#i never post on it just keep up with friends
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You Were My Sunshine
Summary: Once a year you disappear for a whole day. Nobody knows where you go or what you do, but the team has learned to let you have your privacy. This year though, Bucky's curiosity gets the better of him and he follows you.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of death. Grief. Some angst. Fluff. No mentions of Y/N.
Word Count: 3K
A/N: I realize this is a little heavy and you absolutely don't need to read it. This one's mostly for me, but I thought why not post it and let Bucky comfort other people, if you need it. As always, my inbox is always open if you want to even just chat. I hope someone likes this. Also, I promise the requests are coming, a little slowly but they're coming. I'm on vacation for two weeks so I'll spend the time writing, probably.
Masterlist
“Have a good day.” Steve calls after you as you pass the kitchen.
You stop in front of the door to smile at Steve and wave at the team as they all have breakfast together before you keep making your way to the elevator that will take you to the parking garage.
“So, we’re really just accepting this?” Bucky asks the team when the elevators close behind you and he’s sure you can’t hear him.
“Yes, Buck.” Steve says firmly.
“But-” Bucky’s protests are cut off by Tony.
“She’s entitled to her privacy.” He says firmly. “Just let it go, Frosty.”
Bucky ignores the nickname and looks around the team, searching for anyone that might have his back, but nobody else seems to be too invested in your day. Bucky gets up with a huff and makes his way to the training room, resigned that he has to let you be.
You’ve always been an open person, you’re always there for everybody that needs you and you’re not afraid to talk about anything with anybody.
Your life is an open book.
Which is precisely why it drives Bucky crazy that, once a year, you disappear for an entire day and nobody knows where you go or what you do.
You disable all your communication devices, the tracking in your car and you don’t use credit cards anywhere.
It’s like you cease to exist for a day, leaving no trace that you were anywhere.
At least that’s how the team sees it.
They’ve all tried to figure out where you go, but that’s the only subject that you never talk about and, every time anyone asks you about it, your answer is always the same:
Don’t worry about it.
After so many years, the whole team has decided to listen to you and stopped worrying about it.
Everyone except Bucky.
It’s not like you’re that close with him, but he considers you his friend and he trusts you, so it irks him that you have this huge secret that nobody knows anything about.
Needless to say, he worries about it a lot.
That’s why right now he finds himself tip toeing down to the garage. He sees you get into your car and drive away and, without even thinking about it, he jumps on his bike and follows you.
He knows this is wrong, he knows he shouldn’t follow you, that you’re allowed to have your secrets. But he can’t help himself when it comes to you. You make him lose control, you make him go insane.
He just needs you. to know.
So he follows you, as discreetly as only a trained assassin knows how. He follows you into the city and stops a few cars away when you park in front of a secondhand bookstore. Bucky knows that shop all too well, it’s one of his favorite places to visit when he’s in the city.
He waits until you disappear behind a shelf before going in, watching you as you browse the books. It looks to Bucky like you’re looking for a particular book, when you find it, he can see your face lighting up.
You turn the book to look at the back cover and Bucky can read the title very clearly. ‘Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince’, one of your favorite books. Bucky knows that because he’s talked about it with you for hours, along with all the other books of the series and the Lord of the Rings books, Bucky’s favorites.
You chat amicably with the older guy that owns the shop while you pay for your book and then leave, getting back into your car with Bucky still on your tail.
Next you go to a small bakery and buy a coffee and a cupcake. Thankfully for Bucky you’re too distracted by talking with the nice, old lady that owns the place to notice him buying his own coffee.
He follows you again as you cross the street to the park in front of the bakery and walk until you find a secluded spot. You sit down against a tree and continue peacefully reading your book under the summer sun while sipping your iced coffee.
Bucky sits on a bench nearby where he has a visual on you, but you can’t really see him unless you were really looking for him. But you’re so engrossed in reading that Bucky’s sure he could sit next to you and you wouldn’t even realize it.
He knows you get like that when you’re reading something that captures your attention, and the Harry Potter books always do, no matter how many times you’ve read them already.
Bucky always thought you looked so cute while reading. You make no attempt to hide your reactions and it amuses him. So he spends the next few hours just watching you read, watching your beautiful face shining in the sunlight as you frown and snort and laugh and pout as your eyes dart around the pages.
It’s actually relaxing, he thinks to himself. Is this what you do every year? Take a whole day just to read without the chaos of the Compound and nobody to bother you?
But why would you be so secretive about this? Reading for hours with a cup of coffee is something you’d done countless times in your room, on the roof, in the backyard of the Compound or even in the common room, never really bothered by the noise the team makes when you’re so into the words you’re reading.
So why do it in secret?
After a few hours, around lunch time, you finally come out of the book’s trance and gather your things before getting up.
Bucky frowns when you don’t get back into your car and follows you as you walk to a small family owned Italian restaurant that Bucky’s never been to but always wanted to try. He discreetly follows you in and takes a table in the back where you can’t see him.
He watches you interact with the owner, the waiter and even the cook comes out to talk to you. It’s clear that they all know you and it seems to Bucky like you’re pretty close to them even though he’s never even heard you mention this place before. When you’re done eating, Bucky sees you playfully fight with the owner that doesn’t want to let you pay so you leave a generous tip that amounts to more than your check is and the owner chuckles to himself when you wink as you walk out.
After lunch, which Bucky has to admit was pretty good, he follows you to a flower shop a couple of doors down and he’s surprised to see the owner greeting you like old friends. It looks like she was already anticipating your arrival, a bouquet of blue roses already on the counter and ready to go when you arrive. You chat with the older woman for a few minutes before paying and leaving the flower shop to go to your car.
It’s clear to Bucky by now that you obviously have a routine on your secret day, and everyone you see on this day knows it.
So why don’t the Avengers?
You looked so comfortable with all the people you’ve met today, Bucky can’t help but think that maybe you don’t feel like you belong on the team.
You drive until you arrive at your destination and Bucky is both surprised and confused when you park in the parking lot of a cemetery, get out of your car and enter it.
He subtly follows you in, watching you walk past a few graves and it looks to him like you know your way around by how effortlessly you walk without needing to check the names, stopping at one almost at the end of the row you were in while Bucky keeps his distance, always making sure to stay out of sight.
He sees you take a deep breath before kneeling in front of the grave and putting down the bouquet of flowers in front of it.
“Hi, mom…” You wipe the dirt off the tombstone and tidy the flowers in front of it with what Bucky’s sure it’s a forced smile. “Happy birthday.”
You take out the cupcake you bought that Bucky now realizes you hadn’t eaten yet and he sees you put a small red birthday candle on it and light it, then you just look at it for a few seconds before you sigh and blow it out.
“So…” You say quietly, looking back at the tombstone and Bucky can see a tear falling down your cheek.
A piece of Bucky's heart breaks seeing you so vulnerable and hurting like this, but he stays put no matter how much he wants to be at your side right now.
Bucky stands there in complete silence, hearing everything you say, hanging on to every word. He hears you talk about everything that happened in the past year, he listens to you talk about missions and parties and holidays. He hears you talk about the whole team and his heart flutters a little when you mention his name too.
You talk for a while and, after he assumes you run out of new things to say, he sees you taking out the book you just bought today.
“So, this year we finally got to the half-blood prince.” You say with a small smile. “It’s our favorite, hadn’t read it in a while.”
Bucky sees you open it and go to the page you left the bookmark in.
“It took me longer than I thought to find your favorite quote, I have to admit.” You say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 400 pages in, don’t judge me.”
Bucky chuckles quietly at your playfulness, even in this situation. He can’t help but find you adorable.
“It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.” You read the quote before closing the book and looking back at the grave. “That’s what you told me when I was scared of the dark…” You say quietly with a smile.
“And that’s what you told me before you…” You trail off, not being able to finish your sentence as tears start streaming down your cheeks but Bucky has a pretty good idea where you were going.
That's what she told you before she died, so you wouldn't be scared.
He’s more than surprised that he didn’t know your mother died, and he’s pretty sure the rest of the team doesn’t know either.
Admittedly, families are a very touchy subject for the Avengers.
But Bucky’s even more surprised to see you breaking down, something you’ve never done before. You’re cheery, you’re bubbly, you’re everyone’s little ray of sunshine.
And it breaks Bucky’s heart to know you’ve been falling apart when you’re by yourself all these years.
“I’m sorry I only come here once a year, I just…” You start, so quietly that Bucky’s glad he has enhanced hearing otherwise he's sure he wouldn't be able to hear you. “I miss you so much and I can’t… I can’t bear this.”
He sees you running your fingers gently over the tombstone as you take a deep, shaky breath, but you can’t stop crying.
“I’m trying to be the person you loved…” You say after a moment of silence. “Your little ray of sunshine.” You chuckle softly through the tears.
It makes sense to Bucky now why you always try to be there for everyone else. It’s how you’ve always been, apparently. Always making sure no one feels alone because deep down you feel the most alone, and you don’t want anyone else to feel that way.
You are my sunshine
Bucky’s thoughts get interrupted when he hears you quietly starting to sing.
My only sunshine
Bucky knows this song. It’s a lullaby that he’s heard you sing once before.
Clint’s family visited him at the Compound and you offered to watch his kids so he and his wife could have a date night.
You probably didn’t realize he heard you, you probably thought you were alone and it’s not like he was spying on you. He just happened to pass by when you were in Clint’s room, trying to get the three kids to sleep by singing to them.
You make me happy, when skies are gray
You take a breath before continuing but your voice wavers a little.
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you
Bucky can see you’re having trouble getting the words out, your voice almost breaking.
Please don’t take… My sunshine… Away
Before you can even get the last word out, you break down completely, burying your face in your hands while sobbing.
Bucky feels his heart break as he takes in your pain. He wishes there was some clear and simple solution to making this all better for you, but there's always been so much he doesn't understand about complex emotions like these.
Right now, as he's watching how broken you are, though, he knows that he doesn't even care about understanding. He just wants to comfort you, to try and make it better...
Bucky comes to rest beside you, he kneels down to your level and places his hand gently on your shoulder. “Hey…” He says quietly.
His presence startles you and you go into defense mode, taking his hand on your shoulder and bending it, then using your grip on his arm to push him face down on the ground.
Bucky didn’t expect you to react so quickly and aggressively which makes it easier for you to catch him off-guard and pin him down.
“Goddammit, Bucky!” You say after you finally recognize him and let him go, getting up and scrambling back to put some distance between you and him while breathing heavily.
For a moment, Bucky is a little stunned. It's rare that anyone is able to get the jump on him like that. But then he snaps back to reality. He lets you make your distance while getting back to his feet and stands a few feet away from you.
“Did you fucking follow me?!” Your sadness is quickly forgotten and replaced with anger.
“I…” Bucky doesn’t know what to say. He knows he’s in the wrong here and he has no defense for himself when he knowingly violated your privacy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“You didn’t what?!” You snap at him. “You didn’t understand what the meaning of privacy is?!”
Bucky doesn’t know what to say, he’s never seen you this angry at anyone that’s not an enemy and surely never at him.
“I’m sorry, okay?” He says quickly. “I’m sorry, I was just curious, I didn’t think this would be it, I thought…”
“You thought what?” You say when he trails off, clearly pissed as you cross your arms in front of your chest.
“I thought maybe you were a supervillain…” He jokes weakly, trying to make you laugh. “Or a stripper.”
His last word gets a surprised laugh out of you as you, fortunately, understand he’s just joking before you actually punch him in the face.
Bucky lets out a sigh of relief as he sees you laugh and then takes a tentative step towards you.
“I really am sorry…” He says quietly, reaching out to put his hand on your shoulder. “I know it was wrong of me to follow you, and I didn’t plan on bothering you at all, which doesn’t make what I did better,” He quickly adds when he sees you’re about to say something.
“But when I saw you crying, I just… I couldn’t help myself.” He trails his hand down your arm to your hand and takes it in his. “You’re always there for everybody, I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t let anybody be there for you.”
You look at him for a long moment, processing his words. Of course you know he’s right, you don’t let anybody be there for you, but you also never really believed anyone cared enough to.
