#why would they do that to poor franky

[nooripoori]

oh my gosh…

[kitten4sannie]

pairing: ex! san x fem! reader feat. wingman seonghwa and instigator mingi

genres: omg actual plot ??, exes to lovers, romance, angst with a happy ending, fluff, an attempt at humor, smut finale

summary: during a winter getaway with your friends, you end up having to come face to face with choi san, the man who broke your heart in two just last christmas.

w.c: 8.2k

tags: features the unholy trinity: misunderstandings/miscommunication/messiness, drama (i bring drama-ma-ma-ma~), alcohol use, mutual jealousy, mutual pining, lots of banter, third parties, poor sannie and reader are just two big dummies with even bigger hearts </3,, like 20 flashbacks (okay it’s like 2 but i like being dramatic sue me), too many winter analogies, insecurities, confessions, l bombs, tears, all that jazz

warnings: soft dom! san (literally the softest dom to ever exist IM SICK), subby! reader, pussydrunk san and cockdrunk reader (like these mfs are so desperate for each other it’s actually disgusting), dirty talk, pet names, praise, possessiveness, kissing, a lot of spit (leave me alone!!!), tit play, grinding, body worship, oral (receiving), passionate condomless lovemaking by the fire baybeeeee, breeding kink, bulge kink, creampies

a/n: so i listen to last christmas religiously every year and while i was jamming my hamster brain was like “WRITE WRITE WRITE” so i diddd and yeahh this happened??? lmao but fr this was the most fun i’ve ever had writing since feb filth fest…. like wtf. i gotta write plot forward fics more often this shit’s like a drug man. anyways i hope you enjoy my dear lovelies <33

*shoutout to my sweetheart bunbun @cottoncandy-girl for beta reading and hyping this fic up during the writing process. i would’ve second guessed myself twice as much if not for you. you’re a lifesaver!! mwah mwah ~~

song rec for the general vibe: last christmas by wham obv <3, fool by frankie cosmos, snowfall (slowed and reverb) by oneheart, know me by gemini, easily by bruno major, flowers and chocolate by eyedress

angst: pleaser by the wallows, do me right by gemini, homesick by wave to earth, cherie by hojean

smut: mice city by hotel ugly, between your thighs by jimmy brown, lock me in by hojean, touch by keshi, your love by brb

Masterlist

“Hey, Y/N,” your best friend began, walking around the side of your beat-up car to the trunk where you were busy shoving various suitcases and bags into the small space and trying to make them fit. “So, don’t get mad, but–”

With a case of wine bottles in hand, you slowly set it down on the lip of the trunk, side-eyeing your friend with the intensity of a thousand suns. It was so powerful, it’d probably melt the snow that had been falling around your feet for the past thirty minutes. “Why would I be mad? What’s going on?”

“Just breathe for me, okay?” she sighed, bringing a hand up to play with a few strands of her hair. “So, you know how Seonghwa’s coming up to the cabin with us?”

“Um, yeah…? I don’t care about you bringing your boyfriend with us, you know. Just let me know if you’re gonna fuck so I can put my headphones on,” you replied, lifting the case up and pushing it inside the empty space of the trunk, satisfied that your long game of tetris was finally complete.

She quickly waved her hands, shaking her head. “No, that’s not…” she started, taking in a deep inhale, before letting it out, a wave of condensation hitting the cold air between the two of you. “He invited…someone. Someone you know.”

You bent down into the trunk to move a few items around, making sure they wouldn’t collapse on each other. “Okay? I only know you and a few other people, bestie. Who could it possibly be–”

“It’s San,” she finally blurted out, her face scrunching up in anticipation of your reaction.

Once your ex was spoken into existence again, a flood of memories from the previous year bombarded your defenseless brain and heart, causing you to stand up so quickly, you hit your head on the edge of the trunk lid.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” your friend gasped, already at your side, helping you stand up straight and placing her hand on the one you had held against the back of your head.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I think that just knocked all the bad memories out of my brain. Ready to head out?” you chimed, giving her a thumbs up with your keys in hand, stumbling a bit in place, your vision fading out slightly.

Sighing, your friend reached for the keys. “Yeah, I’m driving.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend pulled her keys out of the ignition once she parked in a free space near the cabin you’d both be staying at, turning her head to observe the way you were playing with the drawstrings of your joggers with a pout on your sullen face. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You know, we’re visiting everyone else later, so you can always stay at their cabin, if you’d like. It’s much bigger and has wifi, and definitely won’t have S–”

“I’m not a little bitch,” you suddenly whined, your eyebrows furrowed, your pout growing. “I can handle being in the same cabin with my dumbass ex, okay? I don’t even care that he’s here, actually.”

She nodded her head knowingly, giving you a gentle smile. “Just let me know if you’re uncomfortable, please. And if he starts up with one of his…unique personalities, tell me or Seonghwa, alright? He knows how to handle him.”

“I can handle him myself. There’s plenty of snow for me to toss him into, or some flames if our cabin has a fireplace,” you muttered, too stubborn to admit that your heart would most likely explode as soon as you had the displeasure of witnessing his disgustingly handsome face and charming dimpled smile.

Your friend shook her head slightly, unable to keep from smiling in your direction. “There is a fireplace, yeah.”

You sighed contentedly, admiring the expanse of dense snow, the sundry of oversized pine trees, the far away mountains covered in white, and the cluster of cozy-looking cabins beyond the frosted windshield. “Finally, some good news.”

Once you both got to the front steps of the cabin you’d be staying at, your arms full of the items that you could bring from the car, the front door swung open, almost giving you a heart attack on the spot.

“Baby, you’re here!” Seonghwa gasped, pulling your friend into his arms when she set her stuff down on the porch and spinning her around in a small circle, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration.

Once Seonghwa acknowledged your presence with a warm greeting, you stood off to the side while your friend and Seonghwa kissed and giggled with each other, your arms beginning to feel like jelly, wishing someone would just stamp the words “third wheel” on your forehead already.

“That looks heavy,” you heard someone say in a deeply familiar baritone voice, causing you to whip your head towards the origin, your wide eyes meeting San’s concerned coffee brown ones. “Do you want me to carry it in for you?”

“San,” you automatically blurted out, alarm bells going off, the mini versions of you running around in panic inside your head, your fingers clasping tighter around your things.

“Y/N,” he parroted back in the same cadence, already moving closer to you, his arms sliding underneath your belongings and holding them up with ease, his navy sweater doing nothing to conceal the solid mass of his arm muscles. “Is it like, misogynistic for me to carry your things?”

You opened and closed your hands, trying your get rid of the pins and needles. “No, I’d say it’s progressive since it’s a big dumb caveman carrying my things, so women: 1, patriarchy: 0.”

San offered you a dimpled smile, his wide shoulders scrunching up slightly, as a hearty laugh emanated from his throat. “Caveman, I like that. Should I go find a cave to explore?” He tilted his head, his eyes flitting between yours and your pleasing body line. “Maybe try to start a fire?”

Your heart leapt into your throat, forcing you to gulp it down. You sneered, already beginning to push past him to enter the cabin, only turning your head back to tell him, “Start a fire and jump inside, caveman.”

San smiled at you, seeing right past your act, watching you walk away, before turning his head to look at the two lovebirds still hugging on each other. “See that? She already gave me a pet name.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Fuck,” you groaned, dropping yourself down onto the surprisingly comfy mattress in the cozy guest room you were occupying, finally done with putting your clothes and toiletries away in their respective places, for the most part, also noticing that the violent hammering inside your chest had subsided.

And then your door opened.

“Yo, this cabin is pretty sick, right? It’s got a nice, cabin-ey feeling to it,” San announced, walking into your room and looking around like he owned the place. Typical San behavior. Whistling casually, he eventually headed over to your side of the bed, picking up a few skincare products that were sitting on your bedside table to study them. “Does this retinol shit really work?”

“Excuse me, but are you lost? This is my room,” you combated, not bothering to get up from the bed you were currently sinking into, simply turning on your back and lifting your head up slightly to glare at him.

“Bro.” San clutched his chest like you had just emptied a clip right in between his tits, his eyebrows turning upwards, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “Why do you act like we haven’t been inside each other?” He climbed onto the bed, looking down at you past his black bangs. “Matter of fact, I know you better than your little friend downstairs.”

You stared up at him, cursing yourself for wanting nothing more than to grab him by his stupid face and kiss him — but you wouldn’t, not after what he did. “You’re so gross.”

“Like in a sexy way, right?” he quipped, chuckling when you just shook your head. San slowly laid himself down beside you, looking up at the ceiling, reaching up behind his head and cupping the back of it to get more comfortable. “You didn’t argue against the fact that I know you better than your own self proclaimed ‘bestie’, you know.”

You let out a small sigh, resting your hands down at your sides, gripping the quilted blanket underneath you, your heart pounding inside your chest just like it did last Christmas. Did you ever fall out of love with him? Was that why your heart felt so stuck? Frozen in place? Like it was waiting for San to make it beat again? “Well, for once, you’re not wrong. I…let you in back then, obviously, so yeah, you know me better than she does. You know me better than anyone.”

San began to reach for your hand, hesitating for a second, not even realizing his walls were just as high. If only he could gather the courage to bring them down. “Y/N…”

You turned to look at San just as he turned his whole body towards yours, giving you one of his infamous gazes, his eyes closed ever so slightly, his lips parted, drawing in a breath. He lowered his hand, touching the top of yours, rubbing it with his thumb. “You know what else I know?”

Why did he have to do this to you? Just what the fuck was his problem?

“What, San?” you questioned underneath your breath, seconds away from losing it completely.

His eyes lost their playful twinkle, instead displaying sorrow. “Y/N, I��”

Seonghwa popped his head into the room. “Y/N, have you seen– Oh,” he deadpanned, displaying an oddly delighted smile for a split second, before his lips evened out. “We’re heading to the hang out now. It’s gonna snow pretty hard in a bit so it’s now or never.”

You both sat up from the bed, your cheeks burning like you had just been caught, well, inside of each other.

Seonghwa was about to say something when your friend walked up behind him and pulled him into whisper something, causing him to whisper back, the both of them nodding at each other.

You and San exchanged glances, before all four of you looked at one another. “Are you hiding things from me, pookie?” you playfully asked your friend, pouting.

“No, I’d never hide anything from you, pookie wookie baby bear!” she cried dramatically, running into the room and tackling you back down onto the bed.

San looked to Seonghwa, making grabby hands at him. “Where’s my hug?”

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, pointing at San’s thin sweater as it rose past his hips. “You better put on some more layers before we go, pookie bear. It’s cold as balls outside.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Instead of hanging out inside your friend’s friends’ cabin where the party was at, you loitered outside in the snow, building yourself a snowman. Maybe he’d stay by your side longer than the last one.

“Hey, what are you doing out here by yourself, ba–” San started, standing with his arm just barely pressing into yours, immediately clearing his throat, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. “Y/N, I mean, heh, sorry I’ve had a few drinks.”

You almost broke the empty beer bottle you were using as the snowman’s nose inside your hands from hearing San almost address you as baby, turning your head to look at the adorably goofy smile he had on his stupidly cute face. You bit your lip, wishing he would just say it, the layers of ice around your heart starting to crack. “I figured. Well, how come you’re out here with me, instead of shotgunning a beer or something with your caveman friends?”

Amused, San nodded his head, impressed by your ability to keep up with your shtick. “They’re too busy hanging around the fireplace, you know. The fire’s so pretty, they got distracted.” He grinned at you, grinning harder when you began to smile back at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sound of the giggle that escaped your lips. “I missed your giggle…missed you…” he murmured absentmindedly, pretending to stay busy by helping you round out the head of the snowman, while you stuck a rock into it where one of the eyes would be.

You dropped the other rock, standing still, feeling your mouth go dry. You racked your brain over his words, wanting to ask him why he didn’t stay with you in the first place if he was just going to miss you so much. You missed him too. You wanted him to know.

By the time you had made up your mind, San had picked up the rock and stuck it into the snow, completing the snowman’s face. “There we go. Mr. Snowman’s looking real nice.” He waited for a second, before turning to look at you with a concerned pout. “He’s not cuter than me, right?” When you didn’t respond, he blinked, leaning in. “Y/N?”

Instead of responding, you found yourself wrapping your arms around San’s neck, pulling him into a hug. You didn’t even say anything — you just focused on feeling his warm body against yours, recalling what it felt like to be his. His baby. If only he would just say it.

“Baby…” he whispered just under his breath, so carefully, like he risked the chance of causing an avalanche if he spoke any louder, gently rubbing your back in circles, automatically resting his head on the top of yours like he did last year. “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know, I just–” you murmured into his chest, your own about to collapse in on itself from hearing what he said, hugging onto him a little tighter than before, wishing things were different. “I…I think I’m drunk…”

“Oh…” San replied, swallowing harshly, only pulling away once you started to. He tucked a bit of hair behind your ear, giving you a concerned look. “You should come back inside and drink some water, then. Seonghwa was right to tell me to check up on you.”

Your face fell slightly, the bottle that was stuck inside the snowman drooping inside the melting snow as if it was mirroring your disappointment. “You…only came out here because Seonghwa told you to?”

“Well, I mean, he was the one that noticed you were gone, so he just thought I should make sure you were okay, yeah…” San explained, rubbing his arm.

You nodded your head, a soft smile returning to your face, not wanting San to see the hurt you felt, not yet, anyway. You were still able to hide it as of late. “That’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, Hwa’s a sweetie,” San mused, noticing the sad snowman, reaching out to fix the position of the beer bottle. “Too bad he’s taken, otherwise I’d be wifing him up and giving him the exclusive Choi San Caveman Experience. There’s a trademark on that, by the way.”He gave you another goofy smile, his smile growing when you offered him a few small giggles.

“I think you need water more than I do,” you mentioned, gently punching his arm.

San chuckled, his smile softening, wanting to say so much more than just, “You might be right.”

After a few seconds of too much silence, and too much yearning for an important conversation to take place, you instead pointed to the lively cabin behind you. “You should go get some. I’ll be back inside soon.”

“Okay, sounds good.” He put his hands back into his pockets, lingering there for a moment, before heading back inside.

You stood there for a while, watching the makeshift nose of the snowman begin to droop again, before you reeled your foot back and kicked into the base of the snowman, watching it topple over and fall apart.

❆ ❆ ❆

You lingered near the spiked punch bowl that sat inside the corner of the cabin’s empty kitchen, drinking down a solo cup’s worth of the fruity beverage and tossing the cup into the sink, not noticing another person’s presence until you turned to the side and bumped your nose into their broad chest. “Oh, shit– I’m sorry,” you apologized, backing up a bit to see that you had ran into no one other than Song Mingi, the man you had trauma dumped and cried to for an hour before having mindless rebound sex with after San dumped you. “Min, hey. Long time, no see.”

“Y/N. It’s nice to see you again. Very nice,” Mingi mused, taking a long sip of his drink, just studying you with his amused, half-closed eyes, pointing upwards with his finger. “What are the odds of this?”

“Hm?” Your eyes followed where he was pointing until your gaze settled on the mistletoe that hung from the doorway above the two of you, a memory of the past immediately lighting up the insides of your brain like the flash of a camera, the snapshot still fresh in your subconscious as though it had never faded in the first place, much like your feelings for San — but who were you to admit that to yourself?

“Jesus, what is with people and mistletoe?” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your itchy christmas sweater, ready to shield your eyes so you didn’t have to look at the two people vigorously making out underneath the red berries that were hung from the ceiling of the crowded cabin.

San hovered near you, running a hand through his hair, his eyes studying your scrunched up, flushed face, wondering how you could be so cute. “The origin of mistletoe is actually really romantic, y’know.” Once you met his gaze, his lips curled into a smile, his dimples making an appearance.

You gripped onto your sweater sleeve, smiling softly back at him, your annoyance fading. “Tell me about it then, Mr. Historian.”

San’s eyes sparkled at your reaction, his shoulder gently pressing into yours as he brought his drink up to his mouth. “Mistletoe has always been able to survive in the harshest of winters. Even when everything’s frozen…” When he lowered his hand, the side of his pinky touched yours, sending warmth into the both of your bodies. “….it still finds a way to bloom.”

You took in a quick breath, having to look down at your feet before your heart burst out of your chest as an unintentional ode to Alien and ruined the annual christmas party. “I didn’t peg you as a hopeless romantic, San.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.” San hummed, gently taking your chin in his grasp and pressing a kiss to your lips, giggling delightedly as you buried your scorching face into his chest, his heart pounding, wanting nothing more than to show you just how hopelessly in love he was with you, but too afraid to grant you access to the very intense, very full extent of it, let alone himself.

He was full of surprises, so full of them that he was able to show such a meaningful display of love to you and still break up with you on the very same night, with little to no explanation, just a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ Choi San was truly an enigma — one you cursed yourself for still wanting to grasp, to hold, to forgive.

You looked down at Mingi’s drink only for him to motion for you to take it, immediately downing the punch until you were sucking on an ice cube and crunching it between your teeth, satisfied with the buzz coursing through your body, bitterness still seeping its way in your veins. You knew that what you were about to do wouldn’t make you feel any better, but you did it anyway, grabbing Mingi by the collar of his ugly Christmas sweater and smashing your lips against his. What you didn’t know, however, was that San was standing at the end of the hallway, with his hand in his coat pocket, there to witness how Mingi pressed you into the wall.

❆ ❆ ❆

Your friend slowly inched her way towards you from across the brightly lit, festively decorated living room full of your boisterous acquaintances having a battle with each other to determine who could be the loudest, drunkest individual in the room. Currently, it was San, unsurprisingly, who had a beer in one hand while hugging onto the obscenely large Christmas tree in the middle of the room. You couldn’t tell exactly what song he was singing, but you were pretty sure it was a romantic, mostly cheesy pop ballad from the 80s.

“Having fun?” your friend gauged softly, sitting down on the sofa in the corner beside you, clinking her glass beer bottle against yours.

You shrugged, taking a few sips of the chilled beer, crossing one leg over the other. “I made out with Mingi earlier, so that was cool, I guess.”

“You what?” she gasped, pressing closer to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you. “Y/N, oh my god, that’s so —” Her gossipy tone turned into one of concern. “But what about San?”

“What about San?” you grumbled, internally annoyed that all you could think about was San when Mingi’s tongue was down your throat. “He probably already did the same thing, considering how torched he is.”

She sighed, sinking into the couch, very well aware of how San truly felt about you, last Christmas, and how much he wanted to turn things around. Of course she would know. She had to hear it from Seonghwa, who in turn heard it from San off and on for the entire year, but she wasn’t about to speak for him. He would have to do that himself.

