near. The crew's favorite dynamic duo, their closest friends, were suddenly acting like polite strangers, and the Thousand Sunny, for all its adventurous spirit, felt a little colder, a little less like home, because of it.

The initial sting of Sanji's rejection lingered, a dull throb in your chest that refused to fully dissipate. Days bled into weeks, and the forced cordiality between you and the cook remained, an unspoken tension that permeated the galley and the deck. Yet, beneath the surface of that lingering ache, something else, remarkably, began to stir. Very, very slowly, almost imperceptibly, your heart began its long, arduous process of healing.

It wasn't a sudden, dramatic shift. There were still moments, a familiar scent from the galley, a glimpse of his blond head, that would send a fresh pang of sadness through you. But these moments became less frequent, their intensity diminishing over time. You started to find comfort in the smaller joys of life on the Thousand Sunny, appreciating the warmth of the sun on your skin, the salt spray on your face, the familiar rhythm of the waves.

You began to lean more heavily on the other Straw Hats, seeking solace and distraction in their unique personalities. You spent more time with Nami, poring over maps and discussing fashion, her pragmatic realism a grounding force. You’d listen to Usopp’s wild tales with genuine laughter, finding a simple joy in his boundless imagination. Robin’s quiet wisdom became a soothing balm, her calm presence a welcome respite from the turmoil within. You played more games with Chopper, letting his pure, unadulterated innocence remind you of the simple happiness in the world. Even Franky’s super enthusiasm and Brook’s musical antics provided a much-needed lightness.

Perhaps most surprisingly, it was your bond with Zoro that deepened the most during this time. The swordsman, usually a man of few words and frequent naps, became an unexpected source of quiet comfort. You found yourself gravitating towards him more and more.

You'd often find him in his usual spot, leaning against the mast or stretched out on the deck, either meditating or lost in one of his famous naps. Instead of trying to engage him in conversation, you'd simply settle down nearby, sometimes with a book, other times just gazing out at the endless ocean. There was no pressure to talk, no need for explanations. His presence was a solid, unwavering anchor in your turbulent emotional sea.

One afternoon, you were watching the clouds drift by, feeling particularly restless. Zoro, who you thought was asleep, mumbled without opening his eyes, "Still can't figure out the damn direction, huh?"

You let out a small, surprised laugh. "Something like that," you admitted, a rare moment of honesty escaping you.

He shifted slightly, and you felt a warmth spread from his shoulder, which was now just barely touching yours. "It gets easier," he grunted, his voice rough but not unkind. "Or you just stop caring as much."

He didn't pry, didn't offer platitudes. He simply understood, in his own quiet way, that you were hurting and that time was the only true healer. You found yourself sharing these silent moments more and more, the simple act of existing beside him a profound comfort. There were no expectations, no complicated dynamics, just a steady, reassuring presence that allowed you to slowly, gently, start putting the pieces of your heart back together.

The bond with Zoro continued to deepen, but it was a comfortable, platonic closeness, built on shared silences and an unspoken understanding. There was no flutter of nerves, no racing heartbeat when you were near him. Instead, there was a steady calm, a sense of being truly seen without having to explain anything. You’d often find yourself handing him a cool drink after a particularly strenuous training session, and he’d offer a grunt of thanks, perhaps even a rare, small smile that never quite reached his eyes. Sometimes, he’d absentmindedly lean his head on your shoulder during one of his naps, and you’d simply let him, feeling the solid weight of him, a tangible reminder of a friendship that required nothing but presence.

You found yourself laughing more easily around him, too. Zoro, despite his gruff exterior, had a dry, understated wit that often caught you by surprise. He'd make a sarcastic comment about Sanji's over-the-top dramatics, or offer a blunt, insightful observation about Luffy's antics, and you'd find yourself genuinely chuckling, the sound feeling less forced than it had in weeks. You even started joining him for some of his late-night training sessions, not to participate, but to simply sit and watch, the rhythmic thwack of his swords against the practice dummy a strangely soothing sound. He never asked why you were there, and you never felt the need to explain. It was enough.

Sanji, however, saw none of this nuanced comfort. From his perspective, every shared moment between you and Zoro was a fresh stab of jealousy, twisting a knife in the wound your confession had left. He watched from the galley, from the deck, from the corners of his eyes, as your laughter, once freely given to him, now bubbled up around the swordsman. He saw the easy way you settled beside Zoro, an intimacy that had once been solely his domain.

He noticed the way your hand would sometimes hover, then gently pat Zoro's arm when he landed a particularly good hit during training. He saw the private jokes, the shared glances that passed between you, seemingly excluding the rest of the crew. When he’d observe you sitting quietly beside Zoro as the moss-head napped, a wave of resentment would wash over him. He imagined you gazing at Zoro with the same gentle affection you once reserved for him, and it burned.

He didn't see the platonic comfort; he saw a blossoming romance. He didn't see you finding solace; he saw you finding someone else. His mind, clouded by his own internal struggles and the bitter taste of his self-imposed rejection, warped every innocent interaction into proof of a burgeoning connection he couldn't bear to witness. Every quiet laugh he overheard, every casual touch, every shared moment of peace between you and Zoro, fueled his mistaken belief that you had moved on, and found the very connection he desperately wanted to offer, but felt he couldn't.

Sanji’s heart ached with a dull, constant throb, a counterpoint to the vibrant chaos of the Thousand Sunny. Every laugh he heard from Y/N, every casual gesture of comfort she offered Zoro, felt like a fresh stab. He'd tried to convince himself he’d done the right thing, that pushing you away was for your own protection, but the emptiness where your easy presence used to be was a gaping void. He missed your quiet understanding in the galley, the way you’d hum along to his cooking, the gentle touch of your hand when you’d hand him an ingredient. He missed you. And now, watching you find that comfort, that quiet joy, with Zoro of all people, was a torture he hadn't anticipated. The image of you, smiling so easily beside the moss-head, haunted his waking hours and infiltrated his restless sleep. He felt a bitter irony twist in his gut: he had pushed you away to protect you, only to be consumed by the pain of watching you slip further from his grasp.

The galley was a symphony of midday clamor, a usual lunch scene that felt anything but normal to Sanji. Luffy was, predictably, inhaling mountains of food, his cheeks puffed out. Usopp was animatedly demonstrating a new slingshot technique to a wide-eyed Chopper, narrowly missing a stack of plates. Nami was counting Berry on a notepad, a faint frown on her face, while Franky loudly described a "SUPER!" new modification he planned for the ship to Brook, who was making a skull joke about his empty stomach. Robin sat serenely, a book open in her lap, occasionally offering a knowing smile to the unfolding chaos. Jimbei watched it all with a calm, amused expression.

Your presence, however, was what drew Sanji's gaze, a magnet he couldn't resist. You were seated beside Zoro, a familiar sight now. The swordsman was sharpening one of his katanas with a whetstone, the rhythmic shnnk-shnnk a low hum. You, Y/N, were peeling an orange, occasionally flicking a piece of peel at Zoro's shoulder, making him twitch without breaking his concentration. A small, private smile played on your lips, and when Zoro finally caught a piece of peel in his eye, he grumbled, and you let out a soft, melodic laugh – a sound that used to be reserved for him, Sanji, for his jokes, his antics.

They weren't being loud, or particularly boisterous, but the easy camaraderie between you and Zoro was palpable. You leaned in slightly as Zoro muttered something under his breath, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle a giggle, your shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth. You glanced up, your eyes twinkling, catching Zoro’s gaze, and for a moment, the world outside their shared bubble seemed to vanish.

Sanji watched it all from his place by the stove, a pan in his hand, his blood slowly, steadily, beginning to boil. He was meant to be the one making you laugh like that. He was meant to be the one you shared quiet jokes with. He was meant to be your comfort. The sight of your genuine amusement, the shared glance, the intimacy of the moment between you two, was the final straw.

With a sudden, violent motion, Sanji pivoted, and with a harsh, metallic clang that echoed through the entire galley, he aggressively threw the pan into the sink. It landed with a loud, reverberating thud, startlingly loud in the confined space.

The cacophony of lunch instantly died. Luffy froze mid-chew, his mouth agape. Usopp and Chopper whimpered, clutching each other. Nami's head snapped up from her calculations. Franky's "SUPER!" died on his lips. Brook's joke hung unfinished in the air. Even Robin's serene expression faltered slightly, her eyes widening.

The entire galley fell silent, save for the faint rocking of the ship and the lingering echo of the pan's impact. Every eye was now fixed on Sanji's rigid back, his shoulders hunched, his hands clenched. He didn't speak, didn't move. The tension in the room was so thick you could almost taste it, cold and sharp. You and Zoro, who had been trying to stifle your laughter moments before, were now completely still, the playful glint gone from your eyes, replaced by a wide, startled apprehension.

The silence stretched, suffocating and charged. The air in the galley was thick enough to cut with a knife, every pair of eyes fixed on Sanji’s rigid back. He stood there for a moment longer, breathing heavily, before he finally spun around, his face contorted in a mask of raw emotion that stunned the entire crew into deeper silence. His usual suave demeanor was utterly shattered, replaced by a storm of pain, fury, and accusation.

His gaze, wild and unfocused, swept over the stunned faces of his crewmates before landing, like a physical blow, on you, Y/N.

“What are you looking at, Y/N-chan?!” he snarled, his voice rough, completely devoid of its usual charm. It was a voice none of them had heard directed at you before. “Happy now?! You got what you wanted, didn’t you?!”

A gasp rippled through the galley. Nami’s eyes widened, and Usopp and Chopper huddled closer together, fear etched on their faces. Luffy, for once, was completely silent, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Sanji didn’t wait for a response. His eyes, burning with a pain he couldn't articulate, flicked to Zoro. “And you! You just love this, don’t you, Marimo?! Always there to pick up the pieces, aren't you?! Always there to be the big, strong hero!” His voice was laced with a venomous bitterness.