But looking at Bucky right now, it feels like he really does want to be there for you...
So you let him.
You look back down at the grave, your hand still in his as you intertwine your fingers together.
“She died when I was 14.” You say quietly. “I only had her, so I was on my own after that…”
Bucky listens quietly, his eyes on your face as he sees the tears starting to gather in your eyeline again.
“A few years later, Natasha and Clint found me during a mission. They saw me knock out a dude that cornered me in an alley and they were impressed…” You have a faint smile at the memory although it’s clear you’re about to cry again. “They offered me a place in the SHIELD Academy and, after that, I don’t know… I wasn’t alone anymore.”
You look back at Bucky to find him looking at you intently, his gaze intent and unwavering.
“Doll…” He says quietly while cupping your face with his free hand as he sees you holding back tears. “It’s okay to be vulnerable in front of the people you care about. You taught me that.”
His gentle words, the way he softly strokes your cheek and the way he’s looking at you so lovingly, it’s all too much for you and can’t hold back your tears anymore.
With a broken sob, you bury your face in Bucky’s chest and hug him tightly, clinging to him while he wraps his arms around you and hugs you just as tight, kissing the top of your head before nuzzling his face against your hair.
In this moment, while holding you in his arms, Bucky realizes it’s not like you don’t feel like you belong with the Avengers.
This is just something you feel like you have to go through on your own because you’ve always had to.
And he’ll be damned if he lets you go through it alone ever again.
#bucky barnes#avengers x reader#bucky barnes x you#steve rogers#tony stark#avengers x platonic!reader#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes oneshot#marvel fanfiction#clint barton
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𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 !
✶ ꒱ this is what i perceive her as whenever i write for her, but feel free to imagine her as you please￨theme ib. @kausstar — @starher ! ￨ hc post ib. @nottsangel ! ᰔᩚ mwah!
☆ more versions: ( as a couple. nsfw vers. sfw vers. )
⟢ comes from money — a kook for sure, but unlike rafe, she is respectful to everyone she doesn’t taunt or belittle those who aren’t as well off as she is and she has friends from both sides of the island, which rafe ultimately hates.
⟢ definitely what some would describe as the ‘bitchy’ type but in all seriousness, she’s just the type that doesn’t hold her tongue whenever something’s bothering her, she’s open and honest about her feelings and doesn’t beat around the bush to spare people’s feelings, and will confront someone.
⟢ can see her as being a party girl too — she likes to drink but is definitely more of a cocktail than beer girly and she’s down to try lots of things, but she’s totally against hard drugs, which was something that her and rafe tend to fight about a lot.
⟢ like rafe, she’s definitely the jealous type — she trusts rafe with all her heart but the thought of another girl moving in on him drives her crazy and she definitely doesn’t try to hind the disrespect and utter disgust on her face whenever it happens.
⟢ absolutely wears his initials around her neck on a silver or gold necklace — rafe would’ve gotten it for her early on in their relationship and she’s just never taken it off, loving the sense of both pride and possesiveness that rafe has seeing it on her.
⟢ was definitely playing hard to get with rafe whenever they first met — she was interested from the start but played around with him and pretended she didn’t, which only made rafe want her more, which ultimately worked for her, since she ended up being his soon enough.
⟢ the more mature and responsible one out of the two — but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t let loose and have fun, because she definitely does!
⟢ very touchy with her man for sure — always has her hand holding his bicep or wrapped around him whenever they’re walking together, always has her hands on his face whenever she kisses him, or always touching or playing with his hair.
⟢ his family absolutely adored her from the moment they met her, she got along insanely well with his sisters, ward and rose thought she was good for rafe in the sense she would keep him out of trouble!
#( 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒔𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍 ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ. )#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron angst#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron moodboard#outer banks#outer banks moodboard#outer banks concepts#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron outer banks
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SMOKE SIGNALS ─ BAROU SHOUEI
𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Barou seems to have enough of your godawful dating life. What he doesn’t know is that you’ve reached your breaking point, too.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚: explicit content ﾉ 18+ ﾉ fem!afab!reader ﾉ friends to lovers ﾉ idiots in love ﾉ roommates AU ﾉ barou centric ﾉ soft love making bc he's a CLB duh ﾉ narration heavy ﾉ kinda mean to reader but it all means well ﾉ first time/virginity loss ﾉ dry humping ﾉ fingering ﾉ missionary ﾉ no beta we die like men
wc: 8.5k (longest smut fic i've written thus far whew)
a/n: hello friends i am back hehe trying out a new format :3 and also a standalone barou fic because wow i've always paired this guy w nagi sjakhdkajdfh pls give me more hair down barou im begging on my fuckin knees
“Promise me that you won’t get mad,” you peek around the door frame, head poking into Barou’s room.
“The hell did you do this time,” Barou tries to keep his voice casual, red eyes flickering from his computer monitor to your face, then back again. Frankly, he has no idea what you’re possibly referring to, but whenever you’re vague like this, it’s usually not a good thing.
Your brows knit together and you clench the sides of the door. “You gotta promise me, Shouei.”
It has to be something bad, at least in his mind, because you’re trying really hard to look convincing. He can make out the small fidgeting motions by just how hard your knuckles are gripping against the door frame. Barou exhales and pauses, and it’s for a long, rare moment. He’s always the type of guy to say whatever comes to mind, and it’s usually a whole bunch of unfiltered harsh truths and things that others don't want to hear. It’s rare that Barou is actually picking his words carefully and, of course, that catches your attention even more.
“Shouei…”
After a few seconds, Barou manages to narrow the possibilities down to three.
The first answer being the obvious choice: you’re planning to invite a bunch of your friends over for a last minute party. Your friends are loud, messy, and a bit too friendly towards him despite the numerous times he’s yelled at them. Whatever, he’s used to this by now. Afterall, he’s been living with you at this apartment for well over a year now—four years if he counts the amount of times you’ve crashed at his dorm during his time in high school and university.
The second outcome might be directly related to the second half: you’re moving out. Could it be a new job opportunity with better pay? Hell, he’s seen you hunched over and obsessively scrolling through multiple job posting sites these past few months that he’s had a feeling that the day will come sooner or later. But it wouldn’t be something that Barou could see himself getting frustrated over.
Which only leads to the third option: you’ve somehow brought home a stray animal and expect him to be okay with it—
“Okay, dude, you’re seriously starting to freak me out.”
Barou snorts and rolls his eyes. “Can’t promise if I don’t know what it is,” and motions at the empty space by the edge of his bed. “Whatever you brought back home, though, it’s a no. You know I have a cat allergy.”
“I wouldn’t bring an animal home without telling you! Plus, that’s such a lie because you had a cat growing up,” you flush brightly and glower. Needless to say, you end up shuffling past the door frame, into full view, and Barou quickly realizes what you’re referring to, and why you’re acting so agitated.
Breath quickly catches in Barou’s lungs. He averts his gaze, looks back, and clenches his jaw—all in a matter of seconds.
“You’re… dressed up,” he’s pretty sure his face is all contorted, because you’re suddenly acting meek again.
“Don’t give me that look,” your hands fly up and do a poor job covering your chest and exposed thighs.
A form fitting dress is the last thing he’d ever imagined you in, then again, you were never the type to actively show off your feminine outfits in front of him—lounging around in nothing but sweats and an oversized tee is a sight he’s more used to—until now.
“I don’t normally see you wearing stuff like this,” he tries to make the words casual and dismissive, though he’s very aware that he’s just admitted that he pays close attention to you. And, for whatever reason, he has the burning urge to tear himself away, before the tiny voice in his head starts taunting him to go even lower. “Why are you even showing me?”
“Y’know, I had an explanation to give you, but now you sound borderline pissed,” you begin to tip toe back behind the door frame, slowly.
“I always sound borderline pissed,” Barou adds. He’s paused his task at the desk, computer monitor on mute, and the room is exceptionally quiet, except for the low, hesitant creaks from the floor panels. After another moment of studying your face, he exhales and shakes his head. “Let me guess… a date?”
“Oh,” you look momentarily surprised, or maybe that’s just his imagination. You revert back almost immediately though. “How’d you figure it out so quickly?”
If it weren’t for those damn career boosting sites, the second most used apps would be those stupid dating ones.
Both of your parents work all the time, business partners even, so it’s been mainly the two of you left to your own devices at a young age. Barou didn’t have many friends growing up, outside of you and his sisters, if he can even count them.
You’re generally introverted by nature, but somehow you seem to attract people who seem to lack common boundaries and have a strange affinity to soccer. Of course, that includes him, your friends, and all the dates you try and bring back—Barou never lets them go past the shoe rack and, thankfully, your dates always seemed too afraid to object.
Your parents think that it’s a blessing of some sort. That he’s your personal guardian or a shitty guard dog to keep out unwanted men. Something about keeping you safe, another comment about being a good future son-in-law. Conversations with your relatives always tend to steer from topics of career goals, the amount of savings you have, to relationship status, and—ultimately—hey, Shouei’s available, right? Of course, you two don’t have that type of relationship.
Barou is observant, despite what others might think. Observant enough to know that you get uncomfortable when the idea of the two of you being together comes up. You tend to go quiet, then flustered, all before storming off to your own room. Maybe that’s why you spend all your energy into those dating apps—a weird rebellion phase of sorts.
He wants to chastise you, hoping it’ll lead towards you finding another pastime that consists of less unimpressive dicks. Perhaps picking up more books would be well suited for you. Though, upon recent apartment cleanings, he’s stumbled upon plenty of your obscured romance novels. The type of novels that the covers consist of half naked men in cowboy attire with the classic damsel in distress in his arms—Barou doesn’t understand why anyone reads that stuff—piled up all on the living room coffee table.
Scolding you is definitely on top of his to-do list right about now, second to decluttering the fridge. Advising that you can’t blindly trust men on these shitty platforms because god knows what they lie about to get a person’s attention. But he has a feeling that you’ll brush him off, spouting an all too familiar speech that you’ve given him plenty of times before about not being a kid. It’s probably a dumb idea, and he knows that.
So, instead, he shrugs and ignores the anxious buzzing tugging at the back of his mind. “An educated guess.”
“Oh, hm,” you go quiet at that and he isn’t entirely sure why that makes him nervous. “Do I look weird?”
“What?”
You tilt your head. “You’re staring. Like deep in thought.”
So much for keeping his expression neutral.
“Hmph,” Barou snaps his gaze back to his monitor, observing you from its reflection.
His awareness of your dress comes in levels of recognition. First is material: even from the distance he’s sitting, he can tell with a quick eye that it’s from some sort of designer brand. The silk fabric clings to your figure as if it was made for you, worshiping every curve and kissing your features perfectly. Second is how you chose to style it: the adjustments made to your chest is purposeful, making your cleavage the centerpiece while your neckline draws attention to it. Third is his own reaction to it: his mind races to the thought of how unfair everything suddenly feels.
“It’s nothing. It’s just—it’s different from the usual, that’s all.” An awkward beat and, “You don’t look weird.”
You lean back on your heels, body now coming back into view, and there’s a small grin. Looking closer, he sees that you’ve got your makeup and nails done, too.
“What? You’re coming at me for relationship advice now?” Barou asks, after a moment. “I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Your big mouth always has something to say,” you look at him with quirked brows.
He sighs airily. “Who cares, it’s not like you’ll listen,” then rolls his eyes. It’s a bit of an exaggeration, of course, but you’re quite literally one of the most stubborn people he’s ever come across.
Barou’s familiar with your on and off dating sprees before, and in the beginning he did loosely hand out some advice—even though most of the information came from all those dumb teen magazines he found in his sisters’ rooms. It’s almost like a damn script by how it plays out: obsess over a mediocre guy, go on a date or two, and be extremely disappointed when they don’t live up to your expectations.
It’s been about three months since your last date, and Barou doesn’t understand how this one might end up any different.
As if you’ve read his mind, you begin to explain, “We’ve been texting for a few days now. He seems super nice over video call, likes to cook, has a stable job—”
“Hate to break it to you, but that’s the bare minimum.”