“Are you going to play truth, dare, or drink with us?” Mingi suddenly asked you, leaning his hip against the side of the couch, causing you and your friend to look up at him.

“Ehh.” You shrugged your shoulders at him.

He put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it, feeling someone’s eyes burning holes into the back of his head, figuring San was watching the both of you from the tree, who indeed was, his hands tightening around his beer and the scratchy pine needles he was holding onto. “It’ll be more fun if you join in, Y/N. How bout it?”

You sucked on your teeth for a second, your eyes moving past Mingi to gaze at San across the room, who was now talking to a girl who had came up to him, your stomach sinking at the clear appearance of his dimples. Stupid caveman.

You stood up, fingers squeezing around your poor beer bottle. “Fuck it, I’m in.”

“Good, good,” Mingi replied, smiling absentmindedly, bringing his own drink up to his lips, as if he wasn’t aware of the disaster he was about to bring into fruition — and all for the chance that he could recreate the events of last year’s Christmas party. It led to him having a pretty, teary-eyed girl in his bed to take care of, after all.

❆ ❆ ❆

“Yo, I can’t believe — he actually — I can’t breathe,” someone gasped out in between soundless laughs, falling back into their chair along with their other friends, pointing at San as he trudged back into the cabin past the sliding door, clad in only a form-fitting pair of Christmas themed boxers, wiping some snow off of his shoulders, before immediately going for his mixed drink and tossing it back victoriously, one hand on his hip.

“You bitches really thought I wouldn’t do it,” San chuckled self-righteously, taking another sip, before letting out a low ‘aaah’. “Someone owes me 20 bucks. Which one of you was it?” He held up an accusative finger to one of the girls nearby, who giggled and held her hands up defensively. “It was you, wasn’t it? Give it up!”

The rest of the group laughed in response, drunkenly leaning into each other, gleeful smiles plastered on their flushed faces.

“San’s pretty lively tonight,” Seonghwa said near you, nudging you gently with his elbow. “It’s almost kind of cute, huh?” Poor man was out of the loop, but he was trying, bless his heart.

“Cute?” you muttered, raising an eyebrow at him. “He’s butt-ass naked at a Christmas party. He’s a grown man wearing boxers with candy canes on it. What on earth is cute about that?”

Seonghwa pursed his lips, side-eyeing you. “I don’t know, I just thought you’d agree with the way you’ve been staring at him all night.“

You almost choked on your spit, bringing a hand up to your hair to smooth it out. “Well, it’s hard to keep my eyes off of him when he’s being an annoying ass pick-me like that.”

“But you picked…him.”

“I did. Ages ago, Seonghwa,” you corrected him, watching San out of the corner of your eye, unable to believe that he was letting the girl slip a twenty directly into the waistline of his boxers. As soon as you looked down, San’s eyes were on you, his lips turning into a frown, immediately pushing the girl’s hand away when it lingered a bit too long, his eyes filled with bitter determination. “You know what he did to me. He spent all that time getting my hopes up all year long, only to hit me with the ‘i’m bad with commitment’ card before he left the party last year. That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

Seonghwa sighed in defeat, sinking back into his seat, biting at his lip. “I get what you’re saying, Y/N, I really do. It was unbelievably shitty for him to do that to you, but San…I think he really regrets it. All he talks about is you, Y/N.” Seonghwa turned to face you, gently touching your wrist. “He’s always loved you. He just doesn’t know how to verbalize it.”

You started biting at your lip too, simply listening to your friend’s words, wondering if there was any truth to them. It’s not like you were hearing them from San himself. That would be a different story — though you didn’t know if he was even capable of that kind of vulnerability. “I’d like to believe that, Hwa. I just…”

“Oh my god! With tongue? My virgin eyes!” someone gasped loudly at something, covering their eyes, their friends laughing at his dramatic performance.

“At least someone’s getting some,” Mingi chuckled, while eyeing you, currently holding up the same piece of mistletoe you had encountered together earlier, only this time someone else was under it. Someone that made you wish you had never even came up to the cabin in the first place.

“There’s no way…” you whispered to yourself, unable to take your eyes off of San, who was holding that same girl against him, his hands clutching her hips, his tongue halfway into her mouth by the time you got up from the couch and grabbed a water cup from the coffee table, determined to keep your tears inside your body before you stormed out, but you had to answer to your demons first.

“Y/N, he’s just drunk! He’s trying to make you jealous, okay? He’s being an idiot! Y/N, listen–” Seonghwa tried fruitlessly to reason with you, reaching for your wrist, only for it to slip out of his grasp as you made your way up to San and the unsuspecting woman.

Your bitter, frozen heart quelled you to toss the water at San, watching it splash onto the side of his reddened face, the shock of it sobering him up almost instantaneously, causing him to pull away from the woman and look at you, the weight of his faulty decisions hitting him square into the chest when he saw the tears in your eyes. “Y/N…I…I didn’t mean….I just…” Tears began to form inside his own eyes. “I just wanted you to see me.”

“I see you, San,” you whispered, your voice cracking underneath the weight of your emotional turmoil. “I’ve seen enough, actually.”

San froze in place, while what felt like cement sink to the bottom of his stomach, unable to get himself to stop you from grabbing a freshly opened bottle of booze from someone’s hands and walking away from him.

Your friend tried in vain to reason with you, getting hit with a death glare, before you stormed out. She turned to Seonghwa, whispering “Do something,” encouraging him to run over to San, grabbing him by the shoulders and temporarily keeping him upright.

“San, listen to me.”

San sniffled, his nose sporting a pink hue, as hot tears began to drip down his clammy face, sinking down to his knees, watching as Seonghwa sank down with him. “Seonghwa, I fucked up. I just wanted her to want me. I wanted her to get jealous and take what’s hers. I didn’t know how– a-and her, and Mingi– I just thought maybe if I–”

Seonghwa shook San a bit, his nostrils flaring, his fingers squeezing into his friend’s trembling shoulders. “Get a grip and listen to me!” As soon as San took in a shaky breath and let it out, Seonghwa cleared his throat. “You’re going to put some fucking clothes on, nut up, and go after her. It’s now or never.”

San wiped his eyes, trying to control his breathing. “B-but what do I say, Seonghwa? How can I possibly–”

Seonghwa suddenly pulled him into a hug, clutching the back of his head, feeling San slowly begin to relax against him. “You’re going be honest with her, San. Tell her what you’ve always wanted her to know. The world isn’t going to end after you do. She’ll still be there, and you’ll be safe.”

San clutched Seonghwa’s back, blinking away a few remaining tears. “You promise?”

Seonghwa pulled away, curling his pinky finger around his best friend’s, giving him a firm nod. “Promise.” Seeing the trust inside San’s sparkling eyes, Seonghwa reached up to ruffle his hair, smiling softly. “Oh, and give her that Christmas present you’ve been waiting for her to open.”

A small smile slowly apread across his splotchy face, before he gave Seonghwa a stern nod back, reaching his hand inside the pocket of his coat to feel what had been sitting inside and collecting dust for the entire year. It was time. Things weren’t going to end up like last Christmas. It would be different this time. He would make sure of it.

❆ ❆ ❆

With each passing minute, you sank a little further into the abyss of your memories, as well as the freshly fallen layers of snow that surrounded you, splashes of alcohol melting into it whenever you took a lazy swig and dropped the bottle back down at your side. “You dummy…” you mumbled to yourself, sniffling, your warm tears and body doing its best to combat the chilly environment around you.

Once you reached a street lamp, the warm light glowing onto your damp clothes, the memories of last year, that had once been frozen over suddenly flooded into your mind so quickly, you had to lower yourself onto the gravel beneath you, resting your back against the metal of the large buzzing lamp. “Shit…” You brought your wrist to your eyes, smearing a fresh wave of tears into your slightly damp hair, realizing you had been there before, the deja vu hitting you harder than the icy night wind hit your flushed face.

“San, what’s wrong?” You stood next to your boyfriend, watching him simply stare at the Christmas tree in front of him, his hands in his coat pockets.

San clutched onto the present he had spent weeks waiting to be custom-made and even longer just staring at it inside his apartment, wondering if it was enough, if he was enough, for someone like you.

San slowly shook his head, taking his hand out of his pocket to gently grab your wrist, leaning in to ask, “Can we talk?”

“No, we’re not doing this right now,” you told yourself out loud, smacking the side of your head and shaking it back and forth to hopefully send the memory packing, but it persisted, much like the snowfall around you.

“I don’t understand, San, we were fine! We’re okay. Why are you doing this?” you cried, trying and failing to keep San from leaving the cabin, unable to catch the corner of his coat sleeve until you were both under a street lamp, the light blinking occasionally.

San slowly turned around to face you for a moment, shaking his head, keeping his tears at bay. He didn’t know what he was thinking. How would he be enough for someone like you? Poor San simply couldn’t see the beauty he saw in you in his own self. “I just can’t, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I really am.”

“Can’t what? Can you just talk to me, San? I want to understand, San, please, talk to me,” you begged him, your heart sinking further with each step you took towards him as he continued to walk away. You stopped eventually, in the front of his car, your breath caught in your throat. “So, that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Just like that?”

San stroked his hair with a shaky hand in an unconscious act of self-soathing, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, looking off to the side, before gripping the door handle of his car, as well as the felt box inside his pocket with his other hand, only seeing a blurry version of you by the time he looked back up. How could he explain how afraid he was of you and the love you offered him? How his many walls, like ice, were impenetrable, until you melted them away? It frightened him, so much so that all he could say was, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” before he got into the car and shut the door.

“You…dummy…” you repeated, this time in a whisper, taking another swig from the bottle and choking down the strong liquor, about to force yourself to down it when you heard what sounded like a set of boots quickly shuffling through the snow.

“Y/N,” San gasped, almost completely out of breath from running through the rough winter terrain, bending forward slightly with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, sending puffs of condensation into the air around you. “I have to – tell you something–”

“Oh, now you have something to say? After all this time? That’s rich,” you scoffed, wobbling a bit as you stood up, trying to put up a front like you had done earlier, though your facade had since melted away, your quivering lips and red, teary eyes on full display. “…Go on, San…”

San finally caught his breath, his heart still hammering away inside his chest, reaching up to his head to stroke his somewhat damp raven hair, trying to swallow the growing lump inside his throat. “Y/N, I…I should’ve said this a long time ago, instead of just leaving you the way I did…”

The longer you stared at him, the longer he felt his walls crumbling around him, figuring that he had no choice but to tell you what had always been lingering on his tongue, buzzing in his heart and mind, and swimming inside his thoughts each night when he was alone. He realized it was worth the risk of having to return to a cold, silent heart, a bitter soul, and even higher walls that he could box himself inside of. To him, you were worth anything.

Your anger slowly subsided at the sight of his serious gaze, his warm coffee-brown eyes studying you like nothing else existed besides you. In fact, nothing did, inside his world, except for you. “San…” you murmured, reaching out to touch his hand, but he already beat you to it, interlacing your cold fingers together.

“I love you, Y/N,” he admitted in the softest, most convicting voice you’ve ever heard from him, slowly pulling out the box he kept inside his coat, opening it to reveal a small gold ring with a jewel shaped like mistletoe, gently sliding it onto your finger when you held your hand out. “I love you so much, baby. So much it terrifies me.”

“Oh, San…” you sighed, breathless, bringing your hand to your chest from being so overwhelmed with emotion. After a moment, you reached for his hand, squeezing it, moving closer to him, his confession and gift warming you up more than a raging, crackling fire ever could. “San–”

“If I had just told you how I felt back then, I wouldn’t have hurt you the way I did.” He squeezed your hand back, his chapped, lower lip quivering. “I wish I could take it all back. It’s all I’ve been able to think about– How I wish I could just turn back time and–”

You silenced San’s words with a gentle kiss, letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms following suit, closing around your waist. You broke the kiss after a moment to whisper, “I love you too, San. Always have.” You caressed his face, making sure he felt the love pouring out of your words when you promised, “Always will.”

San let out a trapped breath of air, hugging you against him, protectively clutching the back of your head, unable to stop everything he had held inside from spilling out of him all at once.

You simply held him in your arms and stroked the back of his head, not noticing when the light above you had flickered once and went out for a split second, only to shine brighter than it did before, the light warming the exposed skin of your flushed cheeks.

❆ ❆ ❆

San sat on his knees beside the crackling fire, adjusting a piece of firewood, watching the flame catch onto it and travel along the cedar, enjoying the warmth on his skin, eventually turning his head back to admire the sight of you bundled up on the couch with a plush blanket on your lap, your hands clasped around a cup of tea, your eyes admiring your twinkling ring, before you noticed his loving gaze.

“Sannie, come here, love,” you spoke softly, taking one finger off of the cup to beckon him to you, sliding the blanket off and putting the cup down after one more sip.

“Coming, baby.” Eyes sparkling, San inched his way over to you, still on his knees, fitting himself in between yours so that he could wrap his arms around your middle, resting his head against your chest. “Mm, you’re so warm.”

You ran your fingers through his soft, still slightly damp hair, waiting till he looked up at you to caress his cheek, a small sigh leaving your lips. “I’m sorry for what I did to you earlier. I really shouldn’t have reacted like that. It was hypocritical of me.” You ran your fingers gently along his jaw, noticing the way he leaned into your touch.

“No, baby, I’m sorry,” he replied, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pouting. “I did…that to you in front of everyone…It was really shitty…I just couldn’t think straight after I saw you with Mingi.”

Your face fell, your fingers sliding back into San’s hair to play with it. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t…I want you to know that there was no meaning behind it, love. I was just bitter. And drunk.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s all forgiven, I promise you.” San reassured softly, responding well to your light touches, nuzzling your hand when it came back to his cheek, his fingers sliding underneath your sweater to squeeze into your sides, sending a light shiver up your spine. “But, you know what, baby?”

“What, Sannie?” Your body temperature started to increase as San brought himself up higher so that you were face to face, body to body, his palms settling onto your bare back.

“There’s meaning behind this,” he whispered, bringing his hands up to cup your face, before gently pressing his lips onto yours. You shared a few firm, passionate kisses, your lips moving against one another’s, hearing San whisper something else that sent a wave straight into your core. “Can you feel it, baby? My love?”

“Yeah, show me more, Sannie,” you murmured against his lips, his mouth slotting back onto yours, almost making you forget to breathe when his tongue began to explore the inside of your mouth.

San sucked lightly on your tongue, before moving down to kiss on your neck, his hands moving further up to unclasp your bra from underneath your sweater. “Can I please touch you, baby?” he asked with a desperation that made his deep voice go up an octave higher.

“Yes, please, touch me,” you responded with just as much desperation, arching your back into his touch when he slipped his hands up the front of your sweater, moving your tits in slow, gentle circles, his lips and teeth attacking your neck and collarbone.

“You feel so good in my hands, baby, fuck, I missed you so much,” San exhaled into your neck, squeezing the roundness of your tits in between his fingers, squishing them together, and lifting them up, only to drop them back down into his palms, groaning all the while. He pulled back slightly, rolling the hem of your sweater up a bit, his hooded, dilated eyes focused solely on yours. “Can I take this off?”

A quick nod was all it took for him to lift your sweater up over your head, your bra falling to the floor. Not wanting you to be alone, he reached behind his head and pulled his own sweater off, his sculpted, muscular upper body bathed in glowing, orange light from the fire blazing away behind him. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” he sighed, admiring your body like he did the very first time he saw you bare in front of him.

“So are you,” you replied, slowly running your hands up along his abdomen and back down, his muscles flexing slightly underneath your touch, his eyes following your fingers as they unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his cute custom briefs. “My Sannie, so precious.”

San blushed, his goofy smile slowly disappearing as he unbuttoned your pants, biting hard into his bottom lip once he got them off of you. “Baby…” Unable to just sit there and admire you, he reached forward to cup your tits, running his thumbs back and forth over your stiff nipples, lust clearly running rampant in his head and body by the way he was looking at you with such clear hunger in his eyes, his cock hard and stiff against your core. “Can I taste you?”

“Baby, you don’t have to ask, okay? You can have me, in any way–” you started breathily, feeling San’s cock beginning to pulse against you. “–Every way, Sannie. Please, take care of me.”

San suddenly clutched your hips, slowly grinding his clothed cock into your heat, while his mouth closed around one of your nipples to suck on it, his hooded eyes looking up into yours, his tongue darting out to lap at your tit.

“Feels so good, your mouth on me,” you breathed out, running your fingers through his hair, clutching it tight when he swapped your tit for the other, his jaw lowering so that he could fit more of your squishy globe into his mouth, sucking on it desperately. “Sannie…please…”

Knowing what you wanted, San pulled back to spit onto your tits, watching it drip down, before leaning back in to lick it up, his tongue cascading up and down your now slick skin, still guiding your hips against him, your legs already hooked around his slim waist. Your whiny moans were like music to his ears, taking a break from sucking and licking you to say, “You like it messy, don’t you, baby girl? Makes you so wet for me, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh, now come here,” you could barely get out, before you grabbed his face and slammed your lips against his, your mouths and tongues working in tandem, strands of spit dripping down your chins, San’s hands squeezing tightly into your hips, grinding against you so quick, so desperately, you were both about to reach your highs just from that.

“Sannie,” you sighed against his lips, caressing his jaw, his cock rubbing against your cunt in just the right way, your body pulsing with the need to be filled.

“Y/N,” he sighed back, pressing his forehead onto yours, the both of you breathing in the same air, the thick, throbbing length of his cock rubbing deliciously along your clothed slit until your lower halves began to jolt, your moans and gasps crescendoing in unison. “Cumming? Are you cumming for me, baby?”

“Y–esss, Sannie, m’ cumming for you,” you cried out, holding onto him as tightly as you could, your nails digging lightly into his back, feeling his muscles contracting. “Cum for me too, please, baby, let me see you.”

San let out a choked, whiny moan, panting heavily, losing his quick, focused thrusts, opting for sloppy, abrupt movements, barely about to get out the word, “B–abyyy…”

You both fell apart in each other’s arms, your eyes never breaking contact, your combined arousal soaking through your respective undergarments.

Once you both caught your breath, San reached down to rub your pussy with two thick fingers, able to see your slit through your shiny, see-through panties, his cum-covered cock already twitching back to life. “Fuck, baby, look at that…you’re completely soaked.”

“Just for you,” you nodded, spreading your thighs open further, pulling the hem of your panties up a bit to emphasize your puffy cunt, your clit pressing into the soft cloth material.