“Sanji, what are you talking about?!” Nami finally managed to blurt out, her voice sharp with concern.

But Sanji was beyond hearing. He was caught in the torrent of his own anguish and misguided conclusions. He gestured wildly between you and Zoro, his voice cracking with the pain of perceived betrayal. “Don’t pretend you don’t know! All this ‘quiet comfort,’ all these ‘shared laughs’!” He spat the words out, mocking your developing friendship with Zoro. “Just a little over a month ago… she stood right there,” he pointed a trembling finger at the spot where you had confessed the other night, “under the stars, and told me she loved me!”

The words hung in the air, a shocking, unexpected revelation. The entire crew froze, their faces a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and dawning realization. The clattering of forks on plates, the quiet murmurs, all ceased. Your face, Y/N, drained of all color, while Zoro, who had been listening with a rare intensity, slowly narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint appearing in their depths.

“She told me she loved me,” Sanji repeated, his voice dropping to a low, heartbroken growl, his gaze boring into you. “And now… now look at you! Laughing with him! Was it all a lie, Y/N?! Was it just a game?! Because if you loved me, if you truly loved me, you wouldn’t be acting like this! You wouldn’t be sitting there, cozy with him, like nothing ever happened!”

His chest heaved, his confession of your confession laying bare not just his own pain, but also his deeply held belief that your affection for him had been fickle, easily transferred. The pan lay in the sink, a testament to the sudden, violent eruption of a secret that had been simmering beneath the surface, unnoticed by all but the two people at its heart.

Sanji's chest heaved, his face flushed with a mixture of raw pain and a jealousy he could no longer contain. He pointed at you, then at himself, his voice rising, thick with anguish. “We should be the ones laughing like that! We should be the ones sitting close, sharing private jokes! We should be the ones comforting each other when we’ve had a bad day, or when we can’t sleep!” His voice cracked on the last words, the memories of your shared nightmares, your gentle comfort, flooding his mind, twisting the knife of his perceived loss deeper. “That was us! That was our thing! But you just… you just moved on, didn’t you?! So easily! All that talk about loving me, just to go running into his arms a few weeks later?!” He gestured wildly at Zoro, his eyes burning with accusation.

He took a ragged breath, the sheer force of his emotional outburst leaving him winded. His rant trailed off, replaced by heavy, shaky breaths. The silence that followed was absolute, punctuated only by the distant lapping of waves against the hull. The entire crew sat frozen, their gazes shifting between Sanji's trembling form and your pale, shocked face. The secret, raw and ugly, was now laid bare for everyone.

You, Y/N, felt a tremor run through you. His words, especially the accusation of you "moving on," stung with a fresh agony. It was a complete misinterpretation of your pain, your slow healing, and your platonic friendship with Zoro. The injustice of it, coupled with the humiliation of this public spectacle, finally broke through your shock.

You pushed yourself away from the table, the scrape of your chair against the floor unnervingly loud in the quiet galley. Your voice, though trembling, cut through the tension. “Sanji, stop! What are you even talking about?!” You stared at him, your eyes blazing with tears and indignation. “I don’t ‘love’ Zoro! I never did! He’s my friend, he’s our friend! And I wasn’t ‘moving on’ to anyone! I was just… trying to feel normal again after… after you told me you couldn’t love me back!”

Your voice cracked on the last words, the sheer vulnerability of your confession echoing through the sudden quiet.

Zoro, who had been watching the scene unfold with uncharacteristic stillness, slowly uncrossed his arms. He then pushed himself up, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he glared at Sanji. “You really are an idiot, love-cook,” he sneered, his voice laced with his usual antagonism, but with an underlying edge of genuine anger. “She was never ‘running into my arms.’ She was just trying to stop feeling like shit after you rejected her. Unlike some people, I don't need to be fawned over to be a decent friend. Maybe you should try it sometime, instead of throwing tantrums like a spoiled brat.” He then turned, a rare, softer glance at you. "You okay, Y/N?" he asked, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

Your voice, raw with emotion, hung in the stunned silence of the galley. The accusation of his betrayal, the public exposure of your deepest pain—it was all too much. Your eyes, already burning, prickled with the threat of tears. You couldn't stay. You couldn't endure another second of the tension, the prying eyes, the agonizing presence of Sanji and his twisted understanding of your pain.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, pushing past the stunned Straw Hats. Your vision blurred, but you refused to break down here, not now, not in front of everyone. You marched out of the galley, the swinging door echoing your abrupt departure. The cool sea breeze on deck was a welcome shock, but it did little to quell the storm inside. You hurried to the railing, grasping the cool metal, drawing in deep, shaky breaths. Only one tear, hot and defiant, managed to escape, tracing a path down your cheek before you fiercely blinked it away. You wouldn't cry. Not anymore. Not for this. The vastness of the ocean stretched before you, offering a semblance of calm, a powerful, indifferent presence that mirrored your sudden emptiness.

Back in the galley, the silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the usual lively chaos. Sanji stood frozen, his arm still outstretched from his furious gesture, his face a mask of shock as your words, particularly "after you told me you couldn't love me back," finally registered. His rage, so potent moments before, deflated, leaving behind a profound emptiness and a cold, creeping dread.

Zoro's sharp retort still hung in the air, but his gaze, now fixed on Sanji, was devoid of its usual mockery. It was serious, almost challenging.

Nami was the first to move, her face a mixture of anger and deep concern. "Sanji! What was that?! You just… you just humiliated Y/N! And what do you mean, you 'couldn't love her back'?!" Her voice rose, demanding an explanation.

Usopp and Chopper, huddled together, looked utterly bewildered and heartbroken. "Sanji, you made Y/N cry!" Chopper whimpered, his eyes welling up.

Luffy, unusually quiet, finally spoke, his voice low and serious. "Sanji. What happened?" It wasn't a demand, but a quiet, firm question that cut through the remaining tension.

Sanji slowly lowered his arm, his shoulders slumping. The color had drained from his face, leaving him ashen. His bravado, his anger, had completely evaporated, replaced by a dawning, terrible realization. He had messed up. Royally. He had misinterpreted everything, lashed out, and hurt the one person he was desperately trying to protect.

He turned to face the stunned faces of his crewmates, his gaze unfocused, seeing the anger in Nami's eyes, the confusion in Luffy's, the hurt in Chopper's, and the stern disapproval in Zoro's. His eyes fell on the empty chair where you had been sitting, and the raw truth of your words hit him with the force of a tidal wave. He hadn't seen your heartbreak, only his own twisted fear. He hadn't seen your struggle to heal, only his own jealousy.

"I..." Sanji began, his voice hoarse, barely a whisper. He looked down at his hands, trembling. "I… I was scared." The admission was agonizing, stripped bare for all to hear. He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to look up, his eyes pleading with his crew, but especially with the empty space where you had been. "I thought… if I loved someone again, if I let myself truly love again… I'd lose them. I'd fail them. I couldn't… I couldn't bear to put Y/N through that. I pushed her away… to protect her." His voice broke on the last word, the truth of his selfish fear finally tearing through his carefully constructed defenses. "I didn't... I didn't think she'd actually… leave. And then... seeing her with him..." He gestured vaguely at Zoro, his jealousy still there, but now overshadowed by a crushing wave of regret and self-loathing. "I just... I thought she had moved on. That she didn't… didn't love me anymore." He squeezed his eyes shut, a lone tear escaping and tracing a path through the faint stubble on his jaw. "God, I messed up."

The raw, painful confession hung in the air, revealing Sanji's deep-seated fear and the colossal misunderstanding that had driven his outburst. The crew, though still reeling, watched as his shoulders visibly slumped, his usual confident posture replaced by one of profound defeat. He didn't wait for their reactions, for pity, or for judgment. The image of your retreating figure, the single tear you had fought so hard to suppress, was seared into his mind. He had to fix this. He had to try.

With a sudden, decisive movement, Sanji pushed himself away from the stove. His chair scraped loudly against the floor, a jarring sound in the now silent galley. He didn't spare a glance at Nami's worried face, Luffy's confused frown, or Zoro's scrutinizing gaze. His eyes were fixed on the galley door, the one you had just stormed through.

"I... I have to go," he muttered, his voice still hoarse, but laced with a newfound urgency. He didn't offer an explanation, didn't ask for permission. The need to find you, to explain, to apologize, was an overwhelming tide that swept away all other concerns.

He strode out of the galley, his long legs carrying him quickly down the corridor. He burst onto the main deck, his eyes scanning wildly. The sea breeze whipped at his hair, and the familiar creak of the Thousand Sunny seemed to mock his inner turmoil. He spotted you almost immediately, a solitary figure leaning against the railing at the ship's stern, your back to him, gazing out at the vast, indifferent ocean.

His heart ached at the sight. You looked small, vulnerable, and incredibly distant. He had done that. He had built that distance between you. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Sanji began to walk towards you, each step a testament to the fear he was pushing past, and the desperate hope that it wasn't too late.

Sanji’s steps were hesitant as he approached you, the usual confident swagger gone. The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the rhythmic creak of the Sunny and the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull. He stopped a few feet behind you, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He couldn't see your face, only the stiff set of your shoulders, the way you clutched the railing.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. It was the first time he'd spoken your name without a flourish, without a honorific, and it felt stark, intimate in a way that made his stomach churn with nerves. "I... I'm so sorry."

You didn't move, didn't acknowledge him beyond a slight stiffening of your shoulders. The ocean remained your sole focus.

He took a tentative step closer. "What I said... back there... it was unforgivable. I was a fool." He closed his eyes briefly, the memory of his outburst a fresh wave of shame. "I was angry, and scared, and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair. You didn't deserve that."