“Shouei,” you grumble, “be nice.”
He feels his eyes narrow, lips pressing thin. “You planning to bring him back or something?” Barou can’t seem to mask the edge in his voice.
“If everything goes well, then yeah,” you look relatively proud of yourself. “Which is why I’m asking you to not scare him away—you’re capable of doing that, right?”
“It’s not gonna happen regardless,” the words roll out almost too naturally for both of your comfort, “something always goes wrong, anyways.”
Your lips press thin, weight shifting subtly between your feet. “Don’t be such a dick. I’m bringing a guy back this time.”
Barou doesn’t know what to say. What the fuck can he say? All he knows is that this is making him feel more annoyed than usual. You’ve got to be aware of that, right?
You two have fought before, of course. Nothing ever goes well when it deals with two stubborn individuals. Thankfully, none of the arguments have never escalated past mild inconveniences. Barou can’t seem to remember when’s the last time you’ve actually gotten angry, though. He imagines it being similar to his mom, or sisters, and it’s terrifying because you’re giving him that look—one where you’re a comment away from swatting everything off his desk.
His brows draw together for a moment, eyes squinting, before regaining his ground. He bites back his tongue. “Do what you want.”
“So, I take it that you’re not…?”
Barou scoffs, drumming his fingers against the desk. “Why would I be mad? I’m not in charge of you.”
It’s over a late dinner when Barou finally checks his messages. He sees a few notifications under your name, and he pauses. He doesn’t know why he’s hesitating, there’s a strange churning feeling in his stomach and suddenly he’s lost his appetite. Barou flips his phone down at the table before discarding his utensils, and the look Isagi gives him is a weird one.
“Everything alright there?”
“I’m not mad.”
Across from him, Isagi leans against the kitchen counter and laughs. “Didn’t say you were,” he picks at his dinner plate with a tilted head. “So, erm, why did you call me over here again? Something about a problem…? You still haven’t gotten to that part.”
“Everything’s fine. I’m fine. Not a damn problem around in this shithole. Fucking perfect around here,” he’s suddenly hot with anger.
Isagi replies to this with a vague handwave. “If I had to guess, someone’s out on a date, again, and you haven’t done much about it.”
Barou shoots him a scathing glare. Thinks of denying for a moment. Doesn’t. “Why bother asking if you already knew?”
Like him, Isagi is oddly extremely aware of everything and everyone. On and off the playing field. Which probably explains why he’s both the coach and fan favorite of the bunch. And more of a reason why Barou is stuck third in line for most sponsorships, right behind Itoshi Rin. Well, whatever, he was never a people’s pleaser to begin with. Though, it is nice having him around to vent to—if you count offering to cook dinner in tense silence while going over sporting logistics—because Isagi Yoichi doesn’t judge. Unless your name is Kaiser, then that’s a whole different story.
A shrug. “Wanted to hear it from you, though that might’ve taken all night.” It’s not a tease.
No matter how rough and rugged Barou looks, he can’t wipe the knowing smile off of Isagi’s features.
“So,” Isagi continues, “how long before you miss out on your chance? A few months? Days? Right now?”
He lowers the volume on the TV and shoves another bite in. “Most likely never. If anything goes down south, that’ll be on me.”
“You’re thinking about this carefully,” Isagi observes, earning him another annoyed look. “It’s a good thing—you’re usually, uh, headstrong and tenacious most of the time.” It’s kinda a compliment, Barou thinks.
“We live together,” he emphasizes, “that’s different.”
“For how long, though? At this point it feels like you’re doing this to yourself.” The corners of Isagi’s lip raise, just a little. “Have you tried seeing if she likes you back?”
Barou scowls and absently fiddles with his hair, still a bit damp from the shower earlier. “What’s with that question? If I knew then I wouldn’t be inviting you over here, dumbass.”
A beat or two. He stares at the wall for a moment and cracks.
“If she liked me back then I doubt she’d be out right now with some random guy,” Barou hates how whiny his voice sounds. He’s not the type to openly complain, especially not with his feelings like this. With Isagi, however, it seems like he brings that side out of everyone. What a weirdo.
The younger male simply smiles. “Maybe look into her dating history, you might be able to figure out some patterns.”
“Like I’m some sort of masochist.”
“Well, you’re currently spending your Saturday evening watching football highlights with me, and I think that’s telling by itself.”
Barou doesn’t take the bait, doesn’t bother to say anything to that. He just shoves a spoonful of rice in his mouth and half-distractedly finishes watching a previous games’ highlight on the TV. A quarter way through, and he feels himself starting to drift off.
Isagi’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and that’s a surprising relief to Barou. The younger male lets out a small noise, sets his empty plate in the sink, letting water and soap soak it up for a bit, and fishes his phone out. A few seconds and he starts making his way towards the door, gym bag in hand.
“Rin’s asking to see me for something,” he mindlessly explains while slipping on his shoes. “Guess I’m gonna have to pass on keeping you company tonight, bud.” Isagi says this with a bit of playfulness, but he shoots him a look of sympathy when his hand reaches the knob.
It makes Barou flinch, badly. “Go home, dumbass.”
Once Isagi leaves the premises, he goes back to his own devices. Watching sporting highlights soon went stale, so he opted to watch a drama that you’ve been raving about a while back.
It has an interesting start. The main lead somehow paraglides her way into a foreign country and the tall, handsome, and stoic—your words, not his—military officer has to take care of her.
He remembers, when you first discovered the drama, the main actor was all you could talk about. Sure, he’s your typical standard silent, tough guy trope, but you were especially smitten over him.
“The way he looks after her, the yearning and the need, it’s just—” you would wave your body back and forth, at a loss for words.
The ending credits snaps him out of the small lull and, out of curiosity, Barou browses through his social apps and thumbs your handle into the search bar. You guys are mutual friends, so this shouldn’t feel weird. Though, if he’s being honest with himself, he really, really doesn’t care much for what other people do in their spare time. Looking at his own account, there’s only two posts and both of them are cringey gym mirror selfies from several years ago.
So Barou doesn’t really know what to expect when he looks through your recent story highlights.
There’s a picture of a fancy looking latte with an equally fancy looking cheese foam design on top. The guy’s out of the frame, but he can make out an arm with a decked out watch in the corner. Another picture and this time it features a set of flaky chocolate pastries on a square plate with red sauce paired on the side. The third picture makes Barou pause, because it’s a selfie of you and some guy. From appearance alone, the guy is conventionally attractive, but he also has an extremely punchable face. White collared button up shirt, except for the plain fact that it’s wild open and his damn chest hairs are poking out. He’s got his hands around your waist, his stubbled chin pressed extremely close to yours, looking into the camera as if you belonged to him.
He feels his head throbbing, almost full of cotton, and he shuts his phone off, tossing it onto the far end of the couch. Barou doesn’t bother to clean the dishes, at least not yet. He sets his dirty plate aside, letting it soak in the sink alongside with the other bowls. It’s not until after another hot, long shower that Barou starts stress cleaning the apartment.
And, yeah, vacuuming the living room and running the loud dishwasher at nearly midnight is pretty outrageous and, frankly, dramatic—even for someone like him. By the time he’s done destressing, the air wafts with lemon essential oils and a hint of antiseptic scent. Eventually, after everything, he crawls under the blankets and lies still for a long time before the hint of sleep catches up.
It’s one in the morning when he hears you coming home; heels wobbling against the wooden panels, faint mumbling with a drawl, and sounds of keys hitting the small trinket bowl by the front door. He thinks maybe he should go see you, but stops himself halfway. Barou doesn’t know what he’ll do, how he’ll react, if you come back with smeared lipstick stains on your face, or if you smell like musk— like some stupid, rich casanova’s cologne.
Barou’s just about to pull the covers back over his head when a noise from the living room jolts him wide awake. A loud clatter, body hitting a surface, and he snaps his attention away. And, luckily for him, you just smelled like straight alcohol.
“I should’ve never gone out, I should’ve just…” A beat, followed by a series of painful groans.
You’re definitely tipsy from whatever drink that’s in your system. From what Barou can tell, it was strong.
“Did you take anything else?” It’s a rhetorical question but he keeps his voice quiet, low, and observes you from the couch.
You’re half slumped over, limbs hanging all over the place and your trench coat is doing an awful job at covering up your promiscuous dress. Tired exhaustion plagues all over. Barou quickly covers you with a spare throw blanket on the side.
He tries to get you off the couch, as carefully as he can, and you nearly jump out of your skin from the proximity. Your eyes are glazed, mouth slightly dry and slack, and some of your makeup has smudged—whether it’s from the date or the excessive tossing and turning, Barou doesn’t really want to know. What he does know is that you’re close, now actively leaning into his touch, and your eyes meet, and he’s yet again faced with that strange fire rushing through him.
He swears under his breath, lifting you into his arms.
There’s a million things he wants to say, majority of them being half-ass insults and I told you so, but none of that seems appropriate. His face is only inches away from yours. Barou quickly realizes that his mouth has gone dry and his tongue feels heavy. His recent reactions towards you have been… confusing, to say the least.
You stir, hand shooting up to hold your head. “Is he gone?”
“Your shitty date?”
“Mhm,” your head droops to the side. “That asshole…”
He scoffs, and makes a mental note to personally beat up the guy who left you while you’re like this. “He’s not here.”
“Fuck, thank god,” your eyes hover on his neck. It catches him off-guard. You swallow, and a strange expression flicks across your face, a bit unreadable and different from your usual wasted self. “You were right, sorry.”
For a moment, he thinks he’s in a dream; that he’s still in university, still checking up on you in-between his classes and labs—out of courtesy from your family, and being on the receiving end whenever you get your hopes up.
He shuts his eyes and opens them.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
Barou hears every heavy thump that his heart makes as he carries you to your room. His eyes keep shifting all over your body, whether he means to or not. Most of it is out of concern, your face looks terribly dazed and you’re warm all over, even if you keep insisting that it was just one drink. You’ve never been a heavy drinker, no matter how many times you tried to train your lack of alcohol tolerance. He wonders if he should let you sleep in what you’re currently wearing but, after quick consideration, you’d probably feel extremely uncomfortable the next day.
You press into the warmth of his shoulder, against his neck, then exhale. “I’m a pretty shitty friend, aren’t I?”
“What?” Barou’s eyes flick down the hall, then back to you.
“Ugh,” you make a face. “You know what I mean. How I’m always so tunnel vision when it comes to shit like this…”
“Then just stop,” he feels his face tightening ever so slightly, the unfiltered words unclogging. “Everytime this happens. Why bother going through with it?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” You laugh a little, and it’s half bitterness, half joy—something a little broken and somehow Barou immediately understands.
He watches, almost morbidly, the way your eyes subtly linger on parts of his body for a moment, before sighing. A hesitant, unspoken conversation stuck in your throat, and all at once, Barou wants to scream.
But he doesn’t.
He feels flames crawling up the back of his neck when you snuggle closer into his arms. Thankfully, before he can further combust, he’s pushing his way into your dimmed bedroom.
Barou takes a careful glance around in the dark, noting the familiar scent of you, the numerous prints that hang from the eggshell colored walls, and the small pile of clothes on your desk chair. He’s only been in your room once before, but that was just to help you settle in, so he’s never really paid attention to your surroundings. Now, though, as he lays you on top of the mattress, he notices everything in this room just screams who you are, and he realizes that maybe he should’ve said his piece earlier to avoid all of this together.
The idea fizzles out when Barou feels you tugging loosely on his wrist before letting it fall against the mattress.
“Shouei,” you call out, reaching for his hand again.
He absolutely hates the way he instantly stops and holds you, cherishing the warmth of your skin. Your fingers shakily curl around his, and Barou can’t help but squeeze back. His heart is thundering against his chest, and he’s making it painfully obvious that his breathing is erratic.
After a moment, he clears his throat. “What are you doing?”
His blood has rushed so high to his head that it’s the only thing he can hear, clogging up in his veins and leaving him feeling like he has to cling onto you for dear life. Barou isn’t quite sure what’s happening here, still disbelieving at the way you’re batting your eyes at him, eyes brimming with tears and lips puckered.