“Oh my god, baby, I need to taste you,” San suddenly whined, squeezing his fingers into the softness of your thighs, lowering himself down to take a deep inhale of your arousal, his head going completely fuzzy, unable to keep himself from drooling onto your cunt.

You slipped your fingers into his soft hair, bringing his face against your heat, sighing at the feeling of his nose bumping against your clit as he took another deep breath, shuddering when he began to tongue your cunt through your panties. “That’s it, Sannie, feels so good,” you moaned, your praise going straight to San’s cock, causing it to strain against his stained briefs.

“Mmmn,” San moaned against your pussy, licking one slow, long strip up your slit to your clit, filled with so much need for you that he couldn’t keep himself from tearing your panties off of you with one quick tug, making you gasp and release more slick, his mouth already on you to lap it right up, his other hand shoving his briefs down so that his cock could spring out against his abdomen, pre-cum smearing across his tan skin. “This pussy is all mine, baby…mine to eat, mine to fuck….mine to fill, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sannie, all yours, it’s all yours,” you answered, clutching his hair, desperately grinding your cunt against his tongue when he held it out, looking deep into his eyes that never left yours for a second, suddenly gasping out when San spread your hole open, sending a wad of spit inside before his agile tongue slipped inside of you.

San grabbed the undersides of your thighs and lifted your lower half up so that he could tongue fuck you as deep as humanly possible, letting out a pleased moan each time his tongue entered your soaked, pulsing hole. He kept going until you saw stars, going ‘uh-huhhh, uh-huhhh’ as soon as you began to shudder, your arousal squirting out and soaking his flushed face.

“My pretty baby came so hard for me,” San sighed, licking your wetness up from your sensitive cunt and his lips, before he brought you in for another sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself.

The longer you kissed, the more you wanted him inside you, needed him to fuck his love into you until you couldn’t remember your own name. You needed him so badly, you didnt even realize what you were doing until you had found yourself pushing San down onto the fur carpet below and straddling him, sitting on his lap in a way that showed the both of you exactly where his long, veiny cock would reach inside of you once he filled you up. “Need you, Sannie. Need you now.”

“You can have me, baby.” San’s cock twitched against your abdomen, his hands rubbing your thighs, eventually lifting you up and down onto his cock, groaning at the feeling of your pussy swallowing his length inch by inch. “Fuck, princess, have all of me.”

Instinctively, San began to buck his hips up into you, filling you up so well, you felt a bit dizzy, encouraging you to hold onto his chest, still taking his cock deep inside your cunt like you were made for him.

San must’ve agreed too because he couldn’t keep from groaning out, “Look at you, babygirl, look at the way you’re taking me, taking my cock so deep–” He pressed one hand to your abdomen, feeling the bulge his cock made each time he fucked into you, driving the both of you crazy. “Your pretty pussy was made for me, baby. Made just for me. You’re mine, babygirl.”

“Yours.” You quickly lowered yourself down to kiss him, his hands sliding up and down along your body to feel your warm skin underneath his touch, eventually settling his hands on your cheeks, wiping a few of your tears away when you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Cum for me, Y/N…You can do it…Fall apart for me, baby, ” San encouraged in between heavy breaths, slowing the movements of his hips down, instead filling you up in a slow and meticulous manner, drawing your intense orgasm out of you. “Yes, baby, that’s it, that’s it…”

“Sannnn, oh my god, San.” The longer you fell apart, the tighter your pussy constricted around San’s cock, causing him to throw his head back, sweat dripping down along his straining neck, his veins growing more visible when he gripped your thighs tightly. “Fill me up, Sannie. Need your cum inside.”

“Cumminggg, princess, oh my god, baby girl,” San groaned heavily, lifting you up and down on his throbbing length, before fully sheathing himself inside you, coating your walls with white.

Panting, you both gazed at each other’s sweat-covered faces and bodies, knowing internally that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

“Again?”

“Again.”

San didn’t waste any time gently pulling you off of him and climbing on top of you instead, spreading you open and filling you back up, sighing at the sight of your mixed arousal forming a ring around the base of his cock each time he pounded himself into you. “You’re so full of my cum, baby…so full of my cock, aren’t you, pretty girl?”

“So full for you, Sannie, don’t stop,” you gasped, hardly able to breathe with the way he had you folded up, your legs over his shoulders, his cock slamming so deep inside you that you swore he was hitting your womb.

“Wasn’t gonna,” San exhaled, chuckling softly, his lips curling up to give you a smile, his eyes creasing with amusement. “Need to show you my love.”

“Show me, baby,” you sighed affectionately, smiling back at him, giggling at the sight of his eyes lighting up, before you pressed a kiss to his lips.

The wet, sloppy sound of your bodies joining together over and over filled up the otherwise quiet cabin, along with your harmonious moans, the remaining pieces of firewood still crackling away beside you. Time seemed to stop completely. It was just you and him, coming undone together for what seemed like a lifetime.

You both ended up back on the couch, your limbs and bodies entangled, snuggling together underneath the cozy blanket, talking with each other about anything and everything until your eyelids grew heavy, leading you to drift off, your fingers clasped together.

Before you could fully fall asleep, you nuzzled your cheek against San’s chest, gently inhaling his comforting scent. He smelled like aftershave, warm cedar wood, and spiced cinnamon. It reminded you of your time there at the cabin, the memories you spent together, both good and bad, swirling together to form a comfortingly bittersweet concoction, one that you would consume in every lifetime.

“San,” you whispered softly into the darkness, the fire beside the both of you now ashes and smoke.

“Yes, Y/N?” he whispered back, his arms closing around you protectively.

You sighed against his skin, your body and heart melting like the snow would begin to do as well, once the sun came up. “I love you so much, San…” You lifted your head up, hovering above him so that you could look down at him, your fingers clutching his jaw, your expression so soft San thought you might cry. “I want to show you how to share some of that love with yourself one day.”

San smiled up at you, his eyes full of so much adoration for you, it threatened to spill out of him, his fingers running through your hair. “You showed me, Y/N. Through it all, behind every word, every action, I still saw it there. That’s why I put myself first and confessed to you.” He smiled softly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’m…not nearly as put together as I seem. I just love you so much, it makes me want to be strong. For you. And…for me.”

You didn’t realize you were crying too until you saw your teardrops land on his face and slide down his cheek, wondering if your icy heart had finally melted, and that was why there were so many tears escaping from your blurry eyes. “Oh, San, my sweet San, I’ll be here to watch you grow, I promise,” you murmured, hugging onto him and laying back down to rest your head on his chest, gently rolling the ring around your finger.

San’s hand came up from underneath the blanket to rest on top of yours. He squeezed your hand and you squeezed right back. “Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated softly, closing your eyes, your heart at peace. “As long as you promise to watch me too.”

San closed his eyes too, a few more happy tears dripping past his cheeks, squeezing you just a little tighter than before. San felt safe. Whole. “I’d love nothing more, Y/N.”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[cyborg-franky]

Prompt: How would the straw hats react to reader being a mind reader? Please and thanks

Repost of mine from libary of ohara

Sanji Sanji is sweating because every time he has an intimate thought about you or anyone else, he can feel eyes on him. You glare and he fidgets under the intensity of it, wondering if you will blurt out the dirty thoughts to anyone else.

Every time he thinks it’s safe to think about how good the woman at the bar would look without their dress, he has to stop himself, turning with a wide eye and seeing you glare at him while sipping your drink. Just ruins the boy’s entire life.

Usopp Another one who just opens and closes his mouth when you are around because after he lies and tells people these big, impressive stories that didn’t happen. You side up to him and ask him why he lied, you are so casual about it too.

Every time he’s about to lie to anyone, you raise an eyebrow, and he just laughs loudly and pretends like it was all fun and games. Now whenever he wants to talk to someone, he literally looks around to see if you are about

Chopper

He is so amazed! That’s a great power to have! He bounces up and down and is just giddy and asks you all about it. You sometimes read his mind and it goes from dumb stuff like ‘I want candy floss’ to something like complex potions to cure all manner of illnesses.

Robin She terrifies you. She’ll be sat there reading a book or just casually sitting at the bar, elbow keeping he propped up, hand on her cheek, her smile just slyly grows as your eyes do when you read what’s on her mind. She loves to mess with you.

She’ll purposely think of something dark or downright filthyand chuckle softly when she gets the reaction, she wants from you.

Nami Oh, you stopped doing that. You completely turn off your power when it comes to Nami, she can somehow always tell when you are in her head, and she’ll turn around with her hand outstretched and tell you the show was more money than you have.

Zoro Zoro’s mind is boring, it’s full of a collection of very ‘Zoro’ things such as booze, hating Sanji, working out and his swords. Plus, Zoro never thinks anything that he wouldn’t say out loud, he’s no fun and he knows that’s how you think and always smirks and thinks ‘nice try’

Franky Franky’s mind gives you a headache if you stay there too long. His face might often say ‘head empty’ but he is always thinking loudlyto himself and has so many projects flying through his head. So many complex designs, schismatics, maths, it’s all very exhausting for you.

Brook Brook doesn’t care if you read his mind so he’s very chill around you, he’s normally just humming inside his mind, and you hate that he can get songs stuck in your head. Like a constant source of the sound, if he’s not humming in his head, he’s humming out loud or thinking about asking if he should ask someone to see their panties.

Jinbei I imagine it’s very serene in there, like a little koi pond with the sound of wind chimes and you just get lost in there until he stubs his toe or something and it’s like a loud internal scream. Same when any of the crew does something stupid and poor Jinbei has to pick up the pieces.

Luffy “THAT’S SO COOL.” He’ll yell at you. The entire reason you’re on the crew was that Luffy found out you can read minds and he needed that on his crew like right now. He’ll sit there and always go “What am I thinking now?…. and now?… and now!!” and it’s always ‘wow that’s so cool’ or ‘I’m hungry, I’m going to ask them to get me meat…”

[butterfluffy]

strawhats + d. mihawk with a healer!s/o

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳· what would it be like being a healer, and an s/o to these people?

⠀⠀➧ unlabeled | strawhats, d. mihawk (separate)  x gn!reader | multi-character headcanons

⠀⠀➧ warnings — idk, none, ig? mistakes may be present tho.. so do ignore them, thanks.

⠀⠀➧ requests are closed, sorryyyyy..!

⠀⠀꒰ 🍨 ꒱ notes: finally writing to clear out my inbox aAaaaAahhHhhHHHHh

req by @n0body-1mportant

MONKEY D. LUFFY

This trouble maker captain right here is always injured lol

So that said, you always go on healing your big, trouble maker baby

Wild card : Though he can take punches, kicks, and even stabs without screaming in pain—Luffy starts whining like a poor puppy everytime he comes to ask you to patch him up.

“Y/n...! Look, look, I'm heavily injured! I'm reaallyy hurt! Won't you heal me!? And, and! Won't you give me a kiss, too, for doing a great job in beating that bastard's ass!?”

RORONOA ZORO

Same as his captain, the first mate is always injured—due to fights, his harsh training, and other causes

..Despite always being injured, Zoro hates getting himself patched up. But if you're the one doing the healing so he could get better, it's all good for him!

Wild card : Zoro doesn't care if he's greatly bleeding out during a fight—but outside a fight, if he got the smallest cut, Zoro immediately dashes to you to get himself healed up..!

“Hey, so, I was peeling myself apples a while ago using that ero-cook's damned knife—now I got this cut. Heal it now, and eat these with me, yeah?”

NAMI

Nami very much hates getting herself injured, especially getting scars

So Nami is quick to rush to you to get her injury fixed

Wild card : this happens quite rarely, since as said above, she hates getting scars—but, nami sometimes get herself injured on 'places' to see you flushed when she asks you to heal it~

“Babyyy..! Look, look! Look at my perfectly beautiful legs here! They've got a scar! Their beauty has been tarnished, so, please.. Take care of them, yeah~?”

USOPP

Usopp avoids getting himself injured at all cost.

And when he does get injured, he screeches as he dash towards you with tears on his eyes, asking you to heal his injury ASAP.

Wild card : I have this headcanon for Usopp where he's a real clutz, so he always has an injury here and there, and wounds that he doesn't know where it came from.

“Y-Y/n..! W..When I woke up, I saw this new wound on my arm..! I..I don't know where it came from—it's probably from the spirits that I've angered, waaahh!!”

(it was caused by Luffy. He was dreaming that Usopp was a piece of meat, and bit him during their sleep. 💀)

VINSMOKE SANJI

As the left hand man of the ship's captain, Sanji is always out on a fight to support his captain, so injuries are unavoidable.

He's developed durability to the beating up he receives and shows it off his coolness to you, BUT AFTER THE FIGHT, he whines.

Wild card : This perv right here always has a nosebleed everytime you go patch up his beaten up ass, causing you more trouble.

“My loveee..! I'm injured, I'm badly hurt..! Everything's so painful, so please, heal me with your magic kiss—*you kiss him* *he nosebleeds*”

NICO ROBIN

Robin isn't a big fan of getting injuries during combat, or whenever.

Though despite being injured, she handles it like a Queen! (You don't.)

Wild card : As said above she handles her injuries like the Queen she is, BUT, you don't—you're more panicked when she's injured as she stays calm while telling you some morbid jokes.

“Darling.. Please calm down. I'm not going to die, you know? All I got is this small scratch the size of a severed finger, so, don't worry about me too much, okay?”

FRANKY

SUPEEEERRRRR Franky right here who's a barely gets himself injured.

↑ Why? Because, he's a cyborg, a cool one who will barely get a scratch..!

Wild card : ...When Franky does get injured for some reason being during a fight or where else, he starts crying like a small child to you as he asks you to heal him...!

“Waaahh! This damned injury hurts so bad..! It's SUPEEEERRRR painful, I'm gonna cry! Y/n, Y/n, quick, quickly, heal me and ease my pain..!!”

DRACULE MIHAWK

The greatest swordsman? Injured?? Pfft, not a chance.

Though when he's going against strong fellas, he gets some scratches here and there, which he deals with by himself—not wanting to bother you.

Wild card : Mihawk doesn't show it, but, he loves, and finds it cute when you insist on helping him with his injury that he already had managed, or can obviously handle fixing by himself.

“My dear... I already fixed my injury, so don't worry about it. But.. If you really insist on using your ability to speed up the healing process.. Alright. I'll let you.”

© butterfluffy 2023

⠀⠀ʚїɞ · likes, comments, reblogs, and/or feedbacks are highly appreciated!

[princeoftheeternalbog]

Would op boys catch you if you fell? Lets find out next time on dragonball- no sorry it just reminded me of that narrator ANYWAYS.

I only did boys because i didnt have much inspi for Nami and Robin so i decided to wait until i do cos I don't wanna half arse stuff.

So anyways I feel like I saw someone do this idea already but it might've been just one character like a law x reader? I'm not sure but I would love to tag them so if you know please tell me ! I will also try to make sure mine is different :p.

Luffy

Depends. Like if he's fighting or eating then probably not but if he thinks you might get hurt then he will 100% attempt to catch you. Key word being attempt. Poor boy probably makes the fall 10x worse, like if you trip on one step you're suddenly falling down the entire flight of stairs with a weight on top of you. He will apologise though so at least there's that.

Zoro

He always catches you. Or prevents the fall in the first place. He tells himself it's so you're not unnecessarily out of commission for a fight but really he's a huge softie. Though he always catches you really ungracefully, llike there’s no princess carrying here, he's holding you upside down by the ankle with one hand fr. He scolds you every time too like- "Why do you never watch where you're going" or "Tie your shoes next time idiot", which you should hear as "I can't stand watching you get hurt". Cutie:(

Sanji

Oh you know he does. He lives for romance and what's more romantic than saving your beloved from certain doom (tripping on a rock). Oh he also does it in the most dramatic way possible, he'd rather throw himself to the ground underneath you then let you hit the floor, he's doing twirls, picking you up with one arm, occasionally will throw you in the air first so he can rearrange what he's holding. Menace tbh, like he's just obsessed with teasing you in any way possible.

Usopp

Another one who tries his best…tries🙁. He's always so dramatic about it too, he literally screams your name like you're in a horror movie and everyone is always like "WHAT'S WRONG?!" and Usopps just "Oh they tripped on a step". He either injures one of you in his attempt to catch you OR you both end up in the most compromising positions just as someone walks past . He goes so red trying to explain the situation while also trying to check if youre okay😭.

Franky

Oh every time and it’s smooth as hell every single time. Says super cheesy lines every time like “OWWWW GUESS YOU FELL FOR ME BABE”, and he gets sparkly eyed every time, he loves romance as a genre and finds it superrrrrrrr(😚) cute when something happens that matches a trope he's read. If he didn't catch you he'd probably panic and constantly apologise but just give him a kiss and he'll forget about it soon enough.

Brook

Catches you every time, really gently and really romantically. Instead of just full on catching you, he'll purposefully slow your momentum to minimise injuries in case his attempt at grabbing you fails because then you'd both fall and he'd rather not. Like if you trip into him then he'll pull you both into a delicate spin type of dancing and you're like huh??? He thinks its a really cute trait to be honest but it also makes him really worried about your safety so he likes to keep one hand on you at all times.

Jinbei

Catches you as often as he can, like he won't sprint across the ship to stop you from falling but as long as you're in his reach you will never hit the ground. And he always catches you really gently like you barely feel the impact so sometimes you won't even notice you've tripped until later when you see the scuff on your shoe or something. He really likes holding your hand to make sure you ‘keep your balance’.

Law

He doesn't want to look soft so he tries to force himself not to catch you for just harmless falls...yeah no that doesn't work. As soon as he sees you losing balance you hear that ever familiar room, shambles and then you're in his arms. If it's later in your relationship then he's a menace, he will use this to tease you, like "Oh. Looks like an angel fell into my arms" with this stupid ass smug smirk. He's just really obsessed with you.

Kidd

Catches you most of the time unless it's gonna be really funny. Also he catches you super awkwardly, like he's so obsessed with you but he never knows where to put his hands because hes not used to giving affection so it's like just in the most ungraceful ways. You are literally being held up by his arm around your thigh or something and you're like what the fuck and he's just stood there 🧍🏻‍♀️.

Killer

Prevents the tripping and catches you if necessary. But if you're too clumsy then he just starts getting huffy and hauls you up into his arms so there's no risk of you falling whatsover...and then you bang your head against the ceiling- He probably feels so bad if you get hurt because of him to be honest, he tries so hard to make you happy yk. Anyways at some point he just starts adding cushion to all the potentially harmful areas on the ship so even if you do fall it doesn't hurt.

[badly-drawn-doflamingo]

The Brutality (and some censoring) Of The Rumbar Deaths.