Still, you remained silent, your stillness unnerving. He yearned to see your face, to gauge your reaction, but you kept it hidden.

"I know I messed up," he continued, his voice laced with a raw honesty. "When you told me... what you told me that night... I was terrified. Not of you, Y/N, never of you. But of... of losing you. Of hurting you. I've seen what love can cost, and I... I was a coward. I pushed you away because I thought that would keep you safe, keep you from the kind of pain I've carried. But all I did was cause you pain myself."

A soft, almost imperceptible sound escaped you. A sniffle, perhaps. It was enough for Sanji to feel a flicker of hope, a sign you were listening.

"And seeing you with Zoro..." he admitted, his voice softening, tinged with regret, "I just... I misinterpreted it all. I was jealous. Blinded by my own stupid pride and fear. I saw you laughing, being comfortable, and I thought... I thought you had just moved on, that what you said to me didn't mean anything anymore. That was wrong. So incredibly wrong of me." He paused, waiting, hoping for a response.

Finally, your voice, barely a whisper, floated back to him on the breeze. "It hurt, Sanji." Your voice was flat, devoid of emotion, yet the simple statement was a devastating blow. "A lot."

He flinched, the truth of your words a heavy weight in his gut. "I know," he choked out. "And I'll never forgive myself for it. I ruined everything, didn't I? Our friendship... everything."

You finally turned your head, just slightly, enough for him to catch your profile. Your eyes were red-rimmed, but dry, your jaw set. You looked exhausted. "You said you couldn't," you murmured, your voice brittle. "That was the hardest part. Not understanding why."

"Because I'm a damn coward, Y/N!" he burst out, frustration and self-loathing coloring his tone. He stepped closer, reaching out a hand as if to touch your arm, but hesitated, letting it drop. "I was so scared of loving you and then... losing you, that I chose to lose you myself. It was the stupidest, most self-serving decision I've ever made." He took a shaky breath. "Can you... can you ever forgive me?"

The wind whipped around you, tugging at your hair. You looked out at the endless expanse of the ocean, the setting sun painting the clouds in fiery hues. Your gaze was distant, thoughtful. After a long moment, you finally turned fully to face him, your eyes meeting his. The raw hurt was still there, visible in their depths, but beneath it, a faint flicker of something else—resignation, perhaps, or simply exhaustion.

"I..." you began, your voice still quiet, but steady. "I need time, Sanji." You offered nothing more, no promise, no condemnation. Just that simple, clear statement. The possibility of healing, of moving forward, was there, but it wouldn't be easy, and it certainly wouldn't be rushed.

Sanji stood there, absorbing your words. "Time," he repeated, the single word hanging in the air. It wasn't the immediate absolution he desperately craved, but it wasn't a definitive "no" either. It was a thread, fragile but present, in the wreckage of his own making. He knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his aching heart, that he would wait for as long as it took.

The first day after Sanji’s confession and your subsequent departure was thick with an unspoken tension that settled over the Thousand Sunny. Breakfast was quiet, almost unnaturally so. Sanji, though he served everyone with his usual precision, kept his gaze largely fixed on the plates, avoiding eye contact with you. And you, Y/N, felt the weight of every silent glance from the crew, though they admirably tried to act normal. You ate quickly, excusing yourself as soon as possible, seeking refuge on the deck, where the vastness of the ocean offered a strange sense of solace.

The next few weeks were a delicate dance of hesitant overtures and cautious acceptance. Sanji, true to his remorse, began a subtle campaign of making amends. It wasn't about grand gestures; it was in the small, thoughtful ways he always showed his affection, but now directed solely at you, with an added layer of deference.

You’d find your favorite tea waiting for you on the railing when you went to watch the sunrise, perfectly brewed and still warm. Sometimes, a plate of exquisitely prepared fruit would appear beside your usual spot on the deck, cut into perfect, bite-sized pieces, a silent offering. He’d leave small, perfectly arranged pastries outside your cabin door in the mornings, knowing you had a sweet tooth. He never lingered, never forced an interaction, simply left his culinary gifts and retreated, giving you space.

The crew, observing this quiet ballet, maintained a respectful distance, though their hopeful glances were not lost on you. They saw Sanji's obvious remorse and his earnest attempts to bridge the chasm he'd created.

The air between you and Sanji slowly, imperceptibly, began to thin. The biting tension eased into a more subdued awkwardness. You still avoided direct eye contact for the most part, but the sharp pain of his rejection had dulled to a persistent ache.

One afternoon, you were sitting on the deck, attempting to mend a tear in one of Usopp’s worn shirts. The sun was warm, and the ship rocked gently. You heard the familiar clink of ceramic as Sanji approached, placing a small, steaming mug of coffee beside you. It was your favorite blend, black with just a hint of vanilla, exactly how you liked it. He didn't say anything, just set it down and began to turn away.

“Sanji,” you said, your voice a little rusty from disuse, stopping him mid-pivot.

He froze, his back still partially to you, his shoulders tensing. He slowly turned his head, just enough for you to see his profile, his brow furrowed with apprehension.

You took a deep breath, the scent of the coffee filling your nostrils. It was now or never. “Thank you,” you said, gesturing to the mug. “It’s… it’s perfect.”

He turned fully then, his eyes, still guarded, meeting yours. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through him. “Of course, Y/N-chan,” he managed, his voice softer than it had been in weeks, the familiar honorific returning tentatively. “Anything for you.”

The silence stretched again, but this time, it felt less suffocating, less painful. It was a space for tentative breath. You took a sip of the coffee, its warmth spreading through you. “It doesn’t make it all okay, you know,” you said, your voice quiet, honest.

He nodded, a profound sadness in his eyes. “I know,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t expect it to. I just… I hope one day, it won’t hurt so much for you.”

You looked into the rich, dark surface of your coffee, seeing your reflection waver slightly with the ship’s movement. “Me too,” you murmured, the admission a quiet truce, a small, fragile opening in the wall that had been built between you. It wasn't forgiveness, not yet, but it was a beginning.

The quiet exchange over coffee was a delicate first step, a crack in the wall that had separated you and Sanji. In the days that followed, that crack slowly, tentatively, widened. It wasn't an immediate return to the effortless intimacy you once shared; the raw edges of the recent past still lingered, a phantom ache. But the silence that had felt so heavy began to fill with hushed conversations and the gentle hum of renewed connection.

The first few shared moments were tentative. You found yourself drawn back to the galley, not as a constant fixture, but occasionally. You'd sit at the counter, perhaps peeling an apple or sketching in a notebook, while Sanji worked. He'd offer you little samples of what he was preparing, small, perfect bites that were both an apology and an offering of his unwavering care. Your responses were brief at first, a soft "Thank you, Sanji," or a nod of appreciation, but they grew steadier, more comfortable.

One afternoon, you found him meticulously cleaning his collection of pristine cooking knives. You approached cautiously. "Those really are sharp," you commented, a simple observation. He paused, looking up, and for the first time in weeks, a small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Only the best for my lovely crew, Y/N-chan," he replied, the familiar honorific feeling less forced, more like a soft invitation. You stayed there for a while, simply watching him work, the comfortable silence a balm to both your spirits.

He started leaving you little notes with your morning tea—a silly drawing of a swirly brow, a perfectly pressed flower, a recipe for a dessert you once mentioned liking. They were small, almost childlike gestures, a testament to his earnest desire to reconnect. And you, in turn, began to leave him things: a particular herb you found growing on an island, a small, polished seashell, a drawing of him surrounded by hearts (which you quickly scribbled over, much to his amused glance).

You still sought out Zoro's quiet company, finding solace in his unspoken understanding, but now, you also found yourself back on the deck with Sanji, watching the stars. The conversations weren't deep confessions, but gentle, meandering talks about the day, about the sea, about nothing in particular. He wouldn't comment on your past rejections, nor would you bring up his fears. It was simply about being together again, slowly rebuilding the easy rhythm of your connection. He no longer looked at Zoro with overt jealousy, and you no longer felt the need to hide your interactions with the swordsman. The tension, though not entirely gone, had softened into a quiet understanding.

The Straw Hats watched this gradual reconciliation with a mixture of relief and quiet satisfaction. Nami and Robin, ever perceptive, exchanged knowing glances, a silent acknowledgement of the healing happening before their eyes. They saw the lingering hurt in your eyes, but also the tentative warmth returning, and the genuine remorse in Sanji's guarded expressions.

Luffy, after his initial confusion, simply seemed happy that his two friends were talking and spending time together again. He'd occasionally try to rope you both into his antics, a silent test of the re-established camaraderie.

Usopp and Chopper were overjoyed. "Look, Sanji and Y/N are talking again!" Chopper would whisper excitedly to Usopp, who'd nod with a knowing grin. They missed the familiar dynamic between you two, and seeing it slowly return filled them with childlike glee.

Even Zoro, in his own gruff way, seemed content. He'd occasionally catch Sanji watching you, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, and a rare, almost imperceptible smirk would cross Zoro’s face. He saw that Sanji was finally putting in the effort, acknowledging his mistakes, and that was enough. The tension that had permeated the ship had begun to dissipate, replaced by a sense of calm, a hopeful return to the harmonious chaos that defined the Straw Hat Pirates.

The tentative steps taken in the galley and on the deck slowly, but surely, led to deeper connections. The walls between Y/N and Sanji began to crumble, brick by painful brick, replaced by the familiar comfort of shared vulnerabilities and, most importantly, laughter. It wasn't the forced politeness of the initial weeks, nor the strained awkwardness of the first interactions. This was genuine, unrestrained mirth, a sound that had been sorely missed on the Thousand Sunny.