“Stay with me, please,” you mumble.
Barou lets out an airy breath, and hears himself saying your name. He’s so confused by all the fucking emotions hitting him right now, and it doesn’t help the fact that his voice gets so soft and tender when he calls out for you. His hand twitches against yours.
This isn’t fair, this isn’t fair, this isn’t—
“You’re drunk,” he finally manages to respond.
His crimson eyes trace your face in the dark, and makes out the shine of wetness on your lips when they part. You lift your eyes, and they instantly hook him in. He resists the urge to lean forward. And, just as instantly, he wants to kneel down, close his eyes, and exist anywhere but this moment.
“I’m not,” you continue and tug him closer, forcing him to sit on the mattress. Your words come out more as hot breath. He definitely smells it but, if he’s being honest with himself, you’re usually not this desperate.
Needless to say, it’s still a concerning fact. “You’re not yourself.”
You squeeze harder, brows furrowed. “I know what I’m doing and what I want.”
Barou tears away from your mouth and glances back into your eyes, studying them closely. You’re still clamped onto his hand, and he knows you’re burning on edge, too. Undoubtedly, he’s half-mast in his pants, and he’s very aware of that, as you slowly rise up, eyeing him with an expression that can only be described as hunger.
“We’ll talk in the morning, idiot.”
“What’s your deal?”
I should be the one asking that.
Barou stares at you for a long moment, The silence is heavy, suffocating. The bed shifts, and in that second, that quiet desperate hope, becomes even more evident. His grip tightens, just a little, and there’s that building headache pulsing through his temple. He really shouldn’t be here, entertaining whatever this is. What he should be doing is sleeping, it’s midnight and, fuck, he has to go to practice tomorrow, but you…
“Are you even listening to me?”
“I am,” his voice is rough when he answers, words dripping with heavy caution. “Even if you aren’t wasted, you’re acting like a real piece of work, right now. None of this shit is funny.”
“I’m not trying to be—I’m being serious,” you reply, but your lips are trembling.
Barou’s stomach lurches and he swallows back a groan, not the pleasure kind. “What do you want me to do?”
Suddenly, you shift restlessly, as if taken aback. “Stay by my side.”
“I know that,” he breathes in, and out. “I asked if there’s anything you want me to do?”
The moonlight creeps past your curtains and coats you in various shades of silver. It’s then, Barou realizes, that he's afraid of what your answer might be. He’s taken care of you hundreds of times before, it’s become second nature for him to look after you, but now this feels foreign—almost daunting when you’re looking just as scared.
But, scared as you are, you lean forward, steadying your palms onto his broad shoulders. It burns his skin at contact, but he steels himself, watching your lips part slowly. Focusing—absolutely fucking focusing—on the way that they move and the damn syllables that come right after.
He feels like dying when the words finally register.
“Kiss me.”
Barou stills, pressing a palm against the mattress and clenches his jaw, running his tongue hard against his teeth. He opens his mouth to reply—and immediately snaps it shut. It’s when you make a small dip in the bed that he recovers, gears running over a hundred miles an hour in his mind. “You want that?”
“Don’t make me repeat it,” your eyes wander all over his face and the intensity almost burns his skin. “It’s embarrassing enough that I’m doing it like this…”
Barou stares in awe. His throat feels tight and his chest clenches uncomfortably. “Doing what?”
A frown erupts on your face and you’re visibly frustrated, more flustered. “Why are you choosing tonight to be a dense prick? Do you need me to spell it out for you? I’m confessing to you. I like you—god, this is so fucking stupid—I’ve liked you since grade school, throughout college, and now! The dates, the guys, none of them work out because they’re not you. Do you know how many times a guy is saying some shit and I’m sitting there thinking ‘Shouei wouldn’t say that’ or when I’m trying to find a guy that looks kinda like you, and even that’s fucking impossible—that’s how much you’re on my mind!”
Your confession—honesty—hangs in the air and Barou nearly chokes on it. You make a low, undignified sound, and press your back against the headboard, looking absolutely anywhere but him. Barou, on the other hand, hears nothing but pounding in his eardrums. He’s not sure if that’s his heartbeat, or yours. There’s a feeling of tight strings tugging at his chest again, a painful ache being left behind. After a moment, the bed creaks.
“Okay,” he breathes, and swallows around that awful lump in his throat.
“Okay?” your voice cracks embarrassingly. “I pour out my feelings and all you say is ‘okay’? This is worse than a rejection. Yoichi said the worst thing you could say is ‘no’ and—”
“Wait, that idiot knows about this?”
“That’s what you’re focused on? Ugh, forget it, I’ve said too much already!”
“Stop,” Barou’s face contorts into a heavy scowl, taking slight offense. “God, sometimes you ramble on so much that it’s hard to take everything at face value.”
He hesitantly presses a palm to your cheek and holds it there, watching your sudden stiff reaction. He shudders, slowly, before dusting the palm across your cheek, ears, hair, and settles it against the back of your head. He’s aware of his breathing, shaky and full of nerves. Barou moves closer until he can feel your breath fanning over his lips.
Before he can say anything else, you lean up and press your lips softly against his. They’re surprisingly soft, he realizes. There’s no heat to it, just a plush press of warmth, a little bit of pressure, and you’re silently swearing under your breath when you pull back.
“Oh god, was that dumb? Am I being stupid right now or what?” Your hands fly up, cradling your face. A muffled scream, then a groan. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what I was thinking! You—me, we were—argh!” Your body retracts back, knee pressing up against your chest as you begin to lean away from him, almost in disgust with yourself.
Barou begins to feel a strange surge in his stomach and gnaws the insides of his cheek. The unusual warmth comes back and, this time, it settles between his legs, but there’s more to that. It was a small, soft kiss—barely long enough to be classified as one. He watches you fidget more before snapping.
“Do you know how to fucking relax?” Barou adjusts his grip behind your head, tangles his fingers in your hair, and drags you back in for another.
This time, it’s lasting, a more proper kiss, and he feels you getting lost in it. Your hands fumble their way back onto his body, finding ground on his thighs and leaning forward into the heat. Barou makes sure that his grip in your hair isn’t too tight, but warm and full of affection, and it makes you moan quietly, mouth parting and allowing his tongue to swipe over your lips.
Hardly any words are exchanged while he kisses you, slowly becoming more frenzied, drowning in the wet heat, tongues curling and hands roaming. There’s a steady, painful throbbing eagerness between Barou’s legs, and he’s positive that you can feel it.
It’s overwhelmingly awkward and stupid, how worked up you both are from just a bit of kissing; from taking turns ghosting each other’s jaws and necks, to hands blindly groping and snaking under clothing to get a squeeze at bare skin. You lean up again, lips tracing the contours of his jaw, and shift a hand down, curling your fingers through his sweats and around his length. A light, breathy noise slips out of him and he feels you pulling away, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen from the heavy makeout session.
“I, um, take it that you like me back…?” You ask quietly, tugging Barou out of his trance.
He blinks, feeling the tips of his ears flushing with warmth. “You really know how to ruin the mood, don’t you?”
“I-I just need confirmation, stupid!”
“Maybe,” Barou confesses, his voice wavers just a little as he speaks. His body shifts with you in his arms, palms cupping both sides of your face. When you refuse to meet his eyes, he huffs. “Look at me. I wouldn’t do this to just anyone if I didn’t like them.”
You make a low, unpleasant noise. “So, you’ve done this with others? I don’t want to think about that.”
Barou’s chest tangles over itself again and, for a moment, being with you feels just a little less daunting. His posture stiffens, then goes lax in a quick second. He could honestly ask you the same thing, whether or not some of the men you’ve matched with have showered you in affection like this but, given your behavior, it seems like you’ve been hesitant and selective. If Barou’s being honest, he’s glad it’s that way.
“Then we don’t have to,” he surges forward, forcing his head down to catch your gaze before capturing your lips in surprise once more.
Eventually, he ends up hovering over you. You’re lying on the mattress, head semi-propped up against the pillows with half of his body weight on top of you—not too heavy, but not too comfortable. Barou’s vaguely aware of what this might lead to, with the look you’re giving him—with the look he’s giving you. He should really go to bed, or else he’s going to wake up with a migraine and a sore neck. But your cheek is nuzzled against his palm, he’s got his other hand running through your hair, soft and lazy, and he’s finding himself grinding against your lower half almost pathetically.
It’s impossible to put his thoughts into coherent sounds when your fingers work at his pants and manage to free his erection, springing it heavily against his stomach. Barou’s mind short-circuits, body jerking in reaction, with the slow, experimental pump of your fist around his aching cock. The look you’re currently giving him is mesmerizing, and it makes him feel as if he’s the most powerful person in the world.
He’s not sure how far you’re willing to go, especially since this feels like your first for everything. You adjust your hand around his length and let it run for a few more strokes. It feels foreign and electric at the same time, softer than his own hands that’s for sure. After you brush your thumb over his tip, smearing the pre, Barou immediately tries shielding himself from you, face buried in his shoulder, and swallows back a rumbling moan.
You pause, hand loosely wrapped around his base, frowning. “Is it bad? I’ll stop if…”
“No,” Barou clasps a hand over yours, squeezes, and sets a slow, firm pace. He shudders again when you adjust your position, hot breath fanning over his tip. “You don’t have to go down—”
“I want to,” you look at him with pleading eyes. “I want to make you feel good, Shouei.”
His mind goes through a whirlwind of possibilities, debating the urge to either run or dominate. Barou closes his eyes, breathing deeply in order to steady himself before he fully loses it. His cock twitches and your hand is clinging around him like a mold.
“Please,” you moan, a plea that’s both an invitation and a surrender, and it’s that damn voice that cuts through his brain fog.
You make a small noise of confusion when he pulls you back, and settles you flat against the mattress. Disappointment flicks across your face but disappears as quickly as it came when his palms make contact with your legs. He carefully watches you squirm, thighs pressing together, when he starts hiking up the dress past your waist and eventually off your body.
Barou sucks in his teeth, eyes drinking in your shy figure underneath him as he stares at your heaving chest, stomach, and plump thighs. He swears under his breath, hesitating for just a moment, before slipping a hand lower, past the barrier of your panties.
A strangled moan catches in his throat as he discovers the slick heat from your arousal, thick fingers pressing gently at the entrance. Your face casts a wild, bewildered look and you throw your head back, hand covering the lower half of your face.
“D-Don’t tease me…”
Barou clicks against his teeth. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Almost entranced, he stares at your slick center, folds glistensing and your clit practically pulsing with need. His fingers tremble, exploring with hesitance born from innocence. The warmth between your thighs is new, intoxicating, and downright terrifying. With each careful, slow, tentative touch, the sound of his name spilling from your lips is like a sacred plea and it ignites a spark within him.
He can’t wait any longer.
Barou groans as he rubs his padded fingers in between your dewy folds and slides in, a tight and perfect fit that draws a gasp from both parties. Your walls flutter around him almost instantaneously, paired by high pitched mews rolling off your tongue. He watches your knuckles fist the sheets as he starts his slow, stretching movements.
Your body squirms under his onslaught, thighs threatening to press closer from the sensitivity but he settles a firm grip on one of them. The sight of you under him, vulnerable and consuming, with hot tears springing out of the corners of your eyes, drives him over the edge. His fingers pick up speed inside, soon turning relentless, scissoring your gummy walls at a pace that you struggle to keep your volume low. Barou watches you throw a hand over your mouth when his thumb starts rolling over your clit in slow but purposeful circles. The scent of sex drenches him, listening to you mew and beg, his heavy cock leaking all over your thigh when you begin to raise your hips.
“Shouei,” you moan out, skin glistening and wet, flushed from the heat. Your fingers grasp sloppily against his biceps, sending shivers down his arms. “I want to take care of you, too.”
He spreads your legs even further out, applying more pressure to your core. Seeing the sight of you buckling your hips, grinding so shamelessly down on his fingers, brings him more pleasure than it should. Hearing the sighs and whines you babble out tells him everything he needs to know.