Similar to my piece on Yorki and his lil sickness, this is again just something that haunts me constantly and is honestly something I don’t see anyone else talking about. Maybe this is because I have Rumbar Pirates autism. The deaths of the Rumbar Pirates are often thought to just be the snippet we see during their final moments, however Oda paints a much darker picture, with such dark hues the anime had to censor some of this. More than just Binks Sake happened to these men.

To begin, I am going to introduce you all to a certain Rumbar Pirate. Pirates.

This is Madaisuki! He has a twin brother named Madawadasuki Mizuta!

These Mizuta boys are named this because they are the japanese pun of “I love DOTS!” and “Dots ain’t half bad!” We know they were young, and that they wanted to be just like Brook. (I will go over these statements a bit later.) They wore matching clothing, mirroring one another as some twins do, having a tight bond. We already know their candles were snuffed out too short, but do you know how this happened to each? Madawadasuki is shown in the Bink’s Sake flashback, blood pooling on his temple and matting some of his hair. He looks tired, but with a smile, plays on with the other remaining crew. That is the key word here, remaining. There were hundreds of men on this ship yet THIS is what we see surrounding Brook on the deck? Where are the rest. THAT is where Madaisuki comes in. 

Madaisuki does not die on screen, but his body, just the body, is gruesome enough that the anime had to censor it. When we find the young man, he is in one of the off rooms, looks to be the dining area, thrown onto the floor with his arms outstretched, with his hair still attached to the skull.

This is not the reason behind the censoring, no, the reason is the cause of death.

Plunged into his skull and back, pinning his body to the floor with his jaw still open, are his own weapons. His own swords pin his body to the floor, so even if he somehow survived the attack, he could not get up, however with your own blade through your brain case and into the blood spattered floor below you, that is not much of an option. Those swords.. they also are made to mirror YORKI’S. They both wanted to be just like their Captains.

[ more info on Maddy here ]

This leaves a few things open for the reader to take in. Why is he tucked away in an off room like this? Well, it means the battle either continued into these rooms, not just on deck, which is more than likely shown by the shattered mirrors and doors in the bedrooms and hallways we see, or poor Madaisuki was cornered, overpowered, and butchered.

In any case, this means his brother either also saw this and continued to smile and sing for Laboon, or held a hope that somehow, his twin was just somewhere else, tucked away to die in peace. How many other men died this way, for we see bedroom doors torn off hinges and blood spattering the walls.

Time doesn’t do that, a butchering does.

This is just one body, one upon hundreds, we know this because of a line Franky states so casually I am unsure if the anime added it; “We could not carry them all, we buried them here. The weight was too much for the Sunny to take.”

The weight was too much for the Sunny to take.

How many men died, because those multiple upon multiple coffins were not filled with bodies, but skulls. Only skulls.

If the ship cannot carry it, how do we expect BROOK?? He must hold grief for he was acting Captian, these things on his head alone, and knowing he failed his partner, my god, that must ache. To know you created widows, fatherless children, families who will never know if their little boys or men or partners or fathers would come home. No closure, only Brook, and the poison that caused the remaining light-hearted musicians to bleed out in their little heap.

When Brook picks up the skull of Madaisuki, a memory comes to mind. Perhaps not a recent one, for he knew them for many years, but one that stood out to him. One Oda chose for us to see as a representation of Brook’s thoughts;

“You’re awesome, Brook! Can you teach me to swordfight like you?”

We see the body, with his own weapons used against him, holding his corpse in place with a hole blasted through his brain. His polka dots he adored are spattered as well, torn where his ribcage was cut open. Brook failed him. He failed them all, in his eyes, not the viewer or actuality. And this breaks my heart.

Update 1.0

Absolutely I think he does have his.. odd crew moments/interactions.

Sanji at the right angle, asking for something and the response is a slip up of “yes, my Captain!” In such a tone that Sanji could mistake himself as more than a crewmate in Brook’s eyes.

Somedays they finds the skeleton speaking to himself, small quolms or questions, asking to an invisible force in silence.

“John, how did you make your coffee again?”

“Madaisuki, how do you do this..?”

Some nights, he’s found over the beds, absent in all human aspects but dead, mute and upsettingly still.

When Usopp asks, after minutes of motionless, creeping anxiety, why does he just stand, why does he watch?

“I want to make sure you’re breathing! It means you’re real.”

[jolalibrary]

3. heather purple

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter three of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.8k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you do wear a top and jeans tho. minor worrying/nervousness. no use of y/n. an: i love them i love them i love them

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Nervous energy pulsates through you.

It first manifested as a rattle, an annoyance when your eyes opened this morning. Now, it had grown into moving things half an inch and constant tapping—on surfaces, on you, on walls. All restless, practically relentless—vibrating and thrumming.

Then, your teeth began lazily, grazing over your lower lip, eyes flicking to the clock—fingers adjusting your laptop on the counter for what feels like the tenth time in as many minutes.

With a catch of your thumb, your phone illuminates, another nervous-tic, another thing you've been doing for the last so many moments.

Even if you know he’s on his way, having told you as much.

Normally, you would find it easy to calm yourself through pacing, the flexing of your fingers, and deep, soothing breaths. But not this time.

This time, it lingers. A persistent knot in your stomach that refuses to unravel and instead attempts to bathe in giddiness—a sensation you’d never imagined, never mind expected.

Suddenly, with another fluttering jolt, you wish you could backtrack the messages you had sent. The ones that had invited him—jovially, before seriously.

Because despite spending several minutes leaning on your cool, kitchen counter, with a glass of water pressed to your neck, warmth is still radiating from your skin.

The thinnest layer of sweat still remains on the base of your spine, sticking; the same as it is around your head—no matter how often you dab it away.

Admittedly, it’s all self-inflicted. Caused by the fact you had tried on a thousand things within the last half an hour. All of the failures were discarded, shoved (all unceremoniously), at the bottom of your closet, the door shoved shut in frustration.

Nothing had felt right. Nothing had looked right.

A mess of worries and overthinking churning in your head, all caused by your friend's echoing voice as you stared at yourself in the mirror:

Do you think he’ll size up your new office and then size you up? Do you think this is a date? Do you think he’s expecting to see your bedroom? Because if you count the coffee, this is the third, which means—

At the time, it had been easy to laugh. Play it down—continue to wash your dishes and clean around the sink.

But, it’s when the goodbyes had been exchanged; when there were no more cups or plates to clean, and you found yourself alone with nothing but the sounds of suds swirling down the drain. That's when your mind began to wander. To weave patterns of concerns, begin concocting.

Do you think…Do you think?

Do you think?

Deep down, you know it doesn't matter. Less so as your hand brushes over your face, heavy sigh exhaled, because he'd be here soon.

In your home.

Frankie would be able to see the poor state of your “remodel” or “flip” or whatever term it is for when you buy a rundown thing and try and make it liveable. He'd be able to see exactly why you'd looked lost in the hardware store he works, because look at your home. The place where you rest, sleep and work.

You could come and see it for yourself, wouldn’t need to keep guessing what I’m dreaming up. Yeah? You sure? Well, it would be easier than me trying to explain the issues I’m faced with because until an hour ago I didn’t know what a wrench was called. What did you use to call it? Tightening-tighty. Fitting name. I thought so too—until your latest “helpful” video ruined it. At least you’re learning now how selfish I am. You are, but I’ll forgive you because you have a nice smile. Is the smile enough to upgrade me from DMs to a phone number? Oh, you are pushing it. Well, to keep on pushing and this is presumptuous, but I can come round tomorrow. After I’ve finished up at work. Luca is back with his mom. Yeah? Send me your address and I’ll be there, rainy. I’ll send you my number too, so you can call when you leave.

And you had.

Then, tomorrow had become today, and you’d found yourself trying to flood the worries from your half-a-job redecorating with cleaning.

Some of it alleviated by decluttering half-empty boxes from around the base of pale walls, but part of it added more issues to your plate because suddenly you wished you had more plants. More colour.

More anything.

Because it’s bare, a barren of nothing. There are marks on the floor not lifted from scrubbing and cracks in the wall that need filling.

Disappointment lands on your shoulders, weighed down with pinched regret—because you realise (once again, having lived in blissful ignorance) that there is so much to do.

Swallowing, you glance around, scents of wood polish and floor spray swirling. You glare at the many holes filled in by the previous owners. The ones not painted over just yet.

Because you hadn’t decided on a shade—no colour scheme having jumped out.

The place is all just pale, off-white or faded magnolia.

"Fuck."

The urge to crawl into a ball rises, a sickening feeling swirling.

Somehow, if the state of your home doesn’t scare him away, a small part of you knows it can find comfort that maybe your humour is enough to keep him around.

A thought that should relax you, but instead makes your stomach twist more. Because you're not actually sure you're that funny. A realisation that forces your palms to become tacky, the thinnest layer of sweat trying to appear there, as well as everywhere else.

Because you like him.

The knowledge of it pricking at you, making you bite the skin from your lip and pick at your nails; it makes you wiggle your toes inside your socks on the wooden floor and fight a smile at something funny he’d said last night.

And then you hear it.

Wheels. Tyres crunch gravel as a black pick-up pulls up outside your home. One you remember from outside the store, from parking several blocks down from yours.

He’s here.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s fucking here—

The thought rotating, spinning—like a whirlpool drenching you in more sweat and making your head dizzy all at once.

You can’t move, can’t unstick yourself from the floorboard you’re on. Watching. Transfixed. Both feeling joy that he has come (as he said he would) and filled with horror because it’s happening, it’s all fucking happening.

With each step he takes up your drive, you want to bolt from your place and hide in your bedroom. Pretend you’re not home. Pretend something came up.

But you can’t lie.

Guilt swallowing that immediate thought. Watching him get closer and closer, until his knuckles wrap on the door, the noise filling your barely-filled home.

Fuck.

You manage to move then. All quiet steps. Delicate in how you cross the room that’s become a poor attempt at a living room.

Wrapping your palm around the handle, you’re surprised at its sudden heaviness—all cold, so cool against your skin it almost makes you hiss. Almost slipping when you turn it, palm so slick with nervousness as your arm tries to vibrate in its socket.

Opening the door, you disguise it. Layer all your worries and unravelling under a mask. Smothering and burying it in a smile—practically instantaneously. As though it’s the easiest thing to do around him.

But then, it is.

Because even if the rest of your body is having some reaction to the idea he could be stepping inside, you find yourself unable to help but grin. Not able to help lighting up like fairy lights hanging in the darkest night.

And, in the milliseconds of the two of you standing there, you actually begin to feel better.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you reply, grin growing, forcing your cheeks to hurt in a matter of beats.

And you know you should move, let him in. But, what does it mean if you do? That voice, the one growing louder, who speaks nothing but worse cases and negativity, begins to increase in pitch. Smothering the sound of birds and someone cutting their grass several houses down.

Because is he here to measure up, to give recommendations—or will he kiss you again like he did against your car? Will his mouth move to other places, hands busying themselves, peeling? Will he be disappointed by what lies underneath your comfortable t-shirt and—

“You gonna invite me in?”

Pausing, you lower your gaze to the floor, leaning against the door for a moment. Eyes catching spots of purple on his jeans, finding yourself staring, glancing at how they resemble petals scattered in a careless dance.

You know it likely was accidental, a mere mishap, but it looks pretty, intentional. Even if it's likely tarnished an overworn, maybe slightly beloved pair of jeans.

He says your name, forcing your head up. Speaking it all soft—so full of care and intention—it almost makes you swoon and crack. Almost makes you widen the door to let him inside.

“I’m embarrassed. It’s… it’s not even—“

“Hey, hey, look at me.” And you do, like nothing could be simpler. “I know you haven’t long moved in—and, you wouldn’t be askin’ for an opinion if it looked the best it ever could. Right?”

“Right.”

“So, let me in b… Rainy, please.”

You don’t miss it.

Even if you pretend you do.

It circling, playing. Imagination fuelled up and running the show now.

A thing which drowns the worries, holds its head under water as your brain begins to wonder what him calling you baby could sound like, be like.

Slowly, you lift your head from the door and step to the side to let him in.

Thankful you do, because you catch the scent of the hardware store—one you found you’ve actually really, really missed.

As though picking up on the thousand hints at how on edge you are, Frankie asks to see the dresser.

Makes a comment about needing to see if the paint covered, if butterscotch orange looked as good on wood as it did on walls.

You don’t argue, instead leading the way. Take him past your sofa and armchair right into the kitchen. As you do, he shares his day, weaves in bits on Harry—how he’s nothing but a torment, even if he says it with a grin.

“He asked about you.”

Thankful for the pot boiling, you pour him a cup of coffee, placing it down before clutching your own. Admiring the way he’s squatted down next to the dresser—fingers sliding over the edges.

“And, what did you tell him?”

Shrugging, Frankie looks over his shoulder—a smile there, evident, easily present. “Said I would ask when I saw you tonight—but, that I assumed you were good from how much you made me laugh last night.”

Heat burns your ears, almost making them match the temperature of your palms from being around the mug.

You think, search, and feel desperate for something to say, all aiming to fill the emptiness when you begin explaining what you’ve already done to your 'cheap find'.

Doing so with as many technical terms as you remember from videos—how you’d restored it, sanded it, etc, etc.

It’s only when he looks over his shoulder again, do you realise how not-weird this is. How it doesn’t feel wrong—relaxing at the realisation, the room and house following suit.

Resting the cup to your chest, you clear your throat, “You know, you’re the first person outside of my best friend that’s been here.”

Brows raising, lost under his hat and curls, his smile slides up further into one cheek. “That makes me special, right?”

“Oh, I think you know you’re special, Morales. I’ve read the comments under your videos.”

A bark of laughter leaves him, head shaking, attention turning back to the dresser as he runs his hand over the top.

“You’ve done good.”

Instantly, you grin. Folding your arms, remaining leaning against the side of the kitchen counter as you almost let a ‘yeah?’ escape, that you instead trade for: “You sound surprised.”

“You did imply you were hopeless.”

Shrugging, you watch him stand tall, fingers itching under the front of his hat as he leans against the wall.

“I am still hopeless.”

Shaking his head, he does nothing but grin—gifting you one full of warmth and sunshine. “I think you’ve just not had someone to show you, that’s all.”

“That going to be you?”

His tongue slides into his cheek, giving a half-shrug as he moves closer, pausing at the side of your kitchen counter. “If you want.”

“You don’t mind that I might have Pinterest boards?”

Chewing his cheek, he smirks as broad and as wide as his shoulders—as though it is difficult to contain. “You definitely have them. Wouldn’t believe you if you said you didn’t?”

Heat warms your cheek, and remains there—burning and pulsing as you avert your eyes briefly. “Maybe I have them.”

His laugh escapes quickly, almost loudly, booming and echoing like before. And you want him to do it again, needing to, as soon as it dies down to flood from him and land against the walls again.

But, instead, you take a large mouthful, placing the mug down. "Shall I show you my dream?"

Heading to show him the spare room, the one that you’re hoping to make into an office, his work boots sound out, echoing around the stripped-back hallway and bare flooring.

There's a comfortable quiet you don’t wish to allow to shift when you head down the hallway, beginning to explain. Hands moving, gesturing, sporadically glancing over your shoulder as he follows—finding his eyes don’t fall to the open boxes, but remain firmly on you.

It isn’t until you step inside the open doorway and he pauses at the do you (on command) continue talking. Slowly pointing to where you think you’d want things. Listing, nose-scrunching as you say how nice it would be to have floor-to-ceiling shelving, an armchair—a desk with space for work. A plant here, maybe one there.

How you want to move from your kitchen counter to in here for work—maybe put up a piece of art here, some nice curtains there. A real desk chair that’ll support your back.

You only stop when you look back and find him resting his forearm on the doorway, not looking anywhere around the room, just at you.

And it makes you pause. Mesmerised, by the way he rolls the pads of his fingers against his thumb, his forearm flexing and how the end of his t-shirt has slightly risen due to his leans. It undoes you, making you forget what room you're even standing in as your brain melts and you become rendered completely, fucking useless.

The spell doesn’t break until his arm drops, fingers push his hat up, eyes warming as he takes the space in. “You want to work near the window?”

Nodding, you move to the side, allowing him space, watching him as he takes his eyes off you, moves into the room and stares around. He sweeps his gaze, brows furrowing occasionally before he stops close to the window.

Sliding the pencil from the top of his ear, he pulls a pad of paper from his pocket. Jotting things down, sketching—eyes zig-zagging across the wall as he tries to mark whatever his thought is down. Mouth moving, occasionally hearing him working out numbers, before the sound is muffled by a scratch of the pencil.

You’re in awe. Just observing. Making no sense of what it is he’s drawing. Least of all what he’s thinking. But gosh, is he handsome when he does it.

More so, when that soft smile creeps back over his face at you watching him, and you worry (briefly) whether you’ve said it out loud.

“You’d have a nice view if your desk was here.”

“Got a nice one right now.”

Snorting, Frankie rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth ticking up into his cheek. “How much do you hate yourself for saying that?”

“Only a smidge,” you say, finger and thumb close together.

Holding his stare, you find the softness of his smile has spread to his eyes, and you can't help but roll your eyes. "Fine. Maybe a little more than a smidge," you amend, your own smile mirroring his.

His laughter fills the room once again, and you can't help but join in. The two of you standing there, and all you want to do is pinch yourself. Not sure how this could be real; how he could be, how all of this could be. How the grin on your face is really there and he’s really here—

“I’m thinking,” he begins. Voice clearing, eyes looking around. “We could build you a floor-to-ceiling set of shelves here like you want—maybe add some cupboards. Could be a nice backdrop if you’re sitting there. Can have it pre-built, or I can help you measure it, build it? Probably need—“

You should be listening. Maybe even making notes.

Not flicking your eyes to his lips, watching the way his face furrows or his lip curls in between listing things.

“How?"

"How, what?"

Swallowing, you exhale. "Did you get so good at that?”

His lips slide into his cheek. “At what?”

Tilting your head, you purse your lip, drop your arm from his shoulder, gesturing, finding the words. “I just watched you like—measure, with your head. I think I heard your brain... calculating?”

He pauses, mouth remaining open, a twinkle shimmering in his eye as he scratches at the curls hanging under his hat. “Oh, I… um. I used to fly. I was in the U.S. Army. Delta Force—guess I got good at measuring, doing calculations in my head, had to, you know?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that… that why you don't like to sit still either?”

Rolling his lips, he tucks the back behind his ear, nodding, a sheepish smile adorning his face.

“Well,” you say, “You’re good at it.”

Swallowing, he licks his lips, gaze not leaving you. “You not wanting to ask anything?”