The shift was most evident during meal times. You found yourself gravitating back to your old seat near him, the casual brush of your shoulders no longer causing a flinch but a quiet warmth. You’d catch his eye from across the table, and a shared smirk would pass between you when Luffy did something particularly outrageous, a silent inside joke that needed no words.

One evening, while Sanji was meticulously plating dessert, he accidentally slipped on a rogue banana peel left by Luffy, doing a comical, flailing dance before catching himself just before he hit the deck. The sound of a genuine, unrestrained giggle burst from you, bright and clear. Sanji, momentarily mortified, looked up to see you clutching your stomach, tears of laughter streaming down your face. Instead of his usual dramatic sulk, a small, sheepish grin spread across his face, and he let out a chuckle himself, the sound a rusty but welcome melody. That shared moment of unadulterated amusement felt like a breakthrough, a vital return to the lightness you once effortlessly shared.

Soon, the galley became a place of easy laughter once more. You’d tease him about his overly dramatic reactions to Nami’s requests, or playfully challenge his insistence that carrots were always inferior to other vegetables. He, in turn, would jest about your occasional clumsiness or your tendency to hum off-key while you worked. The familiar, comfortable banter flowed between you like a river finding its natural course, washing away the last lingering remnants of tension.

Outside the galley, your interactions blossomed too. He’d still bring you tea or snacks, but now he’d stay, leaning against the railing beside you, sharing quiet observations about the passing islands or the starry sky. Sometimes, he’d recount a funny anecdote from his past, or share a new recipe idea with an almost childlike enthusiasm, and your genuine interest would light up his eyes. You, in turn, found yourself opening up about your own experiences, sharing stories and insights you hadn't voiced since the rift between you two had formed.

The crew, having witnessed the tumultuous journey, felt the palpable relief in the ship's atmosphere. Nami would often smile to herself, a soft, contented expression on her face, when she overheard your laughter mingling with Sanji’s. Chopper would bounce excitedly, delighted to see his two beloved friends back to their old selves. Even Zoro, who continued to share his quiet, unwavering friendship with you, would occasionally offer a subtle nod of approval in Sanji's direction, a silent acknowledgment that the love-cook was finally getting his act together. The Thousand Sunny hummed with a renewed warmth, a testament to the resilient bonds of its unconventional family.

While your relationship with Sanji had healed, returning to a comfortable closeness filled with laughter, the unspoken question of your romantic feelings still lingered, a gentle undercurrent beneath the surface of your renewed friendship. Sanji, still bearing the weight of his past rejection and your subsequent hurt, hadn't broached the subject again, content to rebuild your bond slowly and genuinely.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Sanji had been having clandestine talks with a certain navigator with a penchant for Berry and a surprisingly strategic mind: Nami. Seeing the genuine affection that had always existed between you and Sanji, and witnessing his sincere remorse, Nami had taken it upon herself to give him a little… push.

One evening, as the Thousand Sunny sailed under a sky dusted with a million stars, Nami casually steered you towards the deck after dinner. "Come look at the moon, Y/N! It's supposed to be particularly beautiful tonight," she said, a little too enthusiastically.

As you stepped onto the deck, you were met with a sight that made your heart skip a beat. Sanji stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the ship's lanterns, looking uncharacteristically dapper in a well-fitting suit. In his hand, he held a small bouquet of vibrant red roses. He looked nervous, his usual confident swagger replaced by a charmingly vulnerable demeanor.

Nami, with a sly wink, subtly backed away, leaving you two alone. Sanji took a deep breath, his gaze locked on yours, a warmth spreading through his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long time.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a little shaky but filled with sincerity. "After everything that happened… after my stupid mistakes… I realized something very important. Pushing you away was the biggest regret of my life. My fear almost cost me the most precious thing I've ever known." He stepped closer, the roses held out in offering. "You are kind, you are strong, you are the most amazing person I've ever met. And every moment I spend with you, even just laughing in the galley, makes my world brighter."

He paused, his gaze searching yours. "Y/N… I know I don't deserve it, not after everything. But… would you give me another chance? Would you let me love you, properly this time? Because I am, wholeheartedly, irrevocably, in love with you."

The air crackled with unspoken emotions. The stars twinkled above, silent witnesses to this long-awaited moment. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a joy that had been dormant for too long finally blossoming. A soft smile touched your lips as you reached out, gently taking the roses from his trembling hand.

"Yes, Sanji," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "Yes, I would."

A wave of relief washed over Sanji's face, quickly followed by a radiant grin that lit up his features. He stepped closer, his eyes filled with a love that mirrored your own, and gently cupped your cheek. The Thousand Sunny, sailing smoothly under the starlit sky, finally felt complete.

The word hung in the air, a delicate bridge spanning the chasm of past hurts. "Yes, Sanji," you whispered, and the relief that washed over Sanji's face was immediate, profound, and utterly transforming. His usual suave demeanor, which had been a mask for so long, melted away, revealing a raw, pure joy. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, and then, slowly, reverently, he leaned in. The kiss was soft, tentative at first, a question and an answer, before deepening into a heartfelt embrace that sealed the long journey back to each other.

The Thousand Sunny, ever the silent observer, seemed to hum with a newfound warmth. The stars above twinkled brighter, and the gentle rocking of the ship felt like a lullaby of contentment. When you finally pulled apart, breathless, your eyes locked with his. The love shining in his gaze was unmistakable, mirroring the radiant warmth now blooming in your own heart. It was a love that had been tested, nearly broken, but had ultimately endured.

The Straw Hats, ever perceptive, hadn't missed the private moment unfolding on deck. Nami, who had orchestrated the confession, let out a soft sigh of satisfaction, a small, knowing smile gracing her lips. She nudged Luffy, who had been quietly watching the scene with unusual focus.

"They finally did it!" Usopp whispered excitedly to Chopper, who was bouncing on his hooves with glee.

Zoro, leaning against the mast with his arms crossed, simply grunted. But a faint, almost imperceptible smirk played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the successful, if dramatic, resolution.

The next morning, the Thousand Sunny felt lighter, filled with an almost palpable sense of joy. Sanji, true to form, outdid himself with breakfast, laying out a feast fit for kings and queens. His usual "Nami-swan! Robin-chan!" greetings were still there, but his eyes constantly sought yours, a soft, private smile just for you.

You found yourself sitting closer to him at the table, your hand occasionally brushing his under the table, a secret language passing between you. The crew, now fully aware of your newfound status, couldn't contain their excitement. Luffy cheered, Usopp and Chopper danced around the galley, and even Franky let out a booming "SUPER!" of approval.

The teasing was immediate and good-natured. Franky declared you both the "SUPER LOVE-LOVE COUPLE!" while Brook composed an impromptu, albeit slightly off-key, song about love on the high seas. Sanji, usually flustered by such attention, simply preened, his arm naturally finding its way around your waist, pulling you closer.

The journey ahead was still fraught with danger and adventure, but now, you faced it not just as a crew, but as a couple, your love a new, vibrant thread in the already strong tapestry of the Straw Hat Pirates. The difficult times had forged a bond of understanding and patience, a foundation upon which a beautiful future could finally be built.

[vidavalor]

crowley could have just gotten a box at the post office for that mail?

Hi there 💕 Yes, he could have, but that wouldn't have helped him achieve his goal. I think that Crowley wanted his mail still going to the old flat as a way of helping to convince Shax that he was living in his car.

A magical being like Crowley could have easily miracled himself up a new opportunity for a flat or taken over a swanky hotel suite to use as a base of operations. The problem with doing that for Crowley was that, well... then he'd have to actually live there. Hell's spies would need to see evidence of Crowley living at the new place most nights in order to buy it and Crowley didn't really want to have to do all of that. He already had a home, if not a place he could officially declare his address.

For Crowley, getting a new flat would have meant nights away from his angel and their home in the bookshop. He already long since had a routine of spending the night with Aziraphale and slipping out just before dawn to his car a few streets over. [The Romeo & Juliet of it all...] Crowley was in the car in the early mornings hours already a lot anyway, so he had Shax meet him there a few times, making it seem like he had been there all night, when he had really only been there for a little while since after sun up.

Aziraphale didn't realize that Crowley was no longer living in Mayfair because the only time he's not consistently around Crowley is between dawn and around noon most days, when Crowley stays away from the bookshop in an effort to keep Heaven and Hell's spies from thinking that he spent the night there.

You can hear the church bells in the background of the first St. James' Park scene in 1.01 signaling noon. Even after Armageddon starting, they waited until nearly noon the next day to meet, to avoid being seen together in the mornings. The car is parked on a side street a short drive away after business hours so no one knows he is there at night. That's how he was a few streets over from the bookshop in 2.01 and where the car was in 1.01 after The Ritz, when they were planning for Crowley to stay into the night.

This is also how Mrs. Sandwich knew Crowley in S2, but Nina didn't. Mrs. Sandwich works at night diagonally across from the side door to the bookshop, but Nina works across the street, beginning just after daylight. She only met Crowley in 2.01 for the first time, whereas Crowley and Mrs. Sandwich are friends.

Crowley didn't tell Aziraphale that Shax had taken over his job or flat because he didn't want to pressure him into formalizing the fact that they were basically living together-- especially when Aziraphale was struggling to deal with the chickens of Heaven's abuse of him coming home to roost.

Aziraphale didn't just initially figure it out, though, because, aside from Crowley's curious new habit of driving around with baby plants in his backseat lol, nothing much had actually changed. He assumed that Crowley was going to his flat sometimes in the mornings the way that Crowley had been doing for decades. Crowley didn't even really have to move anything into the bookshop in order to more effectively be living there. As we saw in S2, he had clothes and books there already.