Barou raises his lips to your temple as he picks up the pace, groaning from the lewd sounds below. “Finish for me first, I don’t like owing favors,” he starts kissing your throat, tongue tracing over your sweet spots as your walls start fluttering around his digits.
Your hands land on his biceps, clutching his body as close to yours as possible while you calm down from the rush, unable to stop the way you're wailing his name right into his ear. It isn’t until Barou releases his fingers that he realizes that his sweats are now soaked from your orgasm.
“I'm sorry...” You sharply turn your head away, pleasure quickly replaced by embarrassment.
Barou carefully brushes the hair out of your eyes and captures your lips in a sweet and tentative kiss. “Was gonna get rid of them anyway.”
"Oh," you breathe out, unable to form a more suitable response.
He gets up from the mattress and manages to free himself from the remainder of his clothes. Normally, he would toss them in a hamper, but tonight he’s kicking them to the side. Mild anxiousness and anticipation claws at his throat when he formally settles between your legs and, this time, your hands are back to poorly covering up your bare, flushed out body.
Barou furrows his brows and gently pulls them aside, already reading your thoughts. “Stop, you don’t look weird.”
“But—”
He bends down, hands kneading on the flesh of your breasts while his mouth latches onto the side of your neck. You struggle to keep your voice down and squirm under his touch, again. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”
It’s like he can almost see all the blood rushing towards your head when he pulls back. You’re nodding, shaking and quivering, and he can practically hear your heartbeat over his own.
“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” Barou’s amazed that he’s able to keep it together, that his voice is even, because your fingers are slowly guiding his cock towards your entrance.
He’s had a girlfriend in the past, though the intimacy has never gone past making out. He has a faint idea of how it should feel and what he should do, but all that thought gets thrown out when his tip presses softly against your wet folds. Everything starts to feel unbearingly hot and tight.
“I trust you,” you sharply inhale when the first few inches slide into the soft, heated space, and spread your legs wider. You shift against the mattress, a hand splaying on his chest while the other is fisting the sheets. “I trust you more than I trust myself, Shouei.”
He hisses in response to that, adjusting his length, and cranes his head back so he can avoid releasing everything right then and there. You bite back a loud moan as soon as he bottoms you out, your nails digging and leaving half crescent marks into his chest at the stretch.
“Shit—you’re so warm,” he steadies his breathing, and reaches out a hand, caressing your flushed cheeks. He carefully dives in to kiss your lips and then your throat, biting until he nearly breaks skin.
You shudder beneath him, responding with a noise that’s in between a moan and a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already?”
Barou ignores your taunting and scrapes his teeth along the ridge of your throat until he finds your earlobe, basking in the way you’re squeezing around him. “How you do want me to fuck you?”
Silence takes over as your answer, eyes widening at his response. A small thrust and he watches you wince from the stretch. Barou slows down his movements, pulling all the way out before sliding back into the hilt. Shocks of pleasure surges through his veins, and his throat rumbles with every tight pulse your velvety walls offer him, holding your hips steady as he builds up the rhythm.
Your moans and gasps send shivers down his whole body, arching your back as he finds the furthest point. Your grip on his chest tightens, fingers grasping, nails breaking the skin. Though, the pain is nothing compared to the binding pleasure Barou feels being buried deep around your enveloping, addicting warmth. His brain melts into a puddle, every nerve in his system heightens to a new level as you’re tightening around him.
You raise your hips higher, opening yourself and deepening the angle that he can thrust his way through. Barou’s browline pools in a thin veil of sweat as he works his way through it all, staring down at you in a silent, consumed gaze. He presses his hips forward and manages to find the spot that makes you violent and wild. The sound of his name shatters the air and you throw your head back, bliss screeching through both of your veins.
"Shouei, it’s too much," you cry out.
Barou sucks in his teeth, fingers pressing hard into your flesh. “Just breathe, you’re okay.”
He watches your eyes widen with a shaky nod. Your chest rises and falls, eyes frantically darting from the area between your legs up to his face in an attempt to calm yourself.
“I-I know, I know,” you respond, choked out and breathless.
Any consideration for neighboring guests in the complexes are abandoned as Barou pumps into you, his core tightening as every thrust brings him closer. Your walls and arousal coat around his cock with eagerness, as if afraid to let him go.
At the sight of you, teary-eyed and a babbling mess, Barou leans down and his mouth captures yours in another searing kiss that mutes your sounds. Your fingers shoot up, tangling in the mess of his long, black locks, pulling him closer until there’s no space left—until he feels nothing but wet skin and sheer desperation.
He buries his face in your neck, his hot breaths and pants tickling your skin as he senses the incoming orgasm. Barou shuts his eyes and lets his concentration break, mind fully focusing on the feeling of you swallowing him as he works his cock deep inside of you as he could go. All he can think about is how warm and tight everything feels, the sounds you’re making, how much he loves hearing you, and how long he’s been waiting for this moment. Now, with your cries of passion filling the room, back arched in a way he can't even fully describe, it’s more than he can handle, more than he can believe.
Your walls clench violently around him, one hand flying up and tugging at his hair so hard that it stings. But he’ll take it, Barou will endure all the pain and hunger from you knowing you’re cumming hard on his cock. He lets the pain ebb away, turning into waves of ecstasy. Your name falls from his lips and fills the dark room.
Barou bites back a moan and chews his lower lip, head nuzzled deep into your shoulder blade and hips stuttering as his vision goes blurry. Pleasure overtakes him, both immense pressure and the immediate release of it exploding in his skull, and he ends up gasping for air, legs jerking and body trembling as he releases inside of you.
He holds you tightly, rocking your body and panting against your warm skin as both of you try to catch your individual breaths as the aftershocks settle through. Everything stills, all that’s left are the low hums of the air conditioner and your frantic heartbeats. Barou isn’t sure how much time has passed when he finally feels his length go limp. Gently, he slips out and catches the way you moan in disapproval at the feeling of sudden emptiness.
He raises his head and meets your eyes, finding yours wet and half-lidded, completely fucked over. Lifting a thumb to wipe away the threatening tear, he rolls off and settles upright by the edge of the bed. The darkness strains his eyes, but he manages to find what he’s looking for. A few moments later and he hands you a few tissues from the bedside table and cranes his body.
“Are you okay?” Barou’s cautious of the volume of his voice, as if raising it an octave higher would break you even further.
Your breath hitches, wincing and moving meticulously to avoid spilling out all the contents on the sheets. “I think I am?”
“You sound unsure.”
“Well,” you prop up next to him, body curling tight together like a coil, head nudging against his bare shoulder. “We just had sex.”
The word almost slaps him in the face, making him sit up even straighter.
“We… did,” he said, slowly, and now feeling a certain way that he isn’t sure how to describe. Comfortable isn’t the right word, but it’s not exactly uneasy either. But that’s another step to think about, one that he probably won’t take today. He pauses for a moment, tongue heavy in his mouth, but pushes through and ignores the fretting in the back of his mind. “Do… Do you regret it?”
“No,” and you’re quick with it, despite avoiding eye contact. Instead, you curl your fingers around his bicep and squeeze hard. After a pregnant pause, you throw back the question. “How ‘bout you?”
“I don’t,” Barou finds himself equally as responsive, and he’s sure about a lot of things.
He’s sure he’s going to wake up tired and sore, but definitely is still going to out perform his other teammates tomorrow. He’s sure that one day he’ll surpass Isagi. And he’s sure that he wants to be here, with you. You two are best friends and… what, girlfriend and boyfriend now? It’s a crazy thought, but it has his heart fluttering like some dumb teenage romcom.
You simply nod, humming in deep thought, before reaching over and pulling him in for another kiss, and this time, it’s soft and delicate. Fragile, slow, and it has Barou clenching around the edge of the mattress. You’re both making quiet sounds, and he wants to keep going, but he can’t quite subdue that little bubbling jolt of fear in his head. And, because you’re stupidly observant at the strangest times, you pull back.
“We should… probably talk about this, right?”
“We should,” he agrees but, as soon as he glances at the time, exhaustion hits him like a freight train. Barou shudders and he allows gravity to take over, collapsing back onto the cold, wet mattress.
“Hey,” you shake him, enough to rouse some of the tiredness away. “Don’t crash here tonight, everything’s covered in sweat.”
He scoffs and turns over, relishing in the mild comfort. “You’re starting to sound exactly like me.”
“C’mon, Shouei,” he can’t exactly see you from this angle, but he imagines a big pout plastered over your face. “I mean it, let’s sleep in your room. This is like a sex bed…”
“Don’t call it that,” Barou cringes.
“I mean, technically it is. Y’know, couples get twin beds in hotel rooms all the time for that purpose and—”
“If we move to my room, will you promise me that you’ll be quiet and get some sleep?” Barou can slowly feel bags forming under his eyes.
Your weight shifts above him and you make a small noise of approval. “Sure, but no promises.”
© 2023 DOOBEAN. do not copy any of my writing and translate/repost.
#doobean writes#bllk#blue lock#bllk smut#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#blue lock smut#blue lock x female reader#bllk x female reader#barou shoei smut#barou shoei x reader#barou shouei#barou smut#barou x reader
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aegean - fa14 smau
fernando alonso x fem!singer!reader
summary: fernando alonso and his girlfriend break up, but is it really over?
warnings: angst no fluff! some slut shaming moments, fernando does NOT look good in this one, but theres more going on behind the scenes i promise xx
a/n: this has no specific face claim, and the songs mentioned are from a variety of artists! there will be a list at the end of the post ♡ there is a part two to this all planned out, it will be posted shortly, hopefully!
my masterlist
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yourusername shout out to my girls 🫶 i love you forever!
tagged: yourbsf1, yourbsf2, lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes
yourbsf1: YOURE SO PRETTY I LOVE YOU WIFE!!!!!
yourusername: NO YOU!!
alexandrasainmleux: pretty pretty girl!!
yourusername: can’t wait for another date with you gorgeous 👩❤️💋👩
charles_leclerc: excuse me?
yourusername: you’re excused, vroom vroom boy 😒
user1: gorgeous gorgeous girls have breakup parties together
yourusername: you know it!!!
user2: CONFIRMATION? IM DEVASTATED. RUINED. WALKING INTO THE OCEAN.
Liked by f1, astonmartinf1, and 375,599 others
fernandoalo_official Greece, you were beautiful🤩A few days off before it’s back to the track again! 🏎️
User3: Sir, I don’t know what you did, but you better fix it right the fuck now.
User4: how do you know it was his fault? we don't know anything yet
User3: bc that woman is literally a saint, there’s no way it was her fault
User5: don’t get me wrong, i love y/n so much, but there’s no way for us to know what happened. it might not have been anyones fault, and neither of them need this energy if they’re trying to get over their breakup :’( i’m rooting for both of them
Hater1: Always knew she was bad for you, congrats man!
astonmartinf1: see you soon, sir!
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Liked by yourbsf1, charles_leclerc, maisiehpeters, and 264,978 others
yourusername been a little busy lately, but i’ve got something cooking for you all!
yourbsf2: love you so big <3
yourusername: i love you the biggest! 💓
alexandrasaintmleux: can’t wait for everyone else to hear it!!
user6: PLEASE TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW!!!! 🙏
alexandrasaintmleux: 🤫
user 7: oh… this is gonna wreck me, isnt it.
lilymhe: yeah… you’ll thank her though
user8: the last photo 💔 i promise it gets easier, y/n
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yourusername remember when i said i had something cooking? my album ‘aegean’ is out now. a lot of love and hurt went into this album, and now it’s yours. i hope it means as much to you as it does to me <333
finneas: it was such a blast to work with you on this album, lets do it again soon!!
yourusername: yes please!
francisca.cgomes: so proud of you babe, just lmk when you want to run away and elope!
yourusername: my bags are packed and waiting!
pierregasly: guess i’ll just leave you both to it 🧍
yourbsf2: wow look at how cool and pretty and talented my best friend is, everyone!!!
yourusername: ugh i love you so much
alexandrasaintmleux: still so excited!!! can we please go get late night ice cream to celebrate
yourbsf1: seconded
francisca.cgomes: thirded!
yourusername: ok to the groupchat before this is a long chain xx
alexandrasaintmleux: as you wish, babe 👩❤️👩
user8: oh my god???? surprise drop???? queen behavior
user9: i’m not crying, YOU’RE crying!
user10: ur crying too, dont lie!
user9: ok yeah. have you HEARD aegean? how could i not be screaming crying throwing up.