“Should I?”

Shrugging, he licks his lip. Dragging it along slowly. “Some would.”

You shake your head, meeting his gaze. “I’m not some, am I?”

He considers it, your answer. Turns it over.

But his response isn’t verbal; it’s a gentle tug on the belt loop on your jeans, pulling you close. Out of instinct, your arm drapes over his shoulder. Silently thankful for the outfit choice, for choosing a nice top and jeans. Especially as you stand staring at him, eyes taking him in as he does the same.

Your heart pounds loudly in this definitive pause. A chance provided to cast your eyes away, to ask him what else he's thinking.

But that’s not what you want—not what you need.

Not as you close the small gap. Not as you watch his stare, all heavy and scorching, and how it drops to your lips, following a similar path you had taken on his face only a second prior.

Kiss me, you think.

But you realise as his lips slide into one cheek, dimple deepening, that the words had flowed out instead. Stretched out, laid a red carpet from yours to his.

And it’s inescapable, the pull you feel when your mouth marries itself to his, when your palm remains flush with his cheek, being greeted by the tickling of the wiry hairs on his jaw.

When he licks into your mouth, you’re gone—thrown off course and falling freely, all willingly, not wanting to ever land and not at all in fear of the descent as you grip him for stability. Neither of you stop when his hat falls from atop his head, landing with a crack on the floor.

Because it might be odd to have missed a mouth before, but you have.

Suddenly feeling all is right now it’s back against yours, where you write a story against his lips and taste the words he wishes to say in return. The room is empty, quiet—no backdrop this time compared to the street before—and so you can’t mask your whimpers, and you can’t mistake the sound of him groaning when you move him back so his back meets the walls.

Distantly aware of his hands gripping your waist, keeping you close, mouth chasing yours as you begin to grin, begin to feel him mirroring it.

And then he stops.

Pulls back.

A look on his face that’s unreadable and scrunched.

“I…”

Shame fires inside of you, like a key in an ignition, roaring itself to life. “I’m so sorry, Frankie—I thought, I mean—“

His hand comes around your wrist, stopping you, halting you in your desired path to move from him. “Stop, baby. Please.”

Baby.

It's there again. But this time, fully spoken, not held back.

“I just… I just want to do this right, is all. I’m… fuck, I’m here to help you. Meant to be a professional. Don’t… I don’t want you to think I tricked you into letting me in so I could… you know.”

Heat rises, billowing out across your cheek and neck. “I don’t… I don’t think that.”

“No?”

Shaking your head, you smile. “No.”

His chest fills before he lets out a loud exhale, thumb slowly drawing a circle on your wrist. “Good. ‘Cause…” he shakes his head as he bites his lower lip. “I want to take you out for dinner.” Index joining his thumb, both doing a pattern, as he whispers your name, forcing your eyes to meet his. “I want to treat you right. I… I don’t want to have come from work and—you know?”

Nodding you move a little closer, palm sliding over his cheek. “I know.”

He grins, sliding his palm down flush with yours, before he loops his fingers in between yours. “Good.”

“Good,” you whisper.

Tightening your hold on his, almost swinging it.

“Think you should kiss me again, though.”

Laughing, his eyes crinkle, dimple appearing briefly—but then he does.

Thank you for helping me move and assess the stability of my dresser.

No problem, glad to be of help.

I had a really nice time with you, Frankie.

How much did it pain you that you couldn’t work that into tease?

I’m wounded, bleeding out as we speak.

You need me to come back? Hold your hand.

Not sure that’s all I’d want you to do if you came back.

Not sure I’d keep my word about doing this right if I did either.

Because I’m an incredible kisser?

Because I didn’t want to leave you at all.

Wish you hadn’t, honestly.

Don’t tell me this, I’ll get back in my truck and come back.

Oh, the dreadfulness if you did.

Did you just use the word dreadfulness?

I did, and I stand by it.

What you doing on Friday at 7pm?

What do you want me to be doing on Friday at 7pm?

I want you to be sat opposite me at a place in town, candle in the middle.

Guess I can move things around to play footsie.

I’m eternally grateful.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[rebouks]

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Ivan: Y’pretty much good t’go, but… Frankie: It’s on its last legs? Ivan: ‘Fraid so. Frankie: I thought as much. Ivan: Y’could probably fix it up but it’d cost a fortune n’ there ain’t much point with all that rust. Frankie: No, I know.. it’s fine. [Ivan fell silent as Frankie stared at her old rust bucket dejectedly. She looked like she could use a cuddle but not everyone was a hugger and she seemed awfully skittish, so it probably wasn’t a good idea-.. besides, he was covered in oil] Ivan: Y’alright? Frankie: I guess I just didn’t think life would turn out this way, y’know? Ivan: Aye… Frankie: Sorry-.. thank you so so much, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. Ivan: Nah, I do this shi-.. stuff for fun. Frankie: Really? Ivan: Yeah, s’fine. Frankie: Free coffee then? Ivan: That’ll do. … [seagulls calling] Pixie: Do you like Frankie? Ivan: Sure, why wouldn’t I? Pixie: No, I mean like like. [Ivan scoffed, shaking his head dismissively] Pixie: You never stop yourself from swearing like that though. Ivan: Well, she’s a polite lady-.. n’ y’shouldn’t have been listenin’ in, anyway! Jude: Did you know she’s divorced? Ivan: How d’you know that? Jude: Levi told me and Robin. Apparently, her ex is a complete twat and he’s constantly trying-… Ivan: Alright, let’s not gossip about the poor woman-.. christ. Jude: Just saying. Ivan: Yeah, yeah.. how ‘bout y’shut it instead.

[portgasdwrld]

Strawhat reactions to a chiropractor or massage therapist joining their crew? (Sfw) I know they get injured and could use it.

I love those random ideas lately 😭helps me out if my writer block💕

📂Strawhat + chiropractor/massage therapist reader joining their crew

Mostly them reacting to you proposing them a session

Luffy

He’s so fucking excited. He’s jumping everywhere, begging to be your first client. He’s already laying down in your office to have his body cracked, but then you realize as you do it that his body is literally made of rubber and it’s impossible for you to work on him. When you tell him the news, he’s whining and tells you to try again😭 He’s all pouty so you decide to massage him and that put him out to sleep real quick. He went from sulking to sleeping. When he woke up, he commented about how good this was and truly he never felt this alive in a while.

Zoro

He would totally refuse at first and complain about how he doesn’t need it and how he only needs to rest a little (a good nap), and he will be fine. But then you actually try to convince him to do it, as you saw how much his body had to go through with his training, the battles, his poor sleep position… He finally agrees only after Chopper tells him how it can better his performance and make him feel more relaxed. He barely admits that it did in fact made him feel better, but now he jumps to the occasion whenever you propose it 🚶🏻‍♀️

Nami & Robin

The girls are so freaking happy especially Nami. She pretty much asks you for a session whenever she feels sore after working hard on maps or when she had to fight. She chats to you about life and tell you some gossips. She loves to make conversation and treat it a bit like a spa day.

Robin was down to try it, but she usually use her devil fruit if she feels sore somewhere and need to release some built up tension, because of stress or battles. Basically, she never needed someone for that, but after Nami told her how amazing you were, she gave it a try. She’s mostly silent and take this time to relax her body and empty her thoughts.

Usopp

He’s a bit scared at first because he heard some people talk about horror stories at the chiropractor. He heard some people got their bones cracked with no going back to normal or how some doctor were secretly psychopath 💀💀💀 To say the least, he really didn’t see the appeal to risk his life like this 😔 If you poke fun at his ego, he might do it just to prove it to you that he isn’t scared (his legs are shaking the moment he enters your office). He has difficulty relaxing which put you off , You have to wait for couple minutes, make him sips some relaxing tea. When it finally happens, he’s bragging about how cool it is and how everyone should do it🙄 there is legit nothing to be scared off pfff???

Sanji

I don’t know why, but I get the feel Sanji would somewhat be shy 😭 When you ask him if he wanna have a session to help with his stress, he would just look at you like 😳?? He would try to make analogy to food, like it’s a bit like how he hit(?) the meat before cooking it so it’s tender, but in that case it’s gonna make him relaxed. You kinda just stare and nod because whut 😭 He honestly could use it with all the cooking he does and the fights. He loved it but he got flustered a lot. He was red-shy when he left 🚶🏻‍♀️

Brook

He’s a skeleton.

Franky

Finally FRANKYYY, this man was BORN for this. He is so excited and is so talkative. He asks you when you started and why did it became your profession. He pretty much tell you to only focus on the back of his body because it’s less solid than the rest of his cyborg body. So you went in for a massage and he’s really vocal through it. As it ends, he tells you he’s happy you joined and he will be a regular which makes you laugh because you two are literally on the same boat lol 😭

[writingoddess1125]

Just a Quick Headcanon

Zoro as a New Parent

Based of Roronoa Koro a OOC of mine

Story Here <<

Support on Ko-Fi I'm poor!

• When Zoro learns about his son, He is both nervous and pleased to start as a father.

• He had experience with children had been a bit limited in truth but he had babysitted children around this young before so he figured the knowledge would be useful.

• A newborn baby was very different from a fully up and mobile one Zoro realized- but was fortunate to be able to experience this.

• It really wasnt-

• "You support the back of his head gently" You instruct as you watch Zoro awkwardly hold his 4 day old son with both hands. Clearly worried about hurting him or doing something wrong

"He's so small-" He whispered softly as if unsure if his voice could wake the child. It was too adorable.

He watched as Koro yawned softly and rubbed his little face with his little hands and snuggled hack for warmth- you practically saw Zoro's heart melt

• Koro is kuckily a very easy baby, maybe it was him being a newborn or just being Zoro's son but he wasn't a difficult boy.

• He rarely cried or fussed, would eat very well and slept often- Very Often.

• Koro and Zoro have a lot of similarities- but the one most prominent was that sleeping one-

• After a few days Zoro would introduce Koro to his crew with your blessing. You agree to two at a time of course and allowed it-

• Since Koro at this point had his eyes open he was looking around everywhere- Clearly wanting to see what was going on at all times.

• Zoro had Luffy and Chopper meet First. Luffy surprised and shocked to see that his First Mate had a son. You finding it really sweet to see the wonderment in the infamous Captian and a talking reindeer.

• "Woah! He looks just like you" Luffy says almost in shock as he holds Koro- The newborn staring confused at the smiling man

•Chopper also holding Koro and giggling excitedly as well as starting to tear up. "H-He's so cute!" Chopper said now fully crying while holding Koro who's bottom lip was starting to quiver as well.

• After this it went Nami and Usopp- Nami of course voicing how weird it was Zoro had a kid while Usopp promoted himself to the baby his status and making up stories to entertain. Koro however seemed to not be amused by any of them.

• Koro was starting to get irritated by being held when Robin and Franky came in. He did not like the cold hands of the robot and just stared at Zoro when Robin held him- Zoro already able to read his sons face which clearly said 'Make them leave me the hell alone-'

• And last was Sanji- Zoro was of course snide and rude to Sanji who happily returned the favor before letting the man hold his son. Much to your surprise however Koro seemed to just be staring hard at Sanji

• "Why is he looking at me that way?" Sanji questioned as Zoro scoffed-

"Cause he's a baby wai-" He sported as he heard a noise- you all did and everyone stared at Koro who was making a series of different cooing noises and squirming around as he stared at Sanji. He didn't seemed distressed at all only curious as he continued his gurgles and coos.

• "...I hate you-" Zoro said as he looked right at a very cocky Sanji, clearly Koro liking Sanji quite a bit.

• After this Zoro stayed in your village for a few weeks, letting his crew go ahead and come back for him later.

• With this Zoro takes time to help you raise your guys son. Allowing time for you to sleep inbetween feedings- helping with diapers and also helping you post partum.

• Truthfully he had been a God-Sent.. Calling doctors for you and talking you through your depressions and anxiety-

• The moment that damn near made you want to kiss him in joy was when he found out you had a clogged milk duct and he came in with a warm container of water with some Epsom salt.

• "You're a life saver-" You say when you see the container- Even though this should hurt your pride your tit hurt way worse-

• Zoro would stay by Koros side fir hours, Holding him and playing with the newborn. However does freak the fuck out when the embelical cord fell off.

• "It just falls off!?" He yells when he sees you set it to the side.

• Zoro adores his son and treats him as the most precious being on earth-

• It couldn't make you happier

Bonus!-

• Zoro will send a letter and a photo of his son to Mihawk. Truthfully he found what he did impulsive and didn't know why he did such a thing-

• When Mihawk gets the letter of the arrival of the new Roronoa he feels both surprised and a sense of pride. Keeping both and even showing Perona who squeals and jumps at seeing the cute baby.

• In less then a week a large crate filled with very expensive baby items arrives along with some stuffed toys that creep the hell out of you.

• The legendary Mihawk will even arrive himself to meet Koro- Zoro surprised that his teacher came and you terrified that a former Warlord was holding your son-

• Mihawk stares at Koro, holding the baby like an expert and silently staring. Koro doing the exact same and even scrunching his eyebrows as if mildly irritated that Mihawk was looking at him that way.

• The Warlord cracks a smile at this and nods in approval. Koro reaching for the Cross necklace to try and chew on which Mihawk easily slips away from the baby. "When you are older-" He stated calmly.

• "You have a strong son, I can see he will grow into someone great" Mihawk says calmly.

• "Sensei... I wanted to name you Godfather of my Son" Zoro said calmly, Mihawk looking surprised by this but nods non the less.

• "I will accept" He stated calmly and smiled softly at the boy. Clearly pleased to have a god-grandson to spoil.

[abdy-18]

Yor is very grateful to Loid and Anya because thanks to them she can now go out to more places to have fun, so when she found out that there was going to be a re-screening of the movie “Bambi” at the movie theater, she decided to return the favor and invite them to watch the movie.

Everything was going well until they had to leave the movie theater while Loid was carrying Anya because she started to cry inconsolably at the scene of Bambi's mother's death.

Yor's eyes become moist seeing Anya so sad and Loid so worried , she really was a fool, this was all her fault.

The death of the “real” Mrs. Forger must have devastated them so much to the point that the only way Loid and Anya can move on is to not mention her at all.

Poor Loid, he has no siblings, no parents and Franky seems to be his only close friend, before her, Franky was her husband's only support, and when he wasn't available, then Loid was alone (Sometimes she's curious about Anya's maternal family, but that's none of her business.).

So she had to have a conversation with Yuri in which she asked him to please not bother Loid by questioning him about his past.

“Please, Yuri, leave him alone. Loid is not a bad person, if he doesn't talk about his past or doesn't show pictures it's not because he's hiding things, it's because it hurts him and Anya, it's not nice to ask a widower about his past wife.”

She imagines Loid the first days after his wife passed away, having to take care of a 3/4 year old girl by himself and having to explain to her why her mom is not coming back, she understands, Yuri was around the same age when their mother died, and although she tried to stay strong, she could not keep her voice from cracking when she explained that “mom was very tired and fell asleep…forever.”

Yor had heard of people who after being widowed focus on work so they don't have to think about their loss, maybe, that's why Loid works so hard and comes home so late, deep down he must still miss his wife a lot, even more so considering that Anya looks nothing like Loid so he must look a lot like her.

And now here she was, a failed attempt at a wife that made his daughter cry.

After Anya calmed down they returned home and Loid and Yor read her a bedtime story.

Children must be very perceptive because Anya seemed to notice her distress and decided to try to reassure her by saying that “it's not mama's fault that Anya is sad” and that she's sorry she couldn't finish the movie because she was loving it and was having so much fun watching it.Anya is such a sweet girl, Yor could not help but hug her.

Loid and Anya (and Bond) have only been part of her life for a short time but Yor loves them and would do anything for them.

This was a mini idea I had for a one-shot but I don't know if I ever finished writing it so here it is 😊

I think Yor secretly must compare herself to (her idea of) the “real” Mrs. Forger, but obviously she would never say that to Loid for respect.

Anya is lucky that the lion king movie was not released until the 90s because if she sees the scene of Mufasa's death, she would cry uncontrollably because it would remind her of the future Bond showed her in which she found Loid's corpse.

damn, now I imagine Anya in this future telling Loid “papa, come on...you got to get up, we got to go home” just like Simba

[gatitties]

HEYYYY I HOPE LIFE IS GOING GOOD FOR U! Im here to ask for your amazing writing. I was wondering if you could make me a strawhats x teen! Regeneration! Reader.

The reader is very aggressive, a bit rash stubborn and quick to lash out alot. She LOVES battle and is literally the most reckless kid EVER. Her fighting style is extremely brutal and reckless and she really isnt careful with herself just because of her regeneration devil fruit. She could literally get a whole canon ball to the head and it would be a blood bath but she’d grow a new head in seconds and she’ll immediately join the battle casually. Her cold and rude behavior is a result of her past though, how she was used in a cruel way for her powers. But inside there is a kind kid and the crew starts to see that as they notice more and more things about her. How she smiles and acts so gently with little kids, how she helps out despite looking mad, how she buys things for them as a gift and just walks away before they can even say thank you and how she gets in front of a crewmate to take the hit because she knows she’ll just regenerate. She just doesn’t know how to express herself. I kinda base her off Sanemi from demon slayer. She loves everyone in her own way and has a heart full of love and care. Her body is full of scars too and she’s really strong and fit for her age. She’s quite clever as well, not just an angry brute. Sometimes the crew worries about her because of her recklessness, especially Chopper.

ANYWAY THATS ALL I ASK FOR! TY SM FOR ALL YOUR WRITING. PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!!

─Strawhats x teen!reader (Platonic)

─Summary: Your regenerative powers are great, but you need to stop being so careless or you'll give your teammates a heart attack.

─Warnings: none

Hope you're doing good too!! ty love <3

─ They had never met someone as careless as you, Luffy sometimes did stupid things due to his impulsiveness, Zoro also kept getting seriously injured, but you? You completely surpassed your companions.

─ The times you have scared Nami and Usopp to death by protecting them from an attack and taking more than a minute to get up are countless.

─ Franky finds your power totally cool, although he doesn't like you being so careless sometimes, he will be one of the ones who won't meddle or scold you for covering his back.

─ It's not like the others don't appreciate you putting their safety above your own, but they had methods to protect themselves, even if it's a fatal blow, Luffy, Sanji and Robin hate seeing your body destroyed even knowing that you will get better soon.

─ Chopper, poor stressed reindeer, you're going to make him go bald like an egyptian cat one day, your bravado will take him to the grave, all your scars bitterly remind him that he must attend to you as a priority despite having no wounds present.