Aziraphale learned that Crowley didn't have the flat anymore when Shax got into The Bentley. He presumably put it together with the plants living in the car and assumed correctly that Crowley had told the Satan-aligned Shax that he was living in his car to keep her from figuring out that he was living in the bookshop. Aziraphale then immediately insisted that Crowley didn't have Gabriel because "where would he put him?"-- backing up Crowley's lie that he was living in his car to deflect from the truth of them living together.

Later, Crowley asking Shax for his flat back is laughable because there is no way on Earth that Crowley would ever willingly live in that prison cell again. The place that isn't actually his but owned by Hell? The one where he was very much unsafe and had been canonically attacked in before? Yeah, Crowley loathed that place. This was all show:

He didn't show so to Shax when she showed up to take it, but he was so happy to be free of it. Still, Crowley didn't want Hell to know that, though. He saw the top demons left about to go back to Hell and report to Satan on what just went down in the bookshop so he quickly jumped in to ask Shax to give him his flat back, reiterating one more time the idea that he had been living in his car.

So, yes, he could have gotten a P.O. Box and/or a new flat, but that would have meant he had to spend time away from Aziraphale convincing Hell that he had a different residence. It was more effective to just let what of his mail he ever had delivered to the Mayfair flat to keep going to Shax as proof that he didn't have another residence. Anything to keep her and Satan from having proof that Crowley's address is A.Z. Fell & Co., 104 Whickber Street, London.

[kuidore]

MiRomAbby headcanons 👙 Beach episode 🌺 KPOP Demon Hunters 🌺 Mira x Romance x Abby 🌊🌺

🪼 Abby is the designated driver wherever they go, whether or not they’re actually drinking. Mira would rather control the music and put her legs on the dashboard. Romance does not know how to operate a motor vehicle and he refuses to learn

🪼 Romance ‘called dibs on shotgun’, sprinted to the car, and then proceeded to get out and move to the backseat anyways. All Mira had to do was stand by the passenger window and stare

🪼 he takes her beach bag to put in the trunk and closes the car door for her too

🪼 romance proceeds to whine the whole drive about being ‘abandoned and lonely’ in the backseat

🪼 mira threatens to stuff him in the trunk if he doesn’t shut his trap

🪼 She’s out of the car before it’s even parked, basically skipping as she went to grab their stuff

🪼 She opens the trunk and has to resist the urge to grab the single-person rain umbrella and beat Romance half to death with it

🪼 “in my humble defense, all you said was ‘grab the umbrella’ Pinkie! I’ve only ever seen the one! I was not aware of other umbrellas!”

🪼 Mira puts him in a headlock, so preoccupied with his idiocy she forgets that she already ditched her shirt when it got too warm in the car and is in just shorts and a bikini top

🪼Romance grins, completely fine with this arrangement

🪼 it takes her a second to click why he’s not even trying to get free, and then she whacks him in the head when she realizes where he’s decided to happily rest his face

🪼”get off of my tits you pervert!”

🪼 “you put me in a headlock! you got me ‘on them’ in the first place!”

🪼 Abby is doubled over the hood of the car, wheezing like a rubber dog toy and banging his fist so hard on the car Mira thinks he’s gonna dent the metal

🪼 She and Romance aren’t far behind. They’re like the worst harmony in the entire world, exactly the type of off-key wheezing and rhythmless thumps you might expect of, say, a band from hell.

🪼 She has to lean against the car door to keep her own balance

🪼 Romance is on his hands and knees on the concrete looking like a cat about to spit out a hairball

🪼 Once they’ve calmed down, Mira makes them both go drive to a store to get a real beach umbrella.

🪼 she finds a place to put their towels that’s a little more secluded from the crowd, near the parking lot instead of the playground, where the water lapped at a rocky shoreline which gradually inclined to steep cliffs in the distance

🪼 they come back with an umbrella. and a bunch of pool toys. and a giant pink seashell floatie they thought Mira would like (she does). and a new cooler

🪼 Mira had been too preoccupied by the rain umbrella to consider the ramifications of sending them together without supervision or a budget

🪼First thing she actually looks at is what’s in the cooler, crunching a piece of ice between her teeth. The cooler is like, a camping size, twice the size of the one they originally brought, which was already full of fruit, water, juice, and energy drinks

🪼 she was a bit concerned

🪼it contained; chocolate, soda, marshmallows, more one box of ice cream bars and popsicles, and -

🪼 “How did you even get alcohol? Neither of you have any ID!”

🪼 “Don’t worry about it ( ◠‿◠ )( ◠‿◠ )”

🪼 She worries about it.

🪼 Mira has set up the umbrella and her beach towel, gotten herself situated, and cracked open a drink by the time they empty everything from the car

🪼 they made their bed, they could lie in it. Mira was comfy already, leaning back on her hands with her legs stretched beyond the protection of the umbrella’s shadow

🪼 “Slowpokes,” she sticks her tongue out at them when Romance kicked sand in her direction

🪼 She grumbles about having to fit it all back in the car on the way back

🪼 Abby sits criss-cross applesauce (his terminology. where he learned it from Mira had no clue (the answer is Mystery, who learned it from Zoey)) on his own towel and assures her they’ll pile it in the backseat on top of Romance

🪼 Mira agrees immediately

🪼 Romance pushes between them, wraps his arms around their shoulders, and whines about being ganged up on, “unfairly targeted” by their “cruel and merciless taunting”

🪼 “You’ll survive, pretty boy”

🪼 She then spends the next ten minutes trying to get those fuckers off her and prevent them all from getting a public indecency charge

🪼 Abby won’t let up until she calls him pretty too

🪼 Mira refuses to let either of them help her put on her sunscreen

🪼 Romance gets smug about how she won’t be able to reach her own back by herself

🪼 Mira is hypermobile with long limbs

🪼 she raises an eyebrow, and slowly she folds her arms behind her back with her palms flat together, in a prayer position. then she moves slightly to grab each protruding scapula with the hand on the same side. all with no issue

🪼 she gives no context. and really there isn’t any. she can just do that. humans can just do odd things sometimes

🪼 Both Romance and Abby are watching her like

🪼 Romance tries to do it and can’t even touch his hands together. his shoulders ache just from trying

🪼 abby is just concerned.

🪼 They realize now how she’s able to move the way she does in a fight, doing things that should get her a dislocated joint at the very least and her own blade lodging itself in a her limb at the worst

🪼 they’re scared and a little turned on. if their attraction to her had a catch phrase that would probably be it.

🪼 Mira is sick of them (affectionate)

🪼 abby is the guy who brings a bunch of buckets and spends hours makes the most elaborate sandcastle you’ve ever seen

🪼 Romance immediately tries to sit shoulder to shoulder on the same towel as Mira, and promptly gets his butt pushed onto the sand

🪼 Romance is bugging Mira to go into the water before her sunscreen is totally dry, threatening to sprinkle sand all over her

🪼 She just stares at him over the rims of her sunglasses until he drops the handful he was holding up threateningly

🪼 “Good boy”

🪼 Mira knew exactly what she was doing. Getting herself a second of peace while Romance was busy short circuiting.

🪼 Served him right.

🪼 The peace is interrupted when she turns to look back at Abby and finds him like, an inch from her face. He is literally underneath the wide brim of her black sun hat. She almost screams.

🪼 He’s pouting. It takes her a second to realize why, and she doesn’t even try to stop herself from smiling and rolling her eyes.

🪼 Abby grins victoriously when she tells him that he was a good boy too, pecks her on the lips, and goes back to his sandcastle

🪼 Abby announces whenever he stands up to go get water, as if Mira or Romance were gonna start panicking because he’d walked to a place that was still within their eyesight

🪼 Mira had brought a sketchbook for while she tanned, but she was was entertained enough just watching Abby jog back and forth across the sand

🪼 even if he hadn’t taken his shirt off yet.

🪼 They bought new swimsuits because Romance and Abby literally didn’t own any. and Mira wanted an excuse to go shopping

🪼 Mira is wearing a zebra-print bikini, with low-rise bottoms and star-shaped beads on adorning the end of the strings tied around her neck

🪼 Romance is in a mid-thigh pair of bubblegum pink swim trunks with a black heart pattern.

🪼 Abby has a new pink Aloha shirt

🪼 Romance stole Abby’s seafoam green one even though it did not match

🪼 Abby has on a pair of black palm-tree-patterned swim trunks that were just a bit too small

🪼 It was all they had in that style, and that was the only one Mira liked aside from the ones she picked for Romance. all the other ones were ugly.

🪼 (Mira totally did it on purpose)

🪼 She doesn’t even bother hiding the fact that she’s staring at his ass

🪼 Romance proceeds to stand up, block her sun completely, and complain about her not staring at his ass

🪼 She shrugs, looking a little too smug when she holds out a hand for Romance to help her up

🪼 He’s still pouting when he does, but he can’t even keep it up because Mira walks past him and slaps his ass on her way towards the water

🪼 He goes bright red

🪼 It’s loud enough that Abby turns around, concerned, but Mira can hear him putting the pieces together before he starts laughing

🪼 Romance starts cussing at him

🪼 He’s still standing by the umbrella by the time she hits the water, turning back to look over her shoulder as waves lapped at her ankles

🪼 Romance was staring at her, his face nearly blending in with his hair from so far away. She just waves and yells at him to hurry up

🪼 He hurries up alright. Before she realizes it he’s basically right in front of her, wrapping his arms around her upper thighs and and tossing her over his shoulder

🪼 She has a habit of calling Romance skinny to get on his nerves, but he really isn’t. He’s just as ridiculously strong as his lovers and he knows it too. he’s just constantly standing next to Abby

🪼 She let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scream, engaging her core just barely in time to stop her face from dipping right under the water

🪼 She’s not quite as fast as she wanted to be, and now the bun on top of her head was lopsided and her hair is totally soaked. Bastard.