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lilymhe this amazing, beautiful girl did something amazing and beautiful again! y/n, i am so so proud of everything you’ve accomplished. please never let the hurt keep you down, because you are absolutely incredible. We will always be there to pick you back up if you need it! midnight ice creams with you are something i will cherish forever 🫶
tagged: yourusername, yourbsf1, your bsf2, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, maisiehpeters
yourusername: i love you sooo much lily <33333 thank you for being such an incredible friend
lilymhe: i love you forever 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶
francisca.cgomes: pretty best friends stick together forever and ever
yourusername: men are temporary, girlfriends are forever
maisiehpeters: might need to move to monaco so i can come to every midnight ice cream from now on
lilymhe: you’re welcome every time!
user11: how do i get this kind of female friendship in my life? 🥺
yourusername: be kind, be yourself, and be open! your people will find you, user11 💕
user11: OMG HI QUEEN ILYSM KEEP BEING YOU!!! thank you so much!
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Fernando Alonso's Instagram messages
a/n: and that's my first fic! first smau too, so i hope the formatting isn't too bad? i love when reader is friends w the wags, but i also always love to have y/n have friends outside of the paddock, so i hope no one minded! sorry if any of the wags are ooc i just rlly needed a big group of girl friends for this and idk how normal people talk. also was this just propaganda for some of my fav songs/artists? maybe 🤭i'm actually super nervous about this, so i hope you all enjoyed!!! please send me any questions or comments you have!
the songs mentioned are:
While You Were Sleeping - Laufey
Black Hole - boygenius
Lovesick - Laufey
Goddess - Laufey
Wendy - Maisie Peters
anything - Adrianne Lenker
opposite - Sabrina Carpenter
Aegean - Push Baby
Mud - Delaney Bailey
things i wish you said - Sabrina Carpenter
(I Would Have Followed You) - Delaney Bailey
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smau#social media au#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso x you#fernando alonso x female reader#f1 angst#f1 instagram au#fernando alonso#fernando alonso imagine#fernando alonso instagram au#fernando alonso smau#fa14#fa14 x reader#fa14 imagine#fa14 fanfic#fa14 fic
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Falling in love again (Christen Press x Reader)
Writers block is being a pain at the moment so sorry it's been a while since I posted. I'll be back to trying to write my list of requests in a few weeks when I'm back from holiday. This wasn't requested, just a random idea and probably not very good but I hope you like it!
Warnings: Death of a partner, grief. If you find anything else let me know and I'll add it!
Words: 4.3K
---
Almost two years had passed since I lost my person. The person I thought I would spend my life with, the person I loved more than I thought it was possible to love someone. Life was cruel like that, giving you a person who understood you, who loved you so deeply, only to rip it away in the worst way possible. The day the phone call came, telling me Talia had been in an accident that claimed her life was a blur. Honestly, at times it still felt like a dream. The overwhelming grief, disbelief and fear I felt that day still ever present if I thought back to it.
I had almost quit soccer for good after that, but I knew she wouldn't want me too. Talia loved watching me play, she knew how much I loved it, always encouraging me and supporting me in everything I did. So I kept going, every game I played, I played for her. The grief had faded since then. It was always there, it always would be, some days were worse than others, but it was bearable. It didn't consume me like it once had.
One of the things Talia used to love was colouring in my tattoos. Not that I would have admitted it to her, but once we started dating, my new tattoos were purely designed so she could colour them. Our spare time was often spent with her colouring them while I drew or did random stuff. It was something I found myself doing often, especially when I was missing her.
Someone sat down next to me as I slowly coloured in one of the many tattoos scattered over my body. I didn't pay them much attention, continuing colouring, "What are you doing?"
I shrugged, not looking up at Emily, "Colouring."
"Is she colouring in her tattoos again?" Kelley asked sitting across from us.
"Yup, we really need to get her paper or a colouring book."
"Have you ever noticed even when there's paper around she still does it? Look at how comfortable and peaceful she looks. It's like a built in stress relief." I fought the urge to chuckle at how they talked as if I wasn't there. To be fair I was only half listening.
"Why do you colour in your tattoos?"
I sighed, putting down the pen. The team had been bugging me for months now about it. These were some of the people I trusted most in the world, there was no reason to keep hiding it from them. "It reminds me of my wife. She would sit there for hours colouring in my tattoos while I drew. It became sort of a routine."
"You're married? You don't wear a ring."
I pulled the chain around my neck that held a simple black band and a silver band with a line of diamonds. "Mine and hers," I took a deep breath trying to control my emotions, "She died almost 2 years ago, I only take it off for games."
"God Y/n, I'm so sorry," Ali said, pulling me in for a quick hug.
Alex was the next to pull me into a tight hug, "How come we never knew? We've known you longer then two years?"
"No one knew except our close friends and family. At the time we weren't as close as we are now and I guess I couldn't bring myself to mention it after. We never specifically hid it, just didn't put it out there. She never wanted to the world to know who she was. Never wanted who she was with to impact her kids."
"She had kids?"
"She was a teacher at a school for kids with disabilities. They meant the world to her, she would do anything for them. It was always a worry that her suddenly being known would affect her job in some way."
"It sounds like she was an amazing person. I'm sad we never got to meet her."
"You did, you just never knew who she was to me."
"Talia? I remember you mentioning that she passed away and that's why you took that break," Alyssa asked.
"Yup, we had been married 4 years the day you met her."
"That's why you completely disappeared that day then wouldn't tell us why."
A small smile appeared on my face remembering that day. We had booked a hotel room, ordered way to much room service, gave each other massages, then had a bath and watched movies. It was simple, but one of my favourite nights besides the day we got married, "She had flown in that weekend just so we could celebrate our anniversary. We never spent one apart."
---
Christen sat down on her bed, staring up at me for a second before speaking, "That's why you turn everyone down when they ask you out? Including me."
There had been many people over the years that had asked me on dates, all being turned down for obvious reasons. Christen had been one of them though, about a year after Talia passed. Besides Talia, Christen was the only person I could actually see myself with if I ever got to a point where I felt ready. That wasn't now, but part of me hoped it would happen soon. Despite the guilt and grief that was there, I wanted the chance to be happy again with someone. We had talked about it a few times and neither of us wanted the other to hold on for too long. Talia would want me to be happy, to move on and one day, when the time was right, I would.
I sighed sitting down next to Christen. Sitting or lying on the others bed was a pretty common occurrence when we roomed together. "You know I know she would want me to be happy, but every time I even think about starting to date again, it feels like I'm betraying her. Like if I start something, I'll forget her."
"You'll never forget her. No matter what you're doing or who you're with, she will always be in your heart. She'll always be your person, but you can love someone else while still loving her just as much as you always have. It's not one or the other and if the next person doesn't understand that then they aren't worth the time. There's no rush to move on."
"Thanks Chris. Out of all the people that have asked me out, you're the only one I thought about saying yes to. I'm sorry I wasn't ready."
Christen placed her hand on my knee, squeezing gently. Something that always seemed to make me feel peace. "Don't be. I always knew there was a slim chance of you saying yes and I accepted that. I was just happy that it didn't change our friendship."
"Would you still be open to that date? Not right now, but sometime in the near future."
"Of course I would. There's no rush or pressure though Y/n/n, whenever you're ready, I'm ready. And if you're never ready that's okay too."
---
Today was two years since Talia was taken. Of course it was game day. When I realised the date it was like a weight was sitting on my chest. Christen was still asleep so I slipped quietly into the bathroom to shower and let the tears out. I had originally been thinking about pulling out of the game, but after my shower I was actually feeling okay to play. I was determined to win for her.
The final whistle blew as I clung onto whoever was closest, my knees trying to give out on me. The rush of emotions I felt was not what I expected. Happiness, relief, grief all rushing through me as I tried to hold it together in front of everyone. Letting my emotions show in front of friends or family was hard enough, I didn't need that happening in front of the fans.
I managed to hold it together enough to greet the fans before we made our way to the locker room. As I put the necklace back on, I broke. Tears silently streaming down my cheeks before a sob forced it's way out. Instantly, Ali's arms wrapped around me tightly as I sobbed into her shoulder. I didn't like crying in front of people, but there was no stopping it. So for once, I just let it out with the comfort of the people I trusted most.
Once I had calmed down, Ali finally spoke up, "What's going on Y/n/n?"
"I-it's been 2 years sin-since- I'm sorry."
Ali's arms tightened as another hand squeezed mine, "Never apologise for feeling how you feel. You can always feel how you feel with us. We've got you always."
We spent longer in the locker room than we normally would as the girls took turns comforting me and making sure I was okay before we left. After dinner, most of the team ended up in one of the rooms for team bonding. There were quite a few questions about Talia, normally I didn't talk about her much because of the emotions it brings up, but everyone seemed genuinely interested in her. Also, talking about her was actually quite therapeutic.
Even though it was therapeutic, talking about Talia still brought up emotions so I had found myself cuddled up with Ali for comfort. I had almost went to Christen for comfort, but the guilt had started to creep in again making me decide against it.
"How old were you when you got married? It must have been quite young," Tierna asked.
"We were. We started dating at 19, married at 23. Possibly too young in some peoples opinions, but at the time we just got the idea in our heads and went with it. I proposed and 2 months later we were married. My time with Talia was incredible, it was fun and low maintenance. We met in college when we both didn't have a lot of money, most of our dates in our first few years were picnics, walks or movie nights.
I mean our first anniversary, we made each other homemade cards. Talia got me marshmallows because I was obsessed with them at the time and I got her chocolate and gummy bears. We ended up at the beach, making smores before going back to my apartment and making pasta for dinner. To this day that was probably one one of my favourites. Talia never cared about fancy or expensive things, that never changed the further I got in my professional career or as our money situation changed. She was just happy if we were together."
I knew I was rambling, but I couldn't help myself. Talking about Talia before I lost her was one of my favourite things. The girls didn't seem to mind though as everyone's attention seemed to be completely on me. "She sounds like she was an incredible person."
"She was. I think she would have gotten along with all of you. Especially Emily and Kelley. Talia loved pranks and just being annoying. She wrapped up a carrot and gave it to me more than once, she would pull little pranks all the time or poke and prod at me constantly."
Later that night, Christen got my attention as I slipped into my bed, "Hey, you doing okay? I know today was hard."
"It was, but I'm feeling okay right now. I think talking about her helped. I've never really let myself because of the emotions it brings up. Turns out it's quite freeing to talk about her."
"The team would agree, it was nice to hear about her. I can see how much you love her."
"It's uh not weird for you is it?"
"No. Y/n, she was your wife, you love her, you always will. I know that. If we were to eventually get to a point past friendship, I would never expect anything else. You can talk to me about her whenever you want and I don't want you to feel bad about it."
"Thank you Chris. I don't want you to think I'm leading you on or anything. I have every intention of asking you on a date, I just need a bit of time."
"Hey, I don't think that at all. Like I said, there is no rush, there's no expectations."
---
It had been about six months since mine and Christen's initial conversation. I was finally feeling like I was ready to try dating again, all I had to do was ask. It had taken longer than I thought it would and a part of me was thinking that Christen would have lost interest by now or just didn't want to deal with my past. A part of me was tempted to not ask, to save myself from rejection, but I also knew there was no way to know unless I asked.
"So."
"So?"
I took a deep breath, trying to clear some of the nerves that had been building. I had never asked one out let alone dated anyone else besides Talia. Christen sent me a small smile, the nerves melting away when I saw the adoration in her eyes. "Will you go on a date with me Chris?"
"You're ready for that?"