─ You've lost count of how many times you've cut yourself with Zoro's swords because you grab them by the edge and not the handle, Sanji also has you banned from the kitchen just in case.

─ Brook laughs so much at your antics when you look like a dwarf being with rage when attacking your enemies that he swears he could die laughing, he pats you on the back saying that it's a joke, because he's already dead, you keep laughing at the same joke every time.

─ Jinbe gets a little anxious during battles when he sees you rush headlong into danger against the worst of enemies, he takes care to restrain you on many occasions, it is preferable that you avoid getting hurt despite your power.

─ Despite your rough or disinterested expression, you keep a sentimental personality deep inside you, you can stain your fists with blood, but you would never do it with the blood of innocent people according to your ideals.

─ Chopper and Nami appreciate that little soft side that you let show from time to time in a much less violent environment, you are still a teenager with a big heart and that is why they hate, like the rest, seeing how you break down and compose leaving those marks on your body.

[beefrobeefcal]

Sad Fish Blue Fish feat. Frankie & f!reader

Summary: Frankie's POV - what has he been up to while you rebuild your life?. Part 5 of There are Other Fish in the Sea

Pairing: Frankie, Ezra & Mouse | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 3,170

Content Warnings: frankie learning the hard way, frankie wallowing in misery, discussion of sobriety, post-break up blues, swearing, poor coping mechanisms, toxic masculinity, fragile male egos, bad decisions made by men, mentions of blood, therapy, mentions of intoxication

Author's Notes: Frankie is a fuckboi. Will is once again a big floppy donkey dink. News at 11.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 and @noxturnalpascal for brainstorming this with me, and to @bitchesuntitled for their eyes and love.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

It hadn’t been fair. None of it. The way he’d treated you or the way you abandoned him. You didn’t even give him a chance to apologize, to explain! The way you looked at him, wounded, hurt, furious, scared, as Benny led you out of your shared home for the last time, it broke him. 

But he never thought that was the end. How could it be? You were his and he was yours. His chest felt hollow. 

Frankie saw Will after Benny had broken his nose for trying to force you back home with him. He heard through the grapevine that you had moved in with Benny and were rebuilding your life - but how could you rebuild it without him? Why would you do that when the life you had together just needed some reinforcement? How could you just declare it over and decide he wasn’t a part of your future anymore?

It was Santi who suggested Frankie needed help. Confronting him in the garage as Frankie drank countless beers while attempting to fix a broken headlight on his truck. The calm way Santi approached him with sad eyes, telling him that he couldn’t stand to see his brother lose more and do nothing about it. Frankie didn’t think he could say no, not at that moment anyway. 

Santi was the one who took him to a treatment centre and was also the one to pick him up 30-days later where Frankie emerged, sober. His yearning to show you he could do better had fueled him, the remorse and regret always under the surface, ready to derail any progress he made, but he was proud to have completed the program. 

He wasn’t sure what to expect when he got out, but being told by Benny to stay away from you, that you didn’t need his bullshit in your life and you deserved a clean break from him, he wasn’t ready for. Frankie’s already fragile heart broke into pieces as someone he thought was his best friend so cruelly ripped away his chance at getting you to come back home. 

The days were bearable. He could get through them because he was always with someone, Santi having moved in with him to keep him company and on the straight and narrow. Frankie went to work, to AA, to his therapist, to the grocery store, to Will’s house… but the nights. He was warned by his counselor in rehab that the nights would be the worst, and he would need to work on his coping and communication to get through them in the beginning.

He would lay awake in your formerly shared bed, covered in the sheets you had bought at a Black Friday sale a few years back that you were so proud of what a deal you’d snagged them on. He would stare at the ceiling, counting the glow in the dark stars you’d put up there when he’d broken his leg and couldn’t go on a camping trip with the guys. He would hear the wind chime you’d made out of seashells you brought home from the beach outside the bedroom window. Santi had suggested making some small changes, slowly getting rid of the ghost of your presence around the house, but Frankie refused. He wasn’t ready to let go of what little he had left of you, even if it was slowly eroding away his heart and adding to that hollowed-out feeling in his chest.

There wasn’t an inch of this home that wasn’t laced with the memory of you, and more often than not, Frankie would fall asleep with his eyes flooded with tears, grieving over your absence.

*****

“... and that’s why letting go has to come from you, not from her.”

Frankie looked up from his tattered cuticles at that. He liked his therapist, Martin, but this session had been rough. He’d finally admitted that maybe he needed to let go but said that he needed you to do it first. AlthoughMartin’s response wasn’t entirely unexpected, he still didn’t like it.

“No. I need her to - “

“She did that when she left, man.” Martin said, sympathy and understanding written all over his face. “You’re the one still holding on.”

Frankie scoffed, and looked away, jaw clenched. “No, she left but I fixed - “

“Listen to what you’re say -”

“No!”, Frankie boomed, anger and hurt boiling over. “No! I fixed what needed fixing an-and she - “, he sucked back an angry sob as his emotions overtook. “- she shouldn’t… she can’t do - no! I love her!”

Martin put his notebook and pen on the side table, leaned forward while offering a box of kleenex, and rested his elbows on his knees. “I know you love her. But we talked about this: a relationship needs both people on board. If one leaves, the other has to respect that.”

Frankie huffed and threw box of kleenex on the floor, then flopped back in his seat, muttering a fuck! under his breath. He rubbed his hands on his face, feeling overwhelmed and scared. Scared? Scared. He was scared. The reality of you and him actually being done was fully setting in and it terrified him. 

Martin reached forward and put a hand on Frankie’s knee. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Frankie let out a shaky breath, letting the grief and anguish and acceptance wash over him. “It’s really done, isn’t it?”

Martin nodded. The remainder of the session was spent on how Frankie could move forward now that he had accepted the truth of it. 

*****

He sat in front of his laptop, rereading his email to you. He’d managed to get your consent via Benny via Santi to send you one as a way to communicate with you, and taking Martin’s advice, he’d written a ‘letting go’ message to you. 

Mouse,

I’m writing to tell you that as much as I love you, you cannot come back. I am working towards sobriety and the clarity I have received in this pursuit helped me realize that you are not good for me. 

I know I am not blameless, and I am sorry for any hurt I caused you. But I need you to understand how much pain you caused me. I made a lot of unhealthy choices with you and while I know you did things out of love, they were harmful to me. I need a clean break. 

I am letting go and you should, too. 

Yours, 

Frankie

There wasn’t a word of truth in that message but he hit send anyways. He didn’t feel any better afterwards, but he did start taking down the glow in the dark stars.

*****

Kimberly, the receptionist at the garage he worked at, made eyes at him while he spoke to a customer about the muffler in his car that needed replacement. As he tried to focus on the customer’s questions about how long it would take or how much it would cost, he couldn’t stop himself from throwing glances at her. 

That’s all it took for Frankie to take the next step in letting you go. 

Kimberly was nothing like you. She was quieter and more subdued, with Frankie having to pull conversations out of her. Things didn’t flow naturally and Frankie tried to think if this is how it was for you and him when you first started dating too. Part of him knew he shouldn’t be comparing everything she did to how he thought you would, but he couldn’t help it. Even the first time they fucked, it didn’t feel the same and that hollow part of his chest seemed to grow everytime he was intimate with Kimberly. 

Santi had badgered him to make his relationship ‘Instagram official’ with a selfie and he reluctantly took a selfie with her at one of Will’s barbeques, slapping on his smile for a few and kissing Kimberly’s cheek for a few more. Santi had the final say in which one he posted - along with the caption calling her ‘Princess’ - while Will scowled at Frankie. Will had made it known that he didn’t think Frankie was trying hard enough to get you back, and he had been overtly and loudly critical of him. 

Everytime Will saw Frankie near Kimberly, he would give her a dirty look and speak to Frankie as if Kimberly wasn’t there. Despite her mentioning it to him, Frankie would tell her that Will was just upset because you were his cousin and he was taking the breakup hard. He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t have the spine to stand up to Will and tell him to back off. 

After three months of dating, Kimberly was the one to break it off, telling Frankie that she couldn’t compete with a memory and she didn’t think he was ready for a relationship with her. 

He didn’t fight to keep her because he knew she was right.

*****

A few weeks later, Frankie was at home on the back porch drinking a diet coke with Santi. A contemplative silence lingered between them, and Frankie could tell that Santi was debating something. Before he could ask him what he was thinking about, Santi spoke softly.

“I don’t think you’ve let her go.”

A pause, then Frankie responded. “I haven’t.”

Santi nodded and took a drink. “Will thinks you should -”

Frankie groaned out a sigh. “Fuck Will.”

“I know, but he is not letting this go. He - hermano, Will is determined that you and Mouse get back together -”

“Jesus!”, Frankie huffed out. “Everyone has an opinion on what we should do but no one has even bothered to ask what I want!”

Santi’s brows furrowed as he looked at him. “Okay… so what do you want?”

“I want to move on. I want to do right by her and let her go. I also want her to come back, and be mine again. I really want to go back in time and not fuck all of this up. Most of all I want her to be happy and I want to be happy…”, he rambled out, then sat back in his chair, groaning. “I wish I didn’t send that stupid email.”

“What email?”

Frankie knew he had to tell someone about the email he’d sent you; he hadn’t even told his therapist Martin about it yet. He’d read and reread it after sending it and he knew you’d received it, but you hadn’t responded, and he couldn’t blame you. He shouldn’t have sent it without having someone else read it beforehand - they would have told him it was a shitty message to send, placing way too much blame on you. He felt the hot, sick feeling of shame and anxiety wash over his body, making him feel nauseous, every time he thought about it. 

Frankie pulled out his phone and handed it to Santi, the message he’d sent you on the screen. Santi read it and Frankie saw the disappointment cross his face as he read the email. 

“What the fuck, Frankie?!”

*****

It was Thursday morning, and Frankie was on lunch when his phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from Will was on his home screen reading:

Mouse alone this wknd. Benny camping.

Frankie was tired. His eyes read the words and he knew what this was: it was a direct order from his commanding officer. He sigh and responded with:

Affirmative.

Frankie’s reply was promptly reacted to with a thumb’s up. He knew Will meant well, knowing that Will knew deep down this is what Frankie truly wanted, but something about it made him feel uneasy. 

That evening, Frankie drove down towards Benny’s apartment building, debating if this really was a good idea. He was so lost in thought, he almost missed seeing you walk into the corner store. Your hair was styled differently but he recognized it was you by your jacket and the way you walked. He frantically crossed the oncoming lane to turn into a parking lot, looking for a spot.

Once parked, he had to take a minute to calm down before he went into the store. Frankie knew he couldn’t approach you shaky and out of breath; he needed to be calm and collected, and at that moment he was anything but. His feet seemed to be working independently of the rest of him as they walked right into the store and his heart beat hard against the inside of his rib cage as he finally found the aisle you were in. 

You hadn’t noticed him yet and you looked serene. Content and at peace, something he hadn’t seen in so long, and he felt like his hollowed-out chest was cracking open at the ribs, a greedy gaping maw wanting to devour and absorb you, never letting you go again. You were casually looking at the label of a bottle of olive oil and you were sublime in doing so. He didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat.

He regretted it as soon as he did it. The moment your eyes were on him, he watched your walls come up. That perfect casual beauty you carried when you didn’t know you were being watched was twisting into a withdrawn, defensive stare, squared directly at him. He watched you grow colder and closed off with each word that came out of him, like a brick wall slowly being reinforced. 

When you’d shoved your shopping basket into his chest and left the store in a hurry, he knew better than to chase you. He had watched you recede and he felt like he made a horrible mistake - he’d driven you away and lost you. He felt as if this was the final nail in the coffin. 

The sorrow and shame he felt began to morph into anger as he stormed out of the store and back to his truck. Will. This was Will’s fault. As he drove directly to Will’s house, his blind fury grew, all rationale leaving him as he slammed all blame solely on Will for this. 

Frankie barely parked his truck, leaving the driver’s side door open and the engine running, then barreled up to Will’s door. Before Will even had the door open all the way, Frankie shoved his way in, slamming Will against the wall. 

“YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

*****

It had taken Will a lot longer to subdue Frankie than he would have thought, but he’d eventually managed to do so, gradually gaining the upper hand and pinning the larger man facedown on the floor. 

“You need to calm the fuck down, Morales!”, he barked, leaning down as he restrained Frankie. 

He struggled against the hold he was under, but finally relented. As he relaxed his body, the overwhelming sadness that hid behind his anger came pouring forth. Will could do nothing but release Frankie and watch him break down in his hallway. 

*****

Word travels fast. Before the end of the weekend Frankie had received a scathing voicemail from Benny, warning him to never approach you again like that and Santi had texted him ‘wtf were you thinking?’ in all caps. Both had broached this without him telling them a thing, so clearly you had told Benny and then the news traveled on. Frankie stayed hidden away in his room, tail between his legs.

A few weeks later in the evening, Frankie answered the door after a violent assault was levied on his doorbell. It was Will, seemingly returning the favour, and he was very worked up.

“Mouse has a lot of fucking nerve!”, he bellowed as he stomped into the house. “She fucking told me - ME!! - that I was the stubborn one! She wouldn’t even listen to me!”

Frankie had stepped back, slightly concerned with the wild look in Will’s eyes. “What? Why did you go see her? What happen -”

“She is so fucking selfish!”

Frankie’s eyes widened at Will. Sure, you could be hard-headed but selfish? 

“She doesn’t get it! Mouse doesn’t get what she’s done!”

He tried to interrupt Will, not wanting to hear anything more. He shook his head, trying to grab Will by the shoulders. 

“No! Fish, she wrecked the family! All she had to do was forgive you- that’s it! Just accept that you made a fucking mistake and grow the fuck u-”

“WILL!!”, Frankie boomed, gripping his shoulders and harshly slamming him against the wall behind him. “STOP IT!”

Will’s chest heaved and his red face skewed further in rage. Frankie knew that it was ironic in the most hypocritical way that he was the one telling Will to stop but he needed to know what happened and if you were okay before he could let his own temper take over. Before he could get another word out though, Will shoved him off and stormed back out the door. Frankie could only watch as Will’s car screeched away from the curb and down the street. He quickly grabbed his phone and called Benny, begging under his breath for him to pick up.

A few rings then voicemail.

A few rings then voicemail again.

And again.

The sixth time he called, Benny finally picked up and snarled “What, Fish?!”

“Is- Ben, is she okay?”

Benny let out a deep sigh on the other end of the line followed by a harsh, “She’s fine.”

Frankie swallowed hard; he didn’t believe that she was fine. He sucked back a sharp breath and asked again, ‘Is. She. Okay?”

“She’s fine, Fish!” Benny huffed. “She left to see Ez - her new boyfr- person.”

Frankie froze. He could feel the prickles and tingles of anxiety creep over his skin as Benny all but confirmed that you’d moved on and were with someone else. He didn’t know how long he stood in his open doorway, staring at the street with his phone to his ear when Benny called out, “Fish? Fish? Frankie! Frankie, you there??”

Frankie nervously cleared his throat and realized he was shaking. “Y-yeah… I’m here. Thanks, Ben… I- uh.. I gotta go.”

And he hung up. 

Santi came back to the house that night to the kitchen and living room turned over, looking like they’d been robbed, and speckles of blood strewn throughout. He’s been warned by Benny that Frankie might be in rough shape, and he grew more worried as he called out for Frankie, looking for him throughout every room. He finally looked down the hallway and saw light coming from under his bedroom door. He feared the worst as he approached and opened it.

Frankie was sitting on the floor leaning up against his bed, sobbing quietly as he held the glow in the dark stars in his bloody hands. 

*****

A month or so later, Frankie stumbled getting up off the couch as there was a frantic knocking at the front door. 

“Jesus Christ!”, he hissed as he banged his knee on the side table in his haste. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”

He ripped the door open, expecting to see anyone or anything other than what he did. 

You. 

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[heartsburst]

like do i want to go back to university? no. do i want to do science? yes i miss it so bad i still make up practice questions for myself when i get bored and don't even have anything to practice science for. do i want to go back full time? absolutely not. do i want to go back part-time? idk. maybe? do i think i can balance work and school? ummm not sure. do i really really really miss science and doind chemistry labs? yes so bad it's literally so silly. do i have to redo first year physics if i go back and switch into chem...? yeah..... fuck. do i still need my academic writing requirement class? yeah.... FUCK. do i only have my first year calc and elective credits done if i switch to chemistry? ..... yeah. do i hate academia with a passion? yes 💯. but do i miss science??? do i really miss science? yes. i miss doing science so bad it makes me look stupid. do i do temperature conversions for fun when im bored bc i miss doing science? yes. my coworkers think this is very funny. does being in university shut my brain off? yes. will starting adhd meditation help that? goddamn i sure fucking hope so. does going back mean i get free counselling w/ my favourite counsellor again? yes 🥰. does going back mean i get to continue to be a part of the indigenous community on campus? yes and i need that community so bad honestly. do i want to move back to where i was going to university anyway? ABSOLUTELY I WILL DO EVERYTHING IN MY POWER TO MOVE BACK ASAP. do i have a plan or know what i want to do with my life anymore tho? no 😭. do i feel silly abt hating university but wanting to go back for science especially when i've been so adamant about not going back? yeahhhhh...

anyway, somebody get me in a science class asap istg. please.

me for basically the last six months like: i will NOT go to university my first year was terrible and i hated it and the thought of staying fills me with dread

me last week: i will do anything to get a better job EXCEPT go back to university

me today: idk guys i miss doing science maybe i should go back to university... for chemistry

[l-in-the-light]

The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition post-Punk Hazard (part 4)

This one will definitely live up to it's title. The "love is a hurricane" tale continues~

Luffy again showing interest in what Torao is doing. This is already like third time he shows his unusual interest in him (and it will happen a couple more times in this post as well). He really wants to know more about him. Despite the fact he's usually sleeping through backstories of his own crewmates, like Nami. His unusual interest isn't because he doubts Law, we already know he deeply believes him to be a good person. No, this scene exists purely to show us how big and special interest Luffy has for Law. Luffy is also a bit concerned here, we saw the switch happen in Punk Hazard, from now on Luffy will also worry back for Law.

Someone's trolling Luffy here and it's not Usopp, lol. I wonder if this is how Law was as an older brother to Lammy, telling her fake tales just for amusement. He's a teasing older brother type, isn't he? And now all of that is directed towards Luffy. That's so sweet.

Luffy, you were supposed to tell them before, why are you telling them only now?! Take things a bit more seriously!