🪼 Romance forgot that their torsos were almost the same length, so her nose would be about level with where the water lapped at his navel piercing if she totally relaxed

🪼 (Mira and Romance have have matching belly button piercings. Abby would have one too but they haven’t convinced him. yet. He’s scared of needles)

🪼 Romance helped her to sit up on his left shoulder when he realizes that he’s basically forcing her to plank or stick her head under the water

🪼 her leg is pressed against his neck, his ear against the curve of her hip is and her thigh under his jaw. her hand is splayed across his free shoulder for balance. the other was resting on the wrist of the arm hooked up and around her thighs

🪼 goes until the water is hitting his collarbones, sets her on a half-submerged rock and pulls himself up to sit beside her

🪼”Hm. we keep meeting like this” he’s got a stupid shitface grin on as he leans in close to her . She can hear the laughter behind his attempt at a seductive purr

🪼 “Disgusting. Get off me, freak”

🪼 Mira is leaning her head against Romance’s face, his nose barely pressed against her cheek. She’s got an arm around his waist, her fingers are gripping his hip on the opposite side. His arm is around her shoulder, his other hand bracing their combined weight against the rock so neither of them fell.

🪼 He couldn’t get off her if he tried

🪼 She notices Abby looking from his castle to the water. She waves her free hand above her head and she can see him perk up

🪼 Romance shifts so there’s more empty room on the rock, half-draped around Mira with his chin on her shoulder. He raises an arm and waves at Abby too, less of a greeting and more of a beckon

🪼 Mira has an okay view from her peripheral. She turns her head a bit to stare at Romance’s stupid pretty face anyways. He smiles back at her.

🪼 Romance always gets a little giddy when he sees Mira staring at him. which happens much more than she’ll ever admit or he’ll ever notice.

🪼 She’s just about to ask if they should go and drag him in when she sees Abby abandoning his precious sand palace and taking off his shirt

🪼 Finally

🪼 Mira sticks her fingers in her mouth and whistles at him

🪼 Romance complains about not getting a whistle

🪼 “You are such a whiney little bastard,”

🪼 She says it in the same tone as a woman saying wedding vows, patting his cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips

🪼 Romance figures it’s a fair trade

🪼 Abby doesn’t, and he’s able to keep pouting about it for a whole… five seconds?

🪼 Mira and Romance both lean down off the rock in and press kisses to opposite sides of his face, barely an inch away from the corners of Abby’s lips.

🪼 then he’s grinning again

[spartancommander-2874]

As Auri rifled through the other bits and bobs strewn about the observatory level, the Gears’ conversation drifted over to her. Figures they’d pick up on something. Hopefully she’d be out of their hair before needing to reveal her AI’s presence.

Speaking of…

“Noe, any updates?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I’ve poured through and analyzed every star map this place had to offer. I’ve gone through it all several times now and have checked it all against the coordinates for Requiem. Commander, it simply isn’t there.”

That last sentence stopped the Spartan’s pacing. No. No, that couldn’t be right. That didn’t make sense at all.

“Check it again.” Her tone came out neutral. Clipped.

“I did. As I stated before, there was some data corruption within the archives-“

“So, then there’s chance.”

“No. There isn’t. Before Emergence Day, whatever team that was stationed here had been able to chart out the section of space where Requiem should have been located. There is irrefutable evidence that shield world is not where it’s supposed to be.”

“But that doesn’t- How- I don’t-“ Her sentences kept starting and stopping before Auri gritted her teeth and forced herself to physically stop what she was doing and take in a damn breath. “Explain.” It was bullshit. How in the fuck could Requiem not even be there? Simply not exist? It couldn’t have been taken out just like that. Those star charts were decades old by now. The planet should be there.

“We’re both aware of how advanced Forerunner technology is. There’s still so much to learn about them.”

“The one we did meet wanted to kill us.”

“Exception. Not the rule,” Noesis chided before continuing. “I’ve been analyzing the footage of our escape and moments before we jumped through the portal, the main terminal took a direct hit from one of those Prometheans. Likely to stall our flight or simply have the portal kill us outright. I believe the timing was just right that the wiring got crossed in such a way that the portal bridged the gap between our universe and this one.”

“You can’t be serious-“ Auri started to balk when she finally tuned back into the goings on around Delta team. That was actually when she realized that ever present asshole was missing. Strange. Wasn’t he-?

Scoping out a massive horde of locust some meters below their feet. Fuck.

She’d deal with her anxiety and AI’s outrageous theory about inter dimensional portals later. Right now, they needed to leave. She approached the same monitor she had briefly dropped Noesis off in and withdrew the construct as she neared Marcus.

“I’ve got what I needed, Sergeant. There’s… a lot to go over. Later. Let’s get rolling before those things know we’re here. Does Baird know if our exit is still clear? Can we get out safely that way?"

@bigmouthgenius

This was supposed to be a simple smash and grab. Get the blueprints of the place, locate the objective, nab it and run.

In and out.

Easy enough, right?

Nope.

There was a security program that had been running passively in the background that not even the team’s AI had detected while pilfering the system and she had Forerunner code built directly into her matrix. Alarms began to blare loudly, alerting the Prometheans of offending intruders, once the data left its protective, holographic casing. Their fireteam leader quickly placed a hand on the terminal and green pixels flowed up her gauntleted arm and into a slot on the back of her helmet indicating their AI had come home. Without another word, the trio of Spartan IVs took off, wanting to be as far away from this place as physically possible.

Red blips began pinging off their motion trackers during their flight through the ancient complex and the digitized roars of anger echoed off down the halls. Their AI, Noesis, was still tapped into the local network and began to shut down the massive gray-white doors to cut off their pursuers or at the very least slow them down.

Evac was well on the other side of the facility in the form of a D79-TC Pelican dropship. Their pilot, Spartan Kent, had already activated the autopilot, calling the dropship in closer as the LZ was going to be hot by the time they got to it. A pair of beam turrets popped up in front of bulkhead doors at the end of one hall and began firing white-hot lasers at the fleeing super soldiers, forcing them off their current path and to take a hard right down another hallway to avoid being melted down to slag.

A Promethean Knight had sprung forward seemingly out of nowhere toward the Spartans as they attempted to dodge the turret fire and had nearly pinned their XO to the wall with its gun when it received a shotgun shell to the side of its head. With the creature down, they continued onward with their flight.

“Finally! We’re almost out of here!” came the Spartan to their XO’s left. Her IFF transponder marked her as Cordova, Caterina A.

“About time. I think we’ve really riled up the locals. Kent,” their fireteam leader replied then glanced to the right at their other squad mate. “Kent, once we get out, get that pelican ready for transport. We need to get the hell out of here ASAP before they call in for more reinforcements. Last thing we need is for the Storm Covies clogging up the air.”

“Way ahead of you, ma’am!” came her companion’s reply.

Just as they reached the last stretch, however, a Promethean had teleported meters away from the exit and brought an Incineration Cannon up to bear. The weapon began to charge, red light glowing like death. Right as the thing fired, their commander cried out, “Move it!”, before diving out of the way herself. The creature must’ve been in the local network as well as it was fighting for control over the doorways and cut the commander off from the other two. She rolled up onto her feet just in time to jerk to the side to avoid another blast.

“Commander?! Auri-?”

“Hey, you still-?”

“Get outside! I’ll meet you at the LZ. This place is going to be crawling with Knights shortly. I don’t want them bringing down our bird before we even get out of here,” she called back over their COMMs.

Spartan Kent paused briefly before responding so his counterpart took over. “Yes ma’am! Noesis is still feeding us a map of the area and there’s another exit out here. We’ll see you outside.”

“Copy!”

The Knight attempted to fire on the Spartan once more and just before it released the trigger, a well thrown grenade took it out of its misery. Reloading her weapons and taking a quick stock of what was leftover, Noesis, the team’s AI, wormed her way past the defenses the Knight had thrown up and unlocked one doorway, placing a waypoint that led to the exit on the Spartan’s HUD. The commander took off and was forced to double back twice due to an influx of hostiles. Out of nowhere, a brilliant flash of blue and black lit up a doorway to the Four’s left. Hovering there, of its own volition apparently, was a portal. She was really backed into a corner right now, with Prometheans encroaching on her location. The construct hiding within her helmet was already following her line of thought before the woman even voiced her plan.

“Commander, as much as I’d like to be out of here, we don’t know where that portal leads,” Noesis protested.

“Anywhere’s better than here. They’re already starting to wrest control from you and you’ve already transferred over the data to Roland, right?” Auri had already started to back up toward the swirling vortex. Sure enough, another entrance on the far side of the room had opened up, revealing a mass of very angry Promethean Knights who thought they had the human cornered.

“Yes but…” the AI said, her sentence petering off. Oh hell. Her Spartan had already made up her mind and there was no changing it. “I’m notifying the others and I don’t think these Knights are going to wait much longer!” Moments before the Forerunner constructs could pounce, the Spartan dove into the portal’s center and her world went black and the machine shut off.

---

She could feel her body being spun this way and that. Her skin being tugged hard off her bones as she fell end over end. Or so it seemed.

Auri’s shields flared up as an unknown source drained the batteries until they cracked and died for a few seconds, the annoying alarm blaring right in her ear. Her equilibrium was way off and it felt as though she remained within the portal network for far longer than before although she couldn’t tell how much time had passed since she had taken the plunge.

Without warning, a hole suddenly opened up and spat her out into the dirt rather unceremoniously. The Spartan rolled to a stop, head spinning violently and she swallowed down the urge to throw up. Any attempt at getting to her feet were met with major protest as her vision swam sickeningly. Shutting her eyes tightly against the light filtering through her faceplate, the commander took in a few slow, deep breaths before rising up to her knees carefully. Her stomach was still her throat and her head throbbed something awful but she was alive and surprisingly in one piece. A few meters away from her, the portal floated and seemed to shudder. Had the Spartan not been paying attention, she wouldn’t have caught that slight waver that indicated something was off.