"I think so, I've been thinking about it a lot recently. It's just this is something I haven't done with anyone besides Talia so I might not be perfect or even close to it, but I'll try."
"I would love to Y/n. Just tell me if we go on this date and you realise you're not ready. I'll understand. You also don't have to be perfect, we'll figure this out as we go okay?"
"Thank you Chris. I'll pick you up at 6?"
"We're sharing a room."
"I'm going to get ready in Ali and Alex's room, that way I can pick you up."
"And they say chivalry is dead."
---
Trying to plan a date was so far out of my comfort zone that I didn't even know where to start. Of course I had been on many dates with Talia, but that was different. It had been 10 or so years since my first and only first date. I knew Talia like the back of my hand, I knew what she liked, where she liked to go. Christen on the other hand, I knew her, but to a far lesser extent which was making me overthink. What if she didn't like what I planned? What if I did too much or not enough?
Before I could continue to spiral, I decided to enlist the help of Tobin. Normally I would go to Ali, but Tobin was Christens bestfriend.
"You okay Y/n?"
"No. Well yes but also no. Christen and I are going on a date tonight and I'm freaking out. I cannot for the life of me decide what to do. Every time something comes to mind, I convince myself that it's not enough. Chris will be the second person I've ever taken on a date, it needs to be perfect."
Tobin led me to sit on the bed as I had started to pace across the room. "Don't tell her I told you, but Chris doesn't care what you do, she's just happy to go out with you. Tell me your ideas?"
"I know she likes parks or gardens, beaches, picnics, museums, that sort of thing. There's not a beach around otherwise I would take her there and it'll be too late to take her to the museum but I found a nice park the other day. It has a lake and there were heaps of like lights and stuff. Was thinking picking up some takeaway and other bits to have a picnic at the park, but it doesn't seem like enough."
"Y/n, that is perfect. I know this is pretty much completely new to you, but you just need to try relax a little bit. You know Chris, she's your friend, you know what she likes. She's going to love a picnic in the park, maybe a walk around after."
"Thank you Tobs."
"Hey Y/n?"
"Yeah?"
"Chris is going into this knowing there's a chance you realise you're not ready and she'll understand that, everyone will. There'll be no hard feelings or anything. Just if that happens, please tell her sooner rather than later. I know you won't do it on purpose, but I don't want her to get her hopes up."
"I will. This wasn't a decision I made lightly, I feel ready and I'm really hoping I am. I admit, it does feel a bit weird, but I really like her Tobin. The last thing I want to do is hurt her."
Tobin smiled slightly, pulling me into a quick hug, "I know and so does Chris. Just take it one step at a time, you don't need to rush anything or do anything that doesn't feel right."
After one last hug I made my way to the door, "Thanks Tobs, I should go get ready before I make myself late."
Before heading back to my room, I ran down to the shop to get a few things. Picking out what to buy took longer than it should have. Everything I thought about buying, I ended up second guessing if Christen actually liked it. Time was running out though so I ended up picking out some wine I thought she liked and some other picnic type things.
Despite almost making myself late, I knocked on the door at exactly 6 pm, trying my best to push down the nerves. Tobin was right, Christen was my friend, I knew she didn't expect or even really like some fancy date. There was no real reason to be this nervous. Part of it was probably because of how new it was, part of me was second guessing if I was truly ready for this, but I think that was due to nerves and not wanting to hurt Christen. Another part was because it was Christen. Gorgeous, kind, thoughtful Christen. Anyone in their right mind would be nervous to be going on a date with her.
"Hi Y/n/n."
"Hi."
Christen smiled, kissing my cheek softly, "You okay?"
"A bit nervous, but I'm okay. You ready to go?"
We made our way out of the hotel, stopping to pick up takeaway before starting the ten minute walk to the park. Christen didn't ask about what we were doing, instead making random conversation. Knowing I was nervous, I had a feeling she was doing it on purpose to try calm me down. It was definitely working, my nerves were fading away the longer we talked and I wasn't thinking so much about if it was enough. Instead, I was letting myself be excited about it.
When we got to the park, Christens eyes lit up as she looked around. I found a nice spot by the lake, spreading everything out on the blanket as Christen got comfortable. "How'd you find this place? It's beautiful."
"I stumbled upon it when I went for a walk the other night."
"You went for a walk, alone at night?"
"Maybe not my best idea, but I needed to clear my head away from our room, away from the hotel."
Concern covered Christens face as she straightened slightly, "Away from our room? Was I doing something wrong?"
"No, no you didn't do anything. I was trying to figure out if I asked you out or not. I guess I was worried that I had left it too long and maybe you weren't interested anymore. I also felt a bit guilty, making you wait so long. It seems unfair to you. Got in my head about it I guess. If you can't tell, I'm a bit of an overthinker sometimes."
"Well I'm glad you did. This wasn't unfair to me, I promise. You were honest about everything Y/n, you didn't give me false hope or lie to me. That was all I could ask of you. Are you feeling okay about this?"
"I am. Honestly, it feels a little bit weird which maybe you don't want to hear, but I'm really having a good time."
Christen smiled, taking my hand gently, "Look, I don't get how it feels, but I will never dismiss anything you're feeling. You can always talk to me about it. It's okay for it to feel weird because it probably is for you, I don't take offence to that."
"Thank you. Now lets eat before it gets cold."
We spent the next couple of hours talking about anything we could think of. There had never been anyone but Talia that I could talk to so comfortably without running out of things to talk about. That was until Christen came along. Long before there were any feelings, there had always been something about her that made me feel comfortable talking to her about things. Now I craved the conversations I could have with her. I wanted to get to know her more, from the mundane to the personal.
Conversation continued as we walked around the park hand in hand then back to the hotel when it started to get late. The nerves had long faded by now, instead being replaced by giddiness and maybe butterflies. Going on a date with Christen felt right. Despite the lingering guilt, I knew Talia would approve. I knew that out of anyone to move on with she would have chosen Christen for me. That in itself brought a sense of peace.
---
Christen slipped under the blankets on her bed, pulling me down with her. I laughed as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders, mumbling something about wanting cuddles. Pulling her closer, I left a soft kiss against her forehead before speaking. "You want me to sleep in your bed tonight?"
Christen just nodded. We had just got back from our fifth date in two weeks. They could have been spaced out since we lived in the same city, but I felt like a smitten teenager again. Instead of the nerves that plagued me for our first date, I was excited about the dates. Maybe to some it was too many too quick, but I didn't care and Christen didn't seem to either.
Despite the amount of dates we had been on, we were planning on taking things slow. It was my idea to take it slow as this was something I hadn't done in a long time. We had kissed for the first time at the end of the last one, but even though we were rooming together, we hadn't slept in the same bed yet.
"That can be arranged, but I need to get changed and brush my teeth." She groaned dramatically, but let me go with a pout. After completing my nightly routine, I took my necklace off, putting it next to the bed. It felt unfair to Christen to be sleeping in the same bed as her while still wearing my wife's ring.
"What are you doing?"
"Taking it off."
"Because you want to or because you feel you have to?" I just shrugged, Christen stood up, grabbing the necklace and putting it back around my neck before her arms wrapped around my waist from behind. "I will never make you take this off. I never want you to feel like you have to for me okay? You will always love her and that's okay. It doesn't mean you can't have that love for someone else as well."
I nodded leaning back into her. One of my biggest fears with dating someone new was that they wouldn't understand or get mad at the fact that I will always be in love with someone else. That person just happened to not be here anymore. It was scary that I already felt myself falling for Christen, she was just such a beautiful person, inside and out. I don't think I could stop myself from falling even if I wanted to.
---
Christen and I were lying on my bed as the movie credits started to play. We were supposed to go out, but I wasn't feeling up to it. Talia's birthday was in a few days and I had been thinking about her a lot. No matter how much time passed, I still missed her just as much. I was feeling somewhat guilty about the new realisation that I was in love with Christen, like I was being unfaithful to Talia. I felt guilty a lot when Christen and I first started dating. It had mostly faded over the 6 months we had been together, though it always got worse near dates to do with Talia. I just had to keep reminding myself that there was nothing to feel guilty about and that she would be happy for me.
"I hope she's proud of me," I stated quietly, mostly to myself.
Christen turned her head slightly, "Maybe I didn't know her very well, but I know she is. You've come so far in your life and career. You are an amazing person, anyone would be proud of you."
"Sometimes I wish I could have one last conversation with her. See what she thinks of my life, where I am, who I'm with. I still talk to her sometimes, almost expecting a response, but of course it'll never come."
Her fingers laced with mine, squeezing slightly, "I'm sure she's listening and she's happy that you're living the life you want. That's what the people who love us should want for us."
I rolled over so I could look at her properly, brushing a piece of hair out of her face, "Have I ever thanked you? For letting me talk about her, for understanding that me loving her doesn't take away from what I feel for you, for always being there for me on days like our anniversary, or her birthday or the anniversary of her death. It's something I am forever grateful for Chris."
"I will always do all of those things, you don't ever need to thank me. I love you Y/n, I'll always be there for you no matter what."
"Y-you love me?"
"I do. You don't have to say it back, I just wanted you to know."
I kissed her softly, trying to show everything I was feeling, "I love you Chris."
#uswnt x reader#uswnt imagine#woso imagines#woso x reader#christen press x reader#christen press imagine
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Jennifer nearly jumped into the water / and she was tired like no one's ever been tired
#myart#wesley crusher#jennifer is on her way home. then she remembers her life is like a nightmare!!!!#geniunelyyyy thinking about the post-first duty years of wesleys life is so miserable.#he killed his best friend and ruined his friendship with everyone else and lost picards respect (the only thing he ever cared about)#and then you just. dont hear about him at all for 2 years.#trying to capture the extremely specific existential dread of knowing something is deeply wrong in your life but not being able to change.#JUST THE LOOK OF A YOUNG MAN WHOS PROFOUNDLY UNHAPPY AND DOESNT EVEN KNOW WHY!!!#the quote from that novel. where he says “jaxa knew better than the rest of us the only way to escape this thing was to die”. ITS SICK!!#like leaving starfleet was not even on his radar until journeys end. he didnt even consider that as an option. so what could he do.#man. theres a reason for the prominently placed golden gate bridge. jennifer nearly jumped into the water.... cuz she got no way to get out#the photos in the bg are him and picard. jack. two of joshie (the ski tripppppp) him and bev and the entire nova squadron up top#do i think he would have his room this nicely decorated while horribly depressed NO!!! it was just for the compostion of the piece#like trying so hard to keep up appearances. being surrounded by pictures of all the people who love him and still not able to get out.#some of the papers lying around the desk are like. intended to be letters to bev that he just gave up on writing.#OKAY sorry i just wanted to finish this before i leave tomorrow. i spent such a stupid amount of time on this. never again#you people should always talk to me forever about my friend wesley . im soooo normal. lies facedown on floor#OH AND THE VERY SPECIFIC. EMOTION. LYING ON BED IN FULL UNIFORM. WE'VE ALLLL BEEN THERE.
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I have read hundreds of Polin Fanfiction, and I'm not stopping anytime soon. 🙈🙈🤷♀️🤷♀️
I think I found my favorite tropes for Polin Fanfiction.
I'm just listing a few of my favorites. I'd love to see what your favorites are 💕
1. Penelope runs away from the ton, and Colin Finds her.
2. Colin and Penelope elope.
3. Pen tells the Bridgertons about Marina
4. Penelope gets hurt, and Colin gets in protective mode.
5. The unwed/unplanned pregnancy.
6. Married Colin Time travels back to Season 1
7. Penelope and Colin's affair (it's only for this couple... you know the show hinted at it)
I love to see hungry Colin, Chaotic Colin, Chaotic Proposals Only Colin, Colin "My Wife" Bridgerton, Colin with a Hero's Complex, and Writer Colin
I love to see Writer Penelope, Bad ass Pen, Third Child Pen, and Sassy Pen
These are staples to me:
Pen writing, Colin writing, Colin mentioning his travels at least once, Colin telling his friends he "would never court/date Penelope Featherington, not in your wildest fantasies", Lady Danbury/Penelope's friendship, the hand cut scene, the kiss scene, the reveal at the church/or setting adjacent, car/carriage scene, chaotic proposal, an acceptance or refusal (refusals are WILD in fanfiction. I love it!), Colin tells off Portia, Cressida's blackmail, Colin's pleading to Penelope to Stay, Mirror, Colin telling everyone how much he loves Penelope.