Law though is so displeased. Not only a hand was slammed into his arm (he secretly liked it despite everything), he was told to get along (he doesn't want to!), and Luffy disappointed him for not sharing about the alliance before.

But let's stop at the "get along" complaint for a bit. Luffy, you goofhead, you didn't introduce Law to your crew?? (and please, don't you know Luffy, ofc Luffy didn't do it "offscreen", this is Luffy we're talking about! He doesn't do introductions! At all!) Poor Law doesn't know their names! How is he supposed to get along with them?? You think Law would ask them about their names? Definitely not! Can you even imagine Law asking about anyone's name?? (yeah, I can't either lol) So to save up his face, he would have to utilize all that info he gathered beforehand (he already knew who they were all the way back at Sabaody after all!).

So he recognized Robin, Nami, Zoro, Sanji, Chopper (and so is able to call them by their names, tho it's worth noting Sanji being a special case and referred to by his title), but he didn't apparently know about Brook, Franky or Usopp (because they got called Bone-ya, Robo-ya and Nose-ya instead of their names+ya). Brook got recruited in Thriller Bark so there wasn't any wanted poster for him back then in Sabaody, so that's understandable. There was one for Franky already, but before timeskip Franky looked completely different so Law didn't recognize him. And...

wait for it...

He didn't recognize Sniperking as Usopp that's why he became "Nose-ya". Yes, the joke lives on! LOL.

Oh Luffy, you really don't make Law's life easier for him, do you? And this way Law got exposed that he did research a bit about the Strawhats before, enough to memorize them. (I mean not like Bartolomeo, but... but! It kinda looks a bit like that here, doesn't it).

Law will get back at Luffy in Zou for that, no worries. Now you will never see the "Law didn't introduce his crew" in any other light from now on, haha. It was a payback. Luffy didn't care tho lol.

You don't have to believe me on that one, but you can't really deny it does sound suspiciously consistent, doesn't it? :3

Law: Why is everyone telling me that?

Also Sanji, we appreciate it, but you're a little bit late with that warning there lol.

To be honest, I think Law is actually perfectly aware of that, but at the same time he wouldn't mind to be called a friend anyway. He only minds it now because he wants to keep his distance and not form any attachments on his way. And doing poor job at it too.

Luffy looks so happy sitting there next to Law, he looks like he's having the best time in his life. He's probably having a lot of ideas of what to do together with Law now that they're friends in alliance. (many of which would not be met with Law's enthusiasm probably lol).

Luffy: Did you just say dinner will happen 5 times a day from now on??

Luffy's level of excitement here is absolutely stunning. And one more thing very important to note: remember how Luffy usually acts when someone yaps a lot? He might for example ask Nami about something difficult, but quickly loses interest with the answer. He often sleeps through explanations. But here? Law's got his full attention! The one who is actually napping through this is Brook, not Luffy. Luffy thinks Torao is cool and he *wants* to listen to him.

Law, where are you looking? Clearly at your favourite Mugiwara-ya grinning over there. His eyes are always tracking Luffy.

A moment later Luffy turns to see Kin and Zoro fight. Do you all think he noticed Law staring at him right there? You two need to stop being so cute. I can't even believe Oda actually drew a scene like that in shonen, even if he didn't make it obvious. I mean, look at it, Luffy's eyes are shining, I bet their eyes met. I told you all that One Piece is a story about love. Omg I'm disgusted with how this scene tugs on my heart right now. To be fair, I'm not even the first person to notice that Law is staring at Luffy there, I saw people pointing it out before.

Luffy: Hey look Law, we're famous!!

Law: But ofc we are, what do you mean?

Luffy is again trying to get any sort of reaction out of Law directed just for him (did he feel encouraged after he noticed Law staring at him the day before?). Luffy, please, stop, this is getting more and more embarrassing to watch you craving for Law's attention like this.

Law though always gives him that attention, curiously enough. There's not even one frame of Luffy calling out to him and Law just ignoring him. Which shouldn't be surprising, Law always seeks out Luffy as well, rarely with words, but at least with his stares.

In this regard, they're a really good match. Luffy wants to be pampered, and Law wants to pamper. I would usually say it's gross, but it's actually really heartwarming. They both get something out of it that they were both craving.

Law: Hey, am I not providing you with enough entertainment? Forget those boring fellas!

Someone's a bit jelly...

And Brook is again watching over them. God, I swear, it feels like he just *knows*.

Again, Luffy listening to Law talking. He would listen to him no matter what Law is saying, wouldn't he? Luffy is known for his terribly short attention span, but for Law he is capable of unusual feats.

(Also notice Law is always grabbing Caesar by his clothes, never in direct contact)

Time for the ransom call. I know that everyone is screaming there, but Law is suspiciously quiet, this is when he should be firm and confident, but instead he's just standing there. I think it means he was actually pretty anxious about this call, kinda taken aback (and it's not because of people screaming around, he had enough time to get used to that with the Strawhats, also usually it doesn't actually faze him). Luffy on the other hand is excited and thinks this is all super fun lol.

And then Luffy goes and takes over the call. Of course we all think he did it just because he's Luffy and that Law is displeased/angry here, but let's do uno reverse. I might turn your worldview upside down from this point on.

What if Luffy actually sensed Law's anxiety and decided he will help him? Luffy is after all really good at reading people's emotions, right? And of course he would want to help his beloved Torao.

Law looks displeased, but that's because of a sudden closeness. Those of you that followed my series on Law's fear of touch and closeness know what I mean. He can stand Luffy when he's close to him, but not out of a blue like that - he needs to brace himself first. That's why his first instinct here is to try to move away. Sure enough, right in the next moment we see Luffy holding the transponder, which means Law lets him do that actually. If he truly was so displeased and angry, he would have reacted faster to take it back or shouted at him.

Luffy's fuming here for no reason whatsover, Doflamingo didn't actually say anything bad to him yet (or at all really). Sure, Luffy got mad over Caesar, but the conversation already changed to something else, and Luffy is still showing an attitude. He's doing it for Law, isn't he.

Law meanwhile is just standing there, still not attempting to take the transponder back. He's not even trying or talking at all. This really doesn't support the idea of "he's so mad at Luffy for doing this", it actually seems to be the exact opposite: he's kinda overwhelmed here and was ever since Doflamingo picked up his call. Ofc he's also more and more distressed now, bracing himself mentally, because he knows he needs to do something and can't leave it all up to Luffy.

Law realized he needs to stop it, because Doflamingo is trying to bait Luffy, and everyone knows Luffy is weak to baits. In a way, stepping up just to prevent Luffy from getting into dangerous scenario, helped him overcome his own helplessness and anxiety. Luffy meanwhile indeed is losing it lol.

Let's look more closely to Law and Doflamingo's conversation here. Law is trying to make the talk very short, down to business and finish it off quickly. Doffy though stays confident and even tries to mock Law a little bit. It's almost like he's saying "Law, kid, you forgot to show me that my subordinate is fine, you need to step up your kidnapping game a little", he's kinda having this patronizing vibe here. "First step of a ransom call, remember? I taught you that myself".

Putting it all together can explain why Law is so anxious, he expected to hear Doflamingo all devastated, angry even after giving up warlord's title, instead Doflamingo is relaxed, mocking and confident, generally acting like he has the upper hand here. Law is worried, did he miss something, because this is not how it should look like, and he is right. Also he can't stand Doflamingo's confident tone, it's most likely making him feel weak, remembering the past. In their fight in Dressrosa Law will try his best to overcome this feeling by mocking Doflamingo back, but right here he was surprised and unprepared. He probably felt again like a kid, still part of Doflamingo's family, and Doffy's mocking tone like a mentor/parental figure scolding his clumsy subordinate truly added salt to the wound.

Law grits his teeth and continues, attempting to finish the call as soon as possible, full of bad feelings. And this is when Luffy snaps back to reality, gasping and reminding himself "I need to help Torao!" and so he does, by doing actually the best thing possible: cutting off the call.

This seems not-canon to you I bet, but I truly think Luffy tried to actually support Law here and it DID work in the end.

Of course Strawhats don't catch up to it and think Luffy just straightup ruined everything, but look at Law's reaction here. He's suddenly calm and does not blame Luffy for anything, in fact, he goes as far as to declare this is all fine. Would he really say something like that if he was truly angry? No, of course not, we have seen him angry everytime he truly believes his plan was just kicked out of the window by a Strawhat Luffy. This is simply not the case here.

Law is still looking pretty anxious there, probably thinking over multiple scenarios in his head. What did he miss? Why is Doflamingo so confident? This is crucial, after all it's not only about his own safety, but safety of Luffy and his crew.

Luffy meanwhile shows his interest in Law again, wanting to know about Law's adventures. He's probably trying to make Law think of something else instead of overworrying, put his mind off of it. Luffy really sticks with his resolve here of taking care of Law as well.

Also it's ultimately cute how Law is mechanically correcting Luffy on the name of the island (helpfully pointing out only the part he got wrong so it's a shorter word to remember for Luffy, awww), but he does it without even an exclamation mark there. He's not angry or irritated about it. In fact, it just shows he understands Luffy has problem with long and complicated words. He probably knows that's the reason he became "Torao" as well. He gets it, he accepts it, in fact he has no problem with it whatsoever.

Even when distressed and lost in his thoughts Law makes sure to still respond to Luffy when he asks something from him, and Luffy this time uses it to bring him out of his thoughts instead of just seeking attention.

Luffy: Yay, so if Torao has never before been to that island, it means we will have an adventure together! And not just one, there's no way I will let you leave me right afterwards. We're so gonna do more adventures! Dressrosa and Wano! Two adventures with Torao!

Law: This isn't an adventure, be serious!! Our lives are on the line!!

Luffy: Breakfast time!

Law: Breakfast time! *gasp* fuck!

Someone got caught up in someone else's pace. 1:0 for Luffy, he did manage to make Trafalgar Law take a break from his worrying.

Now to understand Law's exaggerated reaction here as something more than just a comedy moment we need to first elaborate a bit on the chapter's title that sets the tone between Doflamingo-Luffy-Law interactions and honestly spans through the whole of Dressrosa arc. This is chapter 700 titled "his pace", the next round chapter is 800 which wraps up Dressrosa. Chapters with round numbers tend to have a huge impact on the whole storyline happening (because Oda really loves his number games).

"Pace" from the title means someone dictating how fast the events are going or swaying things to move in their preferred fashion. Doflamingo does it in this snail talk by playing confident and trying to bait Luffy and undermine Law's confidence. Later he also showers his subordinates with compliments so they will do what he asks them to do - that's also setting pace by keeping everyone in line.

Law's pace in this chapter (and in whole of post-punk hazard transition) was him spiraling the things to move where he wants them, his first snail talk with Doffy was just Law having an overwhelming victory over him. Then through the span of one night things move very fast exactly towards the result Law wanted (Doflamingo resigning from warlord's position). Law usually doesn't use his power of controlling pace to make people do what he wants (unlike Doffy), that's not his style, they're just forced to stick for the ride, but he always leaves liberty in their own hands. For example, when he told Luffy to kidnap Caesar or assemble back Kinemon, he didn't tell them exactly step by step how they should do it: instead he left it to their judgement. In other words, he tells them what to do but not *how* to do stuff, he instead trusts in their ability to figure it out on their own.

And then we have Luffy, who selfishly chooses islands they visit and what enemies they're fighting, so he's also "setting the pace" for others. He controls it to a minimum as well like Law, he just makes sure to take care of the biggest danger himself and trusts the others to do whatever they want, he gives them freedom. His crew do their best out of their own free will to deserve Luffy's trust, every chess piece on the board moves according to what they believe is right, so Luffy's board isn't actually a game of one vs one, but instead of one versus many, because every player has as much liberty as Luffy has.

In this chapter Law lost to Doflamingo's pace, but restored himself, and lost to Luffy's pace and this time declared defeat. Doflamingo won against Law, almost won against Luffy, but then Luffy defeated him in one neat swipe. And why? Because Luffy actually wasn't playing alone, Law and Luffy supported each other there. So in the end Doflamingo lost to both of them.

You think Law didn't take a defeat against Luffy here? Then let's rewind back:

Remember this scene? Law was amused that Smoker would even think that Law can overpace Luffy (after all Luffy punched Caesar instead of kidnapping him and did a feast instead of leaving immediately), but he wasn't going to always allow Luffy to do that. Here he declares he's gonna set the pace and make Luffy follow his plan. He does it because it's neccessary or he won't be able to protect him, but also because of his petty pride or "saving up face", if you prefer that term here. He's not gonna just sit there and let Luffy do everything he wants and wait for him to finish off enemies. Law is throwing a challenge, he's gonna compete with Luffy in that regard.

But before they even reach Dressrosa Law already declares his defeat. Let me show you how: remember how he always loses his hat when he's losing?

Like here. Or in Dressrosa, or Winner Island.

Wait, where's his hat here? And this is the next frame after Law's big comical "gasp" moment, when he got dragged into Luffy's pace of "enough worrying, time for breakfast!". Yep, he knew he lost there, allowed himself to loosen up and took off his hat by himself as a sign of his defeat and Luffy's victory. But that's also because he's just a good mannered boy who knows you don't eat with your hat on.

It truly is a 1:0 for Luffy and Law is actually okay with that (losing to Luffy's pace is actually not a negative experience, because Luffy doesn't manipulate people with evil agenda in mind, like Doflamingo. He did it only because he wants Law to relax). And this sets up how the events went on in Dressrosa.

Also can I just point out that all it took for Luffy to sway him was to declare with a smile "Yay adventure with Law! Can't wait! And now breakfast!" and Law was already dragged into his pace? I mean... Law, Luffy didn't even do anything special. He was just basically himself there. Law's so smitten with him that it's all it took, honestly. Of course the support he got on that call from him also counted into that, but Law didn't declare defeat then yet, after all he also supported Luffy back in that call.

In later arcs Law will still attempt to be petty about this ongoing "competition", not wanting to leave it all up to Luffy, lol. He migth have lost once, but the war is ongoing! He's such a petty loser, I adore that flaw in him.

Luffy butting-in, making sure Kinemon doesn't just steal Law away for the Wano adventure. Hey, I'm gonna be part of that adventure as well!

Law's attempt to stop him there is really miserable. He can't bring himself up to deny Luffy when he sounds so happy, huh. My heart can't take it.

Law's already back to worrying again haha. His neverending journey of worrying when together with Luffy continues! Let it never end honestly.

He's also conflicted, because everytime Luffy acts so excited he thinks back to Lammy, as she was the exactly same energetic type of a person as Luffy haha.

i don't think Luffy gets it that this time around he's only making Law worry more and not less, awww.

That's all for now. Dressrosa will come up next (I might take a break from this series to answer some asks first :D). I hope you enjoyed seeing this chapter through different lens, it's fine if you still prefer it as just a comedy moment of Luffy acting like a complete menace and Law regretting his life choices. I think it's neat that the manga supports actually both interpretations, one on more casual level and the other more in-depth.

There is something I want to share about World Seeker Law's dlc, it's not really a spoiler, just one line that Law says that relates to the previous part of this series of posts (if you want to skip it then just don't read from now on! There's nothing more to this post afterwards).

This is what Law says in the game. I know that games are not considered 100% canon, but Oda DID work on both World Seeker and Odyssey, and honestly many lines and overall feeling of the game goes along with the canon. Law's complicated relation to closeness is definitely a part of this DLC, for example.

And here he says he doesn't mind what people actually call him! He never complained about "Torao" when Luffy called him this way, not even once. But he does make this one sour face when Nami does that as well. Makes one really think why is this such a special case for him, doesn't it? :D Again, he wants it to be a special name only from Luffy, doesn't he.

[jolalibrary]

vii. take care of me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut - p in v. reader has a bad day, soft romantic fucking.

word count: 4.7k

an: the biggest thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who read this before bake off and left me a bunch of comments that made me so excited, you almost had this chapter yesterday.

You had seemed downtrodden before he rocked up and ‘broke a rule’.

His pretence at forgetting all quickly seen through, as though he’s transparent. He had wanted to explain that he had only wanted to cheer you up, but you looked less in the mood for an apology than you did an explanation.

So he swallowed both.

From the middle of the week, he had suspected something was wrong. When he had finally managed to call you, you had sounded so close to tears, that he wondered whether he should drive back sooner.

Especially when you had barely laughed at a joke he made on one of his commutes back to the hotel—barely even answering when he asked it if was his movie choice or yours.

I don’t mind. You always mind. If I remember right, you have a real thing about me always pickin’ the movie, querida. Well, I don’t today, okay? You can pick—I—Frankie, I have to go.

When the end call tone flooded the bed of his truck, he’d strongly suspected that you’d fought your way off the phone with him so you could crumble. Cracking yourself open into a bunch of shards, all pressure-cooked by the weight of everything you take on, only to say you’re fine.

It’s why he had driven past your place the day before he had made plans to see you. Fighting with himself about getting out and going up to your door. Weighing up the options as to whether checking on you tonight or waiting for tomorrow would be best.

Then there was the fact he wasn’t sure if it was as your best friend or as someone who hopes for something more.

The lines blurred, practically erased. A speech is likely needed, but he’s as poor with words as he is with owning how he feels, so it’s easier to stuff them down—to drive away, wait.

It’s why he grabbed it to begin with. Why he’d been grabbing them since you put the darn rule in place anyway. A habit, a part of his routine seeing you—a thing he did to show you that you mattered, were important, cared for.

Which is why he’d wrestled with him again on whether to leave it in the car when he walked up to your front door or not.

“You broke a rule.”

You look glum, defeated. Whatever your working week had done to you, it had stolen more from you than you’d been able to—never mind willing to give.

And it fractured a part of him. Made his shoulders sink, his heart sinks—because nothing hurt him more than the look on your face. The one which should be full of smiles and twinkling eyes.

Kissing your cheek, he closes your front door behind him. “I think you’ll forgive me.”

You just snort. Momentarily smothering the sadness that had been there before he’d showed you the bottle—whatever had upset you buried, all of it being quickly hidden as you placed the wine down and picked up your water bottle.

It forces more confusion to swirl inside of him, more so as you begin to go back and forth with him on food, on what he wants to watch, and whether he wants to share a blanket or have his own.

He replies in his usual tone, even if his attention is split into equal parts—one part focused on the little things you do, the mannerisms you’re not aware to pretend. The other on the IKEA furniture he built, the memories pricking him, needling, making the zipper of his jeans suddenly feel uncomfortable over his cock.

“Work been okay?”

Your mouth falls open, all set to answer, but then something shifts in your eyes. A shadow—possibly—it dancing across the plain, suddenly all but desperate to thump its way out.