“Okay, good. You’re alright,” came her AI’s soft voice. “We may have a tail. Prometheans may have followed us and… I don’t think that portal is going to last much longer. We need to get clear of the blast radius and into cover.” Noesis sounded almost distracted and for a second, the Four couldn’t pin down what had caught her attention.

“Great… You don’t have to tell me twice,” Auri replied, turned around to get moving and stopped.

Oh.

That’s why.

They weren’t on Requiem anymore.

[no-vara]

Survivors + [Reader ex survivor turning killer] Forsaken! Pt3! (Pt1, Pt2 and Pt4 right here!)

Tw: Death, small gore, stalkingish, self doubt, animal death, mention of kidnapping.

[Reader] gets She/They!

Enjoy! (ps remember they turn killer in pt2-pt3 (or however many parts this will have)!)

You felt like your world was ending, all because of them. Killers were…well mercilessly killers. Enough said. So them actually debating whether to let you be a killer or not was…shocking to say the least. But you didn’t fuss about it.

The three were speaking in low whispers in front of you, so inaudible you couldn’t hear. Instead, you decided to focus on living, and you tried to think of lies you could say. If they said “Prove you want to be a killer.” What could you possibly say to prove it? Plus didn’t the Specter choose who was and wasn’t a killer?

Ugh whatever, you couldn’t focus from the lack of air in your lungs—they felt like they were on fire. No matter how much you breathed, it felt like Azure caused internal damage. You wouldn’t forget how him choking you earlier—hurt. It hurt worse than any death that has ever happened. Then again now you have a chance to learn way more about the killers.

Before you could bring your mind back to the present, Azure plopped you down on a log next to their fire place. You scooted away from the flames on instinct. The heat was suffocating—unbearable. You couldn’t tell if they were trying to annoy you but they added more fire wood, the fire dancing as high as it could before simmering down. It reminded you of your past ice-skater performances.

God—you missed that life.

But there was no time for nostalgia or longing. Clenching your fists you listened as they spoke, the words weren’t aimed at you—but it was better to listen and observe. You’d learn more by staying quiet anyway.

“1 S@Y L3T$ S33 WH4T TĦE SPĒĆȚEŘ ÐÈÇÐ1Ď3S 0N.” Noli started off with, raising his hands in a grand gesture.

The Specter? The killers could speak to that lunatic? Clearly the confusion on your face was evident because you heard 1x4 and Azure scoff. Or perhaps that was just because they hated you, and guess what? You hated them too! That didn’t matter too much because 1x4 was The Creation Of Hatred. So it didn’t bother you.

But that simple statement caused more questions to pop up in your head.

“She could be a spy.” Azure’s hat chimed in. Your head snapped to them. What did he just say? A spy? FOR THE KILLERS?! “…Until further investigation on her. Plus then we could slowly start to trust her—and maybe the Specter will officially turn her into a killer.”

“P3RF3CŤ!” Noli exclaimed.

“H-how does that even work…? The entire…Specter turning you killer thing.” You slowly prodded at the answer.

They all just froze and exchanged glances, they couldn’t answer since someone came and loomed over you. Their shadow making them look twice as big.

“What are you guys doing with a survivor? Playing a game of tag—WITHOUT ME?” C00lkidd accused with little to no evidence.

“No, we’re just…questioning her. According to Noli.” 1x4 pauses before adding, “you two—I mean—three can deal with her.”

He stepped away not wasting any time.

After that everything was just poking, prodding and planning. Oh and lots of yelling. Who knew killers yelled so much? Or at least it was loud to you, you weren’t accustomed to loud noises.

According to them the plan was simple…so ‘simple’. Everyday you would spy on the survivors, tell the killers everything their planning and doing, try to sabotage them, and come back to report. And the killers would assess you everyday…whatever that meant. Noli just said it would be fun and it would slowly help show them and the Specter that you were officially a bad guy. Yay…?

At first it was awkward for you, you didn’t exactly know how to spy or what to do. Plus everyone noticed you getting distant, and the killers…noticed you were getting closer. They were an extremely fun group. No more pizza daily, you would shit talk about those stupid survivors, such as Chance’s HORRID humor. And as for the assessments…it was something new and fun every day like—

Set a fire near the survivors cabin, or even IN the cabin. Catch a deer that the Specter spawned using your chains then brutally murder it…yeah. You weren’t the one for animal abuse so that one was awkward. But something felt weird, apparently since the Specter was the one in charge of this entire realm he could control every little thing.

According to what the others had told you, the Specter would just watch and slowly change you up until…well…even they don’t know what happens when you’re ready. 1x4 described it as brutally painful but it would give you new and better abilities.

Thats what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be strong? At first it wasn’t noticeable, the effects of the ‘change’ as they called it. But it was there. Getting dizzier quicker, lack of breath, your body feeling weird, the inability to use your ability. It all was there but you ignored it, you had too. Soon you could stop spying on the killers. You were just faking this whole thing anyway….

Eventually you weren’t just faking—but you never admitted it to yourself. Or to anyone else. During rounds while the killers were chasing you, it was more of a playful test to see how much faster you could run than last round. And they made the deaths quick and painless, often sparing you for last.

It was the best thrill of your life, and you quickly got the hang of spying. Any time the survivors would have a plan on how to gang up on the killers, it failed—all because of you. But you still weren’t a killer yet.

After another excruciatingly boring dinner you headed out. Your feet guiding you were to go without you even looking at the path. Plus the loud chatter of the killers could never be mistaken. Sneaking up behind Jason, creeping up then yelling—

“BOO!” The reaction wasn’t as great as you wanted but hey. It was still funny.

He revved his chainsaw at you before realizing who you were. He narrowed his eyes underneath his mask before lowering it and waving. You waved back. A small silent friendship actually formed between the two of you.

“B00!”—“BOO!” Two voices yelled in unison. Without even meaning to you jumped.

C00lkidd laughed before pulling on your arm and hugging you. Jesus that kid was strong, you almost collapsed when he tugged at your arm. Holding yourself up, you patted his head as he hugged you. Resisting the instinct to summon your chains on him.

Three people at camp were missing but you didn’t bother asking, most likely patrol anyway. Then you remembered why you were here.

“Survivors are their usual boring selves, no one’s suspicious of me and nothing new is up. Ignoring that—what’s my next task?” You questioned.

“ÅH…” Noli smiled, stepping closer to you. The sudden lack of distance between the two of you made your stomach turn—in a ‘you’re in danger’ way.

It was sorta like your third ability.

“Ŷ0UR ËAĞER, TĦÄT$ GŘ3AȚ. AŞ 0F ŶØŮR ÁŚS1GNM3NT…ŴĦ0ŚE YØŪR FÁV0ÚR1T3 S4RVIV0R?”

“Uh….” Oh, you actually haven’t thought of that. “They all suck.” You answered plainly. It felt like you dodged a bullet.

“0H Ç’M0N. P1CK 0N3.” Noli urged for an answer.

“007n7 is the quietest…?” You answered unsure.

“My dad?” C00lkidd spoke up.

“…AŅY0NE BŪT H1M…” Noli grumbled, his eyes darting to C00lkidd.

Then…probably Shedletsky. He isn’t too bad..” You answered.

“…1 W1LL CH00SE 1F Y0U D0N’Ț PICK Æ ĞO0D ÄŅŚW3R.” Noli snapped, still giving off his cheerful demeanor.

“Why is he a bad answer?” You retorted.

“1x4 W0UĻD K1LĻ Y0U ĪF Ħ3 HE4RD TH4T.”

Oh right. You looked completely dumbfounded for a second before patting C00lkidd as a way for him to let go.

“You pick.” You finally answered.”

“Let’s do Elliot!” C00lkidd exclaimed.

“S3RE K1D. 3LL0IT.”

“Mind telling me my task?”

“T0 K2DN4P H1M ANÐ BŘÎNĞ ĦIM HËRĚ 0F C0ŪRSE!”

What. Did he just say. Oh lord you should have chosen someone.

You were not doing that.

Want me to write something that YOU can ask for? Just ask me on my page! Make sure to read the pinned rules!

[avaxbacot]

i’ve seen some parallel of luffy and law being compared to garp and sengoku, and yeah their interactions and dynamics were pretty similar. you can say sengoku treated rosinante like his son (he said it himself), and even though it doesn’t make him a “grandfather” for law (not that rosinante himself was a “father figure” for law, law referred corazon as his benefactor/savior only, not someone that he looked up as a father), there’s still a connection between law and sengoku through rosinante.

and now i’m thinking “wow sengoku was such a fraud”

i’ve seen garp getting his slander enough and he deserved it, i think sengoku deserved his lashing too because i wasn’t seeing enough, not helping that i’ve been seeing a lot of marine propaganda on twitter lately for some weird reasons (i can understand if people like some marine characters but the tweets sound like actual world government propaganda, i don’t know if it’s a satire or what but yeah some people are actually serious lol)

from the doffy-law-cora flashback, we learned that sengoku found rosinante as a kid and he adopted him, and later rosinante turned into becoming a marine. i’ve seen some takes about how rosinante should be a revolutionary instead, the reason i’ve seen is because he’s the opposite of his brother that obviously loved being a celestial dragon and wanted to gain all that glory back, but in the end of the day rosinante became a marine, an opposite of doflamingo who was a pirate. 

and it got me thinking…. i feel like there’s no scene where rosinante even said or thought that the celestial dragon was in the wrong side of history, he never acknowledged “yeah i was born a celestial dragon and they’re all monsters”, he only ever referred doffy as THE monster specifically, he even said that his parents were kind people (i mean he’s not wrong), and don’t get me wrong, rosinante was a good person (okay hot take here, he’s indeed a good person but he’s not the kindest either, he’s pretty fucked in the head too lol), but the only time he made a reference to his CD root was when he mentioned about the will of D being the enemies of gods, and that’s it—and to note law himself wasn’t aware that the “gods” were meant to be the CD, he just found out doflamingo and rosinante were one 13 years later.

so yeah, rosinante was a marine commander, sengoku claimed that rosinante had a strong sense in justice so then he became a marine, but i mean we didn’t even know the details of it, like in the end rosinante still worked under the government that served the CD, the group he was a part of but then abandoned him. rosinante sure was not like doflamingo and definitely grew up to have compassion to others, but he never explicitly said he was completely against the CD as a whole either, most of his anger towards doflamingo was personal, he was younger than doflamingo that he might understand less about what’s  going on in their childhood, he was just sure that he didn’t want to be like his brother and chose a different path. i can see that he still had a little bias, but i didn’t mean in it in a way that rosinante still thought it was okay to have slave when he grew up, he just believed becoming a marine was the right path because he grew up seeing sengoku as his role model, it never really came through him that the marine was still the institution that worked under the CD.

i am also 100% sure that sengoku was the one who actually convinced rosinante to take a path as a marine like he was because he believed it was the true “justice”, just like how garp did to his son and grandsons. remember that garp, sengoku, and tsuru were the legends of the marine, the three of them were long time friends who had been through so much together and you could see they tried to get their family into the marine: garp tried but he failed, tsuru was confirmed to have a granddaughter who was a marine (maybe her child was also a marine), and sengoku had rosinante as a marine. sengoku taught rosinante his views and as a kid rosinante believed the marine was the justice, why not? sengoku saved him and raised him like a son, it was a noble job, unlike his brother, he would also become one because sengoku made him believe it was the right choice.

then we learned that garp didn’t like the CD, he didn’t even want to be an admiral because if he did he would have to work directly under them. it got me thinking, since garp and sengoku (also tsuru) were friends and it seemed like they actually shared the same views and values, it meant that sengoku didn’t really like the CD either right? like who the hell in their right mind—especially with how prideful they were about the true justice—seeing a slavery in front of their eyes and thought “oh yeah it wasn’t a problem since the ones who did the slavery was the noble i worked for”? be for real. but sengoku actually took the admiral position and then became a fleet admiral, so he did work under the CD directly. we never knew how he actually felt about it, but if he also shared the same values and beliefs as garp, was he not a bit ashamed? he might have conflicted feelings about it too maybe?

ooppss, sorry forget that he never questioned the government wrongdoings lmao.

all those decades working as a marine and even reached the highest position, he never thought to change the system at all, just followed orders that were given, and the conclusion he got before retiring was “yeah i’m tired of this shit, i’m out”. but he….. didn’t completely out, did he? he was still working under the marine as what… some senior inspector general or something like that. if i were him i would be just completely out tbh especially on that age, like there’s no reason for me to still be connected with the marine, and don’t tell me someone as influential as him couldn’t escape the marine because the world government wouldn’t let him, if kuzan could do that i thought it wasn’t a problem, sengoku could definitely retire and be out of the marine for good. did he still think he might have a chance to change it ? he couldn’t even do that as FLEET ADMIRAL. or maybe he just liked still being involved with them? you are near the graveyard just fucking retire old man, go to some nice island in south blue, get a new hobby that is not war crime.

then i remember about rosinante again. rosinante had told sengoku about his mission to cure law’s disease and it made him to stop spying the donquixote family in awhile. we already know what happened next, with the ope ope no mi, doflamingo killed rosinante, and law ran away.

i believed the event of the ope ope no mi was the turning point for rosinante. when law asked him if he was a marine, he lied “I’M NOT A DAMN MARINE” for the reason that we learned later he didn’t want law to hate him. he was also aware that he would be an enemy of everyone if he stole the ope ope no mi, including the marine, the institution he worked for, the institution he once believed was justice. but in the end he chose to betray it for a sick annoying kid he didn’t even get along with, just because he cared about law, and of course rosinante grew to love law. i also believe, at this moment, rosinante finally realized how flawed and unfair the system was, after 6 months trying to find a cure for a sick child, seeing he got rejected and even insulted because the propaganda about the amber lead that was spread by the world government, he genuinely felt hurt for the kid, he’s ready to betray not only doflamingo but also the marine, because he knew both sides had failed law, and he didn’t hesitate to do the right thing after he realized he wasn’t actually on the “right” side as he always thought he was.

but even after that event, sengoku, who seemed to be really sad over his son’s death,  didn’t even do anything regarding that? if he actually cared and loved rosinante, wouldn’t he search for a kid that rosinante tried to save? he was an admiral at that point, he had the power and the connection to do that. but nope, he did nothing. and then i think maybe it was for the best because if sengoku actually found law and raised him, he would also make him a marine, especially with having that ope ope no mi power, there’s no way the world government would let go of law. but still, it just made sengoku look like he didn’t even try to do something as what he valued for.

and don’t get me started with how the hell he couldn’t do anything about doflamingo being a warlord. okay maybe he really couldn’t do anything since all those secrets doffy knew about mary geoise, but really? after all that he still kept working in that corrupt institution without even trying to change a bit of it? rosinante, his son, whom he raised, didn’t even hesitate to leave the marine and indirectly disobeying his dad’s wishes just to do the right thing, but why it was so hard for sengoku to do the same thing? maybe sengoku was right, rosinante indeed had the true justice in him but it wasn’t just about being a damn marine. 

i would give sengoku a credit that he didn’t capture law and let him free, he also told law about how he didn’t need to find a reason why rosinante loved him, i still think it was the most beautiful thing to say and law needed that. but beside that, he’s just as fraudulent as garp, maybe that’s why they are besties. i know i know, these characterization was actually not unrealistic, it is actually very realistic for garp and sengoku, a lot of people in authority thought they did something right or tried to change the system from the inside just to end up doing nothing, and it what makes them interesting as characters. but i will still call them a fraud because i can, this is what agenda piece for right?

[ninjago-toad-modern-au]

What all the ninja's normal jobs?

Ohh I love this part I had sooo much fun making this !

(Under the cut 'cause it's quite long)

Lloyd is an employee at Doomsday Comix (the comics book shop in s2 where he uses tomorrow's tea). It was actually quite hard to find a job since he's literally Lord Garmadon's son, the grandson of the equivalent of God and his oni/dragon traits are hard to hide, but Rufas (the comics shop owner) knows Lloyd since he's a kid, knows his background and his history so he knows Lloyd just wants a peaceful job. Plus it allows Lloyd to read all the comics before anyone else and usually, people hanging out at Doomsday Comix are chill about his oni traits, most of them think it's a cosplay or just dgaf.

Kai is a firefighter. I think it fits very well with his character bc 1) the fire part and 2) the rescue part. Of course, Kai has a natural affinity with fire. He will not be the kind of firefighter who will set off the fire but the kind who will enter the house to save everybody inside when his colleagues set off the fire. Plus, firefighters do not only work with fire, they're also called in emergency situations like an accident, etc, so critical situations, and we all know Kai is a natural protector and caretaker, so it would definitely fit (plus he definitely has a savior complex). And it's a job that requires very good physical aptitudes, and he's good at that.

Nya, to nobody's surprise, is a mechanic in a garage, her own garage. She usually fixes cars and bikes, but she can also fix literally whatever you bring her, from your tv remote to a whole ass truck. Whatever you bring, she fixes it, and she can even give it some ameliorations. She also has a driver's license for every type of vehicle. If she had the proper education, she could have been a brilliant engineer, but she couldn't study very long so she works on her things by herself, with the help of Jay and Pixal.

Jay doesn't really care about his job. He can do whatever doesn't need too much investment and effort and leaves him the time to live outside. After the Merge, he worked a moment in administrative services, but it took too much time, then he worked in a theater, and another job, etc. Right now he works at Lobbo's Totally Rad Arcade. He mainly does maintenance work, even if sometimes he's given the administrative work 'cause he's good at it and he can use his powers whenever he needs too and people won't question it. It's mainly a chill job and sometimes he can play videogames too. Plus, it gives him the time to have life, to work with Nya and to be a ninja.

Cole is a teacher in kindergarten. I mean, do I have to explain ? He's so good with kids, ofc he would work with them. He's every kid's favorite teacher because he's so nice and his presence is reassuring (he's very impressive at first sight with his build, but also very nice, kids feel safe with him). The downside is the kid's parents, sometimes they can be a little too much, but usually he understands, being a father of 3. He has a lot of fun in his job and on the other side his life is stable, so Cole is fine 👍 (unlike some)

Zane is a vet. He works in a zoo, especially with birds. I think it fits. He always understood animals better than humans (autism icon), and he's literally built to protect others. Nevertheless, since the Merge, his job does not limit to the zoo, he learned to heal dragons and other new creatures too. Btw, he cooks the animal's meal himself and the animals have never been so healthy. (In parallel, Zane also has Echo's custody)

Pixal is a cop, but not any cop. She understands why there are rules, but she won't follow them if she thinks they're unfair. She's the kind of cop in shows who gets their license taken away at some point because they can't follow orders. But unlike them, Pixal always does it for a good reason and she always makes sure nobody is hurt in the process. She also has the highest solved cases of the whole Ninjago City police, and she's also Samurai X, which is a semi-public identity (it's not explicitly said she's Samurai X but it's not hidden at all), one of the two inheritors of Borg Enterprises, along with her twin brother Cryptor and she sometimes helps Jay and Nya on their projects.

Hope this helps and thank you for the ask !