Then the words never come. Swallowing instead, discarding whatever you'd been about to say—pushing it back before any lingering parts of it are blinked away as you offer a nod.

“Yeah. Yours?” you answer, but your tone isn’t right.

It’s flat, without its usual infliction. There isn't any edge to your words, nor a tease or taunt, not even a Morales in sight. And, the smile you paint doesn’t quite reach the eyes.

It’s practically humming now, the fact something is wrong. It simmers, hanging around, whistling through the air.

Yet, you don’t break, don’t confess it all to him like you had once done with such ease. Instead, you just smear another smile on your face, nudging him, phone in hand as you mumble about food options and what he wants as you lead him to the sofa.

He knows on the surface, it looks the same—how the night is playing out. But it’s different. In all the ways he doesn’t want to put his finger on, and doesn’t want to acknowledge. Not as you order food, not as you chew the inside of your cheek as you wait for the order to be accepted.

Even less so when you mumble about the film, reaching for your remotes.

It's then he decides what he wants to do is take the remote from your hand as soon as you pick it up. Frankie wants to hold your fingers in his, even place a kiss on your wrist. He wants to place two fingers under your chin, and ask you again to tell him what has happened—wanting to be let him in, be shared with.

He wants you close, and not like friends do. A need to have your head to his chest, his fingers sliding gentle strokes against your cheek and neck, offering comfort, providing it in plenty.

His own head turns the options over, planning it out, trying to guess what the various outcomes are. Which, by the time he reacts, instead of managing to grasp your hand, he knocks the remote from your hand with a clatter.

Ears burning, he feels your glare before he truly appreciates it. It ripples out over him before it’s blinked away—a momentary flood of fire licking at his skin.

In the oddest way, it’s at least reminiscent of the person he knows. The sharpness in your eyes is more a friend to him right now than the gnawing going on in his chest. Especially, while the rest of you is lost to whatever you’re trying to pretend doesn’t exist.

“What?”

It’s simple, one word.

Almost feels normal. It's all sharp and layered, just like it usually is. Followed by your body sinking into the array of cushions you decorate your sofa with as you pull up his pick, rolling your head to him—nail-picking at the battery cover on your remote.

And he wants to ask again—just like he always would have done.

Instead, Frankie places his hand on your knee, thumb and index swirling over the cloth-covered bone as you look at the television briefly, before flicking back to him.

In the silence, it’s louder—the whistling. It's suddenly accompanied by the noticeable noise of your brain whirring, your cogs turning.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, but secretly he's pleading, begging.

He watches as your teeth pick at your lip, snuggling yourself further into the couch—knee abutting his leg as you sigh. “It's... nothing. Can we... can we just watch the movie?”

“Hey, of course we can. Is…”

He can't ask.

Fearful of asking. A lump forms in his throat, sticking, thickening second by second as he flicks his eyes over you.

Before you can blink it away, he spots it again. The shift in your eyes.

This time instead of a shadow, they fill with water. They vanish any part of your truth that wished to escape in its drowning. Before he can poke and push, you blink it away as quickly as it had first arrived.

And it needles him, pricks at his skin and stabs into his chest, twisting and twisting and twisting—

“I just… wanted my best friend,” you mumble.

“That it?”

You seem to fight it, whatever it is inside of you, before you curl against his arm again, tugging your blanket up closer. “I really missed you this week, that's all.”

It’s been on his to-watch list for ages, and yet he’s one hour into it and he has no clue what is happening.

The pizza box is still half-open on the coffee table, your plate still remaining with picked-at food that you never really made any dent in, and he blames that as to why he doesn’t even know who the good guy is and who is bad.

Because all of the parts of his brain that usually begin working on undoing and arranging what he thinks will and is happening, are working in overdrive on you.

It's also stopping his heart from hammering even louder down your ear. Because, even if the two of you have cuddled before—lots of times—it's not been post the whole sleeping together thing.

And, it feels nice having you against him, normal, right.

He likes the way your fingers occasionally clutch him a little closer, head turned in the direction of the television and the movie he should be watching.

Instead, he's piecing together the puzzle you've thrown on the floor. The one without the box lid, so no image to compare it to. Trying to assess where you missing him, lines up with the way your bottom lip almost wobbled as you confessed it, as though it was a sin and not a virtue.

Frankie tries to line it up with the fact he knows whenever he's found a moment to himself, he’s texted you. The sea of other unread messages piling up, collecting.

It adds to the knowledge that all of the normal conversation he has with you, quickly derails, slipping into something foreign yet wonderful. Casual phone calls, divert into him with his hand around his cock, listening to you breathlessly say his name and that you wish he was there.

And that somewhere between collecting the sweet noises you make and those innocent-but-not-innocent moments, are the soft moments he has where you’re resting—where Frankie has realised, decided and accepted, that there is nowhere else he likes being.

Not a single place.

Because he wants this.

Frankie wants the calmer person he is when he's around you, the thoughts which are less intrusive. He likes that the rain barely bothers him when he has you in his arms, that he doesn’t even overthink, if anything he just plans. Considering things, turning them over, thinking of a future that begins to sketch itself out and colour itself in.

Something which has been doing so since the time in the car.

Your words rolling and rolling, stitching themselves to other phrases you’ve let slip, until he’s sewing things together to create a gallery, a museum of moments he loves admiring and replaying when the world goes silent.

That's when he notices the movie, the shit-show of a plan formed involving a helicopter, and the words roll from him without stopping.

"That would never fuckin' happen. Not—can you imagine, if I said to you—" and he rambles. Feels himself doing so. So comfortable and at ease more and more things just flow and fall from his lips.

Even when the scene changes in the movie, more bright light than the softer one from before, forcing him to blink—he is still detailing how inaccurate it is. Only slowing to nothing when he realises you’re looking up at him. Hanging on to every word as though he's a poet reading something beautiful.

He feels the way they tracing him then, lightly glazing over all his features as he slowly holds your stare.

Because it’s the kind of gaze he sees in the movies you make him watch. The lingering ones—a blend of both fiery and craving. It all peppered with yearning, and swirling in so much he suspects you don’t want to say.

“You’re going to miss the movie.”

Blinking, you smile. Feeling you flick your eyes from him to his mouth. “Am I?”

Your smile slides further into your cheek, and he can’t help but brush his thumb over it. A dire need to touch you, brush your soft skin and remind himself how you feel.

He doesn’t expect it, but he likes that you curl into his hand. It allows him to trace his fingers along your jaw, down the side of your neck. Half-expecting you to tell him to stop, that tonight isn’t about that.

You don’t.

Instead, your hand cups his against your cheek, staring at him, lit up by the flickering scenes neither of you are paying attention to.

Faintly, blooming out in the shimmer of your eyes, he thinks he sees it again—what he thinks is adoration. It mixing, blending, swirling with care, love…

“Thought you wanted your best friend?”

“I do,” you say, low, just above a whisper, “So, take care of me.”

A second passes as your words drip into the air.

So take care of me.

His eyes flick over you. Likely needing you to say it again, give permission, tell him you want this.

You do. Fuck you do.

Your heart hammering against your chest like a drum because of it. All unable to speak, fearful, fucking petrified, with how much you want him.

Because all you do is want him, and if you speak, you worry you won’t stop telling him that.

Let it fall, leak. Slip out and stain like oil on a sheet.

Because you know it's only normal to miss him this much for one reason, and one reason alone. It's the same reason why you want him, crave him, and feel so desperate for him that you can’t think or breathe. It is all-encompassing, looming, forever there in between the days you don't see him and the waiting on replies to texts.

It’s so close to your tongue, held back only by your teeth.

It could come out, could escape. So you keep your mouth clamped shut. It is better, easier, and less bothersome than telling him you’ve been counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until you could have your hands on him. Not for this, not because he makes you feel good and beautiful and wanted, but because you feel better. Happier. More you. You feel safe, like no bad work day could ever touch you.

“Querida…”

“I want y—”

The rest of your words are swallowed, stolen. Frankie seals his mouth over yours, barely needing a sentence, just enough.

And it’s searing, full of ache as his hands pull you close, your body singing, itching to come alive—has been since the scent of just him hit your nose.

The worst of days doesn’t matter when he’s around you, less so when his lips marry to yours, when he licks into your mouth, when he breathes you in, and you breathe him.

No one else has ever made you feel like he does.

Not the way your feet almost kick out when his message arrives, a smile gracing your mouth without control when he calls you.

Because he’s different, but then he always has been.

There's always been something, it thriving and growing, embedding vines you pretend are just because you're good friends. But you know, you do. It's hard not to.

Frankie saves you, oblivious to the silent plea for rescue—he just knows. He gets you. Understands every inch of you now, you're unsure how anyone else can ever read you as well. He's someone you could confidently rely on, knowing he’d never leave you alone, not even in the dark—forever a light, a way home.

You think you’re that for him too. Hope so anyway.

He moans your name. Kissing you like he never wishes to stop. He acts like he wants to drown in you, be overflowed by you, and fuck you want the same.

Mine. That’s what you want to say.

Instead, you bury it in a low moan when his mouth captures yours, tongue sliding past your teeth as his hands come to rest on your cheeks. Each touch softer, gentler—from the way he moves his fingers over your cheek, to the way he slides them over your jaw, landing on your neck.

Then, his mouth comes to your ear, breath dancing, all flooded with the flickering television—let’s go to your bed.

He doesn’t rip, he peels your layers off, leaving a trail leading right to your room. He smothers your body with his, his palm remaining flat to your spine, leading, hooking his fingers around the back of your neck as he steers you.

Careful, hermosa.

The consideration dripping from his lips like syrup, all adorned in affection, a taste you have to capture, spinning in his hold, hooking your arms around his neck as you pull him flush, close.

“Tell me you want me,” he hisses.

There's an edge that isn’t usually there but it’s pounding now, all sparkling and fucking shimmering.

You’re more sure of it when he lies you back on your sheets, his mouth exploring, taking his time, taking you to the edge with his mouth as you plead and plead—one hand sliding up over the softness of your stomach, as your back arches into him.

And you shudder, so close to your high—hips held down by his arm. “I want you, Frankie. Always want you. Want you inside of me.”

He pauses—cool air blowing over you as he flicks his eyes up from between your thighs, his skin flushes, a light beading of sweat at his hairline as he comes up onto his palms.

Watching him crawl up you, eyes enamoured, unable to look anywhere else even if they were commanded to. Because he’s more than a sight for sore eyes, he is the sight. He’s the best-looking thing you’ve ever fucking seen, clutching his face in your hands, feeling him drag the head of his cock through your slick walls, staring at you in waiting, like he couldn’t believe this is happening.

“Again,” he asks.

Taking your hand in his, he slots his fingers between yours, fitting, ever so perfectly, before he places your conjoined hands above your head. Eyes tracing up and down your frame, more so as you arch into him, hearing the breathed-out expletive as you wait for his stare to land.

“I want you.”

And, thankfully, Frankie doesn’t let you linger on it. Doesn’t allow you to hyper-focus on it, slowly sliding in, pushing in by inch until you’re full of just him—no more of him left that you can greedily take.

“Always take me so well, baby—“

“Frankie.”

You’re breathless. The air punched from your lungs—his hand remaining knotted in yours, grounding, your nails digging into his skin as his other hand finds a place on the back of your thigh, eyes dropping, all fixated on where the two of you are joined.

“Y'so good for me. Always so good for me,” he adds when his hips are flush with yours. “Take my cock so well.”

Letting his gaze return to you, you’re suddenly so grateful for the bedside lamp you’d left on hours ago because now you get to see him. Admire him, so much so, it makes your throat dry.

Able to watch his muscles contort when he moves, lips parting as he slowly cants his hips into yours, all deep strokes.

And, you know it’s still fucking, but it’s also not.

It’s a unique blend of need that feels right, and also wrong—lips messily finding yours, burying confessions as you eagerly swallow them.

Hoping your throat, lungs or stomach could begin to decipher them as you feel his hand slide down your wrist, and arm until it's cupping your face. His lips slide over your cheek, resting close to your ear, whispering compliments. Because he has to tell you that you’re gorgeous, he says; that you're always so stunning.

Each word that lands has more than an effect on you, as he stutters when you clench around him.

Mouth wrapped around an exclamation of his name as he slides out and sinks back into you.

Frankie has always felt big, but from this angle, like this—he’s somehow deeper, filling you more. He's in your soul. It all filthy and romantic and obscene, but it feels so good, makes heat bloom through your hips and up into your spine, it twisting, eroding the bad day, the bad week.

In a sense, he’s the perfect antidote. A person you trust, care for, lo—

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

Frankie’s hand slides back to grip yours, pressing it down—lightly against the pillow above you, before placing the other beside it. And he’s enveloped in part shadows and the light from the table, blessed in golden hues, giving just enough to see how wild his eyes are and how deep the brown in them goes, how blown his pupils are.

“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?”

You feel your cheeks warm, your ears—every bit of skin on show suddenly inflamed because of his words. His mouth lapping at your breasts, all arched into him, hips steadily meeting his.

“Always are, really.”

“Well. You’re handsome, Morales.”

It’s intentional, adding his surname. Taking the softness out of it, removing what you can, and adding barriers and throwing up walls.

He still sucks in a breath, eyes lingering on yours, fingers dropping to brush a line up and down your cheek as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you. You moan as the head of him keeps kissing that part deep inside you.

It’s different.

You know it; he likely does too. Thankful he slants his mouth over yours. Slowly rocking with you, thrusting into you as you murmur his name, it falling enriched in moans.

From the way you both kiss, to the way you keep an arm around his neck, desperate to keep as much of him against yours.

“You feel so good, Frankie.” Your fingers scratch at the base of his neck. “Always make me feel so full.”

Stuffed really. Packed in. Clenching around him, all tightening, purposefully wrapping your walls around him until he groans right into your ear. Each drag of his cock in and out feeling exquisite, perfect, amazing.

It’s never been like this with others, never been like this even with him. His fucked out face, the grunts and groans coming from deep within make your thighs unable to stop their twitching as fire floods up your spine and the way he plunges you in lust-filled brown.

And you clutch his face, feverish from him, quivering, shaking. Burying the words, “So close, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m close baby,” against his mouth.

Pressing each letter in, stamping it—ensuring he knows it’s him doing this to you. Making a mess of you. The only person you ever want to make a mess out of you.

It thumping inside of you, hammering—all balled up fists and desperation because you want to tell him. Shout it at him. Paint the walls in it as he paints yours in white.

“Need you, Frankie.”

It’s close to the truth. Barely an inch from it.

“I know, need you too. Need to feel you come around me, hermosa. I need it, please. Please give it to me. Let me feel—fuck—feel you coming around my cock.”

And you hear it, the way he pleads—as well as realise the double meaning. You in the car, whispering words so close to the ones he’s spilling now.

“I will if you stay.”

He doesn’t still, but he does jolt. A hesitation in his pistoning.

Then he drops to his elbows around your face, cradling you, caging you in, as he kisses you—sloppily, messily, sweetly. It’s soft, but also full of heavy moans he wishes to force down your throat. It’s indulgent, a thing you never thought you’d have so now you take as much of it as you can get.

“Course I’ll stay. Never—fuck—anywhere I want to be but here, baby. Nowhere else.”

His eyes fix on you, digging the words in.

And, even if you knew it before, you realise how under your skin he is. How he’s woven in around tendons and ligaments, found a home, left marks against your bones you never want to rid.

You’re sure it’s that and not the words which make everything else mute.

Even if it’s all you can hear. Not the television in the other room, not the headboard clattering against the wall, not the sounds you’re making each time he drags his cock through your walls.

Just his words. Whatever he blesses you in. Your thoughts are all incoherent other than that. All shaky, practically vibrating; all gasping and torturous heavy heat, all unable to breathe and yet never wanting any of this to stop.

His hand slides around your thigh, pulling on your knee, bringing it closer as his grip almost grows bruising on you. He’s deep. Fucking into you so hard, hearing the concoction of his hisses, gasps and moans, before his mouth lands back on yours.

It’s overwhelming. The height you’ve reached, the way your mouth is only able to say his name as you watch him lick his thumb and distinctly feel it slide between the two of you. Finding it. Barely struggling to press the pad of it to your bundle of nerves before you lock up, the knot tightening, almost ripping inside of you.

It fraying from how much you’re fighting it, so close to bursting—

Then he draws quicker circles, all persistent, expertly, and you snap.

It surging, all white-hot, all blistering and mind-melting. You become both light and heavy all at once, your nails finding purpose in his side and your sheets, twisting, knotting to root yourself in this, in him—in how much you fucking love him.

“Fuck, querida—that’s it.”

You can’t respond, can’t even think up a response, but you do yank his mouth to yours. Pressing those three words there, laying them down, as well as thanking him, over and over until you slide your mouth against his cheek.

“Be good for me now, Frankie.”

His eyes flick to you, all ablaze and engulfed in want. And so you nod, knowing he can see it, feel it.

“Look so good, baby,” you add.

The noise is strained that comes from him, all sucked in breath. Then, his hips stammer, convulsing, all strangled, tightly entangled in a mess of your name and fuck.

And you kiss him.

Happily licking into his mouth to taste how delicious his moan is.

You try to fight the way your heart drops when you return from using the bathroom. Biting the inside of your mouth as you see the bed empty, sheets a mess, your throat swallowing back whatever sob wishes to escape.

Because the edges of your happiness crumble, your arm wrapping around the other, bottom lip almost wobbling.

That is, until you feel his hand on your lower back. Your head turns quickly, seeing him there. All hair-wild, and soft smile.

“Water, baby?”

Smiling, you thank him, taking several sips before handing it back to him, watching him do the same. Studying the way his throat bobs as he does, the faint marks of your mouth still lingering there on his skin.

“C’mon,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “Let’s get in bed.”

“Oh, but the—“

“I’ve sorted it. Turned it off—folded the blanket, put the plates in water.” His hand wraps itself around yours. “So, let’s sleep.”

All you can muster is an okay. It leaves soft, slightly webbed at the edges from the way it catches on the growing lump in your throat.

It isn’t until you’re curled against him,

“Is this okay?” you whisper.

He lets out a laugh, little and breathy. “More than okay, hermosa.”

Guiding your leg to hook over his. Keeping his body flush as the two of you cuddle. His thumb swipes across your cheek, forehead close to yours as his fingers fan out over your hip, and he presses a kiss to the space between your brows.

You’re pretty sure your heart just tripled in size.

And those three words, the ones which have amassed into a chunk in your chest have suddenly begun pulsing all on their own—a beat completely separate, you find, to the one which pumps blood around your body.

CHAPTER EIGHT ->