I love it when the author chooses to keep Whistledown or not. Sometimes, both Colin and Penelope become Whistledown. In another fic, Pen gives it up. In certain stories, Colin supports and loves her no matter what. I love how each author brings something new to the story.
I'd love someone to write about:
A "What if" Eloise told the Queen that Penelope was Whistledown.
I've always wondered the implications of that.
A. What would the Queen do?
B. Where would Pen go?
C. What would Colin do?
D. How would Portia react?
E. What would Anthony or Violet do?
F. How would the Ton react?
G. Would Eloise tell her family, Runaway, or would she still be friends with Cressida?
I'd be the first to read it! There are so many ways that this plot could go.
Recommendations are in this next post:
I appreciate you, Polin Fanfiction authors! Keep up the great work! 💕
#bridgerton#polin#bridgerton season 3#bridgerton s3#eloise bridgerton#luke newton#nicola coughlan#bridgerton netflix#lady whistledown#fanfiction#bridgerton fanfiction#authors#colin bridgerton#Penelope Featherington#writing prompt#tropes#queen charlotte#pen#colin#bridgerton season 2
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Lately, I've been trying to nail down the dynamics I like best for MegOp, and I've settled on at least one-
Megatron had plenty of on the fly, basically zero communication hookups during his gladiator days, where horny mechs would stand around looking sexy in the washracks and someone just groped you to initiate something (broken servo if you're rejected), but he's never started anything that needs a real conversation. His plan for seducing Optimus Prime post-war is:
- Be in sexy situations
- Optimus will simply stick his spike in me no conversation needed bc my panels are hip height and I'm attractive
- ????
- Profit
Meanwhile, Optimus Prime is a Normal person, who believes in wacky, outlandish, utopian things like bodily autonomy, and communicating his desires honestly. So when Megatron keeps comm.ing him about how he's been "stuck in a wall" or "needs help stretching" or "could really use a massage" Optimus mostly interprets these things as Megatron either choosing to spend time with him (romantically?), or, more importantly, being more vulnerable with him and "learning to ask for help", which he is wildly touched by. So, like a person interacting with a maybe dateable coworker, and not a porno actor.
Needless to say, Megatron is furious.
"I went through the trouble of positioning my aft so that it was sticking out of the wall PERFECTLY and he just- pulled me out of it! He didn't even feel me up while doing it!! The NERVE, Soundwave!!! It's like he's not even interested."
Optimus, earlier, 3 seconds after making sure Megatron was fine after the wall: "Do you want to refuel together later? I'd like to talk to you more often, but we're always so busy. We really should make more time for it."
Ratchet and Soundwave are getting wildly different answers when they ask their respective friend about how the progress of this relationship is going.
ghhGHJH YES
PROFIT or so he thinks
Megatron I swear to God, you're in for a situation
hdhdhh sorry I'm choking on my ramen at "stuck in a wall"
Optimus is here acting like a genuinely good person, and Megatron's so frustrated with it
And Optimus is exactly giving him a time of day to chat too
I need Ratchet and Soundwave to talk about the different sides of this and Realize
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jace herondale appreciation post
so. our golden boy (man? since golden boy may as well be kit now... or matt). anyway, i just wanted to make a post to show jace herondale some love because i don’t see it nearly enough and he deserves it.
he deserves it because of how much he has grown, how well he has learnt to love and be loved, how much he cares about others, how much he has sacrificed.
specially, he deserves it because of how much he has lost and because of all the reasons he had to give up and go wrong.
he didn’t. he fought. hard. for himself and everyone else.
i just wish him happiness and love. i want him to grown old with clary, i want them to have their little family, i want him to be by alec’s side until they’re both old and gray, i want him to keep being a great brother to izzy, i want him to keep being a good friend to simon (and i want their bickering to never stop) and i want him to be an awesome friend to magnus too (even if he keeps denying it). i want him to be there for kit, for emma, for the newest additions to their family.
most of all, i want him to become the man he wants and can be. i want him to be proud of himself. i want him to stop, take a deep breath and think “ah, this is why is worthy. this is why i’m alive”.
i want him to be utterly happy and surrounded by everyone he loves.
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This will probably be the last post I make about Iggy.
Thank you all for reading my updates and all the nice things you said. I didn’t want to flood my tumblr with the awful updates, but I also wanted to keep a sort of diary about it. There was so much more I didn’t write about or tell anyone. So thank you for being there. It really meant a whole lot. 🩵
It’s been over a month and I still cry about it. I still think of her last weekend and our last day together and the excruciating decision I had to make to move her last appointment up a day. Everything about her last day was horrible. I miss her so much.
And I had to do it more lonely and alone than I’ve ever had to do anything. The kids were with their dad. I had no one to come home to. I didn’t even have another animal to come home to. The only time in my entire life I haven’t had an animal was for a few months when I had moved out of my dads house and in with my fiancé/future husband/future ex husband. The house is quiet and lonely and boring and so are my walks.
I didn’t tell my parents she was gone. I mentioned to them twice that she was pretty sick and wasn’t doing well. They never once asked me how she was doing, so I didn’t tell them. I do that. One time my ex husband got mad at me for a political view I had, so I just never talked about politics with him again. Anyway my parents - they never asked so I never told them. They came over last weekend and it was a full half hour before my step dad asked “where’s the pup? She in the back yard?” I told them she was gone. They were surprised. I told them they never asked how she was so… my mom always hated her anyway because she doesn’t like dogs. The best they could offer me was an “oh man I’m sorry.” And that was it.
To date, the kindest reaction I got was from that neighbor/dog walk friend who loved Iggy and gave me a big hug and held me while I cried for a bit. I think her name is Sue but I’m not sure.
I’m not sure when I’ll get another animal. I’m not ready yet but I will be someday. I miss her so much.
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hey Emma! I was wondering if you had any favorite blogs and why? I’m very curious to know!
hi my love! im more than glad to answer this question <3
(i wrote out of list of 20 or so people so hang on)
@sweetestdesire ~ if i could scream about anyone it would be brynn, i absolutely love her with my whole freaking heart. i love talking to her and i love reading her fics (she blows me away every time and leaves me all giggly) { navigation }
@toasttt11 ~ toast is a dream, she's one of the, if not the first, person i became friends with on tumblr and i haven't looked back since. i am in love love love with her au's and that's that :) { navigation }
@heavenlyhischier ~ abby! i love reading her posts every day, i don't think i go a day without laughing at least once at something she says. i just love her { navigation }
@itsnotgray ~ grayyyyyyy omg, she's so fun to talk to and also leaves me giggling a lot at things she says { navigation }
@quinnylouhughesx43 ~ cay is an angel i'm pretty sure. that's all i have to say rn { navigation }
@ithinkimokeei ~ a is the biggest support i know. i love bouncing ideas off of her and i love how supportive she is every day { navigation }
@asunsetgrace16 ~ give me space, i need to brag. audrey is one of the kindest people ever, she's so amazing and ahhhhhhh. her au's are amazing and i can't get enough of them, i eat them up. i'm actually pretty sure she radiates positivity like it's insane { navigation }
@hhughes ~ i can't. I LOVE HER YOUR HONOR. PLEASE GO READ HER BLURBS AND FICS LIKE RN { navigation }
@prettyboywoll ~ a my love! i simply love her that's it { navigation }
@puckology101 ~ ahhhhhhhh (does that sum it up enough or...?) { navigation }
@ijustreallylovethem ~ i brag about rae in my head but never out loud, that's weird but yeah { navigation }
@equallyshaw ~ another one of the first friends i made on here i'm pretty sure and i wouldn't change anything { navigation }
@slutforseider ~ when i tell you i screamed when i saw cait was back, i screamed
@pucksandpower ~ i'm gonna say the fic that got me hooked onto her and then you'll catch my drift. READ PRETTY WOMAN MOMENT THIS INSTANT { navigation }
@verstappen-cult ~ i love love love her fics and blurbs and everything. i think i read at least one of works each day { navigation }
@perfectlysaltycat32 ~ salty is the kindest person ever, i love talking to her, she makes my day
@theemporium ~ her writing absolutely blows me away every time, not kidding { navigation }
@hischier-papaya ~ did you really think i was going to go this whole post without talking about cam? you thought wrong. cam is one of my favorite people in the whole world, i legit can't. she's amazing to talk to, especially if you're having a bad day. and yeah, i will defend her at all costs so keep that in mind { navigation }
THERE ARE SO MANY MORE BUT I SIMPLY DON'T HAVE THE SPACE TO BRAG ABOUT EVERYONE SO :)
here are all of my other moots that i didn't mention but you should follow anyway bc i told you so
@crazy4smitty | @qrrieterisunnq | @cixrosie | @mirrorballmcgroarty | @mirrorballmcgroarty | @blueballsracing | @rowansrowdy43 | @homestylehughes | @lovelyhughes | @lvrhughes | @hischierswhore | @brdeschn | @hughes86-43 | @star2fishmeg (MY MIND TRICKED ME, I FORGOT TO ADD MEG 😭 I LOVE HER I SWEAR ) | @eleutherafairy | @luke-hughes43 | @nicohischierz | @voidvannie
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Finally have everyone done, which means I can post my Slay The Princess x Spire: The City Must Fall au!! info below the cut <3
So! These are the classes of all of the voices in the order they appear above!
Smitten: Idol (artist and performer whose art is, in itself, black magic). He's a fairly popular performer, and he's sung on stage with Damsel a few times. Ended up joining the ministry because Hero took some exaggerated story of his as fact and decided to recruit him to 'rescue' Damsel from her 'evil employers' (Smitten made this up and has no idea how to break it to Hero that he was just venting and now it's been months and he's in far too deep)
Hero: Firebrand (by the people for the people type). He's the leader of the entire set by default, since he's the only one who literally everyone likes and agrees with.
Cold: Mortician Executioner (works for the government to 'fix paperwork' wherein the paperwork says someone is dead and they happen to be alive). Spectre is a benevolent spirit who shares a body with him, and the two of them can happily switch places and take turns with the body. Wraith, on the other hand, is a weapon bound by cruel magic to his heart, who can hurt everyone except for him and is mad about it.
Opportunist: Gutter Cleric (cons the gods themselves). Very skilled at convincing godlings and sewer-angels that he's tooootally devout by using the right prayer buzzwords to skim off the top of their divinity for petty miracles and cheap tricks. It doesn't work so well on other mortals, though.
Skeptic: Vermissian Sage (eldritch train wizard). His actual official job is as a detective, so he's pretty busy.
Stubborn: Knight (exactly what you'd expect but with slightly more alcoholism). He spends most his time duelling Adversary, but he's open to doing favours for his besties whenever he's not fighting her.
Broken: Lajhan (Moon-clerics who sacrifice themselves and their sanity to heal their companions). They fell into the following of Tower and betrayed their goddess and their friends, and then Tower attempted to ascend by stealing their divinity and the lives of all of her least favourite followers. The event was... Explosive. This is the design from beforehand.
Cheated: Inksmith (fourth wall breaking writers). Works damn hard, always has a deadline, and always keeps a gun under their desk.
Contrarian: Inksmith. Plays damn hard, never has a deadline, always causes problems for Cheated, who works at the same publishing company as them.
I'm calling this au slay the aelfir and will be posting a whoooole bunch of sketches soon <3
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Her Twin?
Main Masterlist Lando Masterlist
Pairing: Oliveira!female oc (Alejandra;Allie) x Lando Norris
Warnings: Fluffy, Established relationship
Summary: People thought Lando was dating her identical twin sister, but then the "breakup" happens, and drama ensues among the fans when they learn that Lando is with her rather than her sister.
Requested: NO / yes
Lando was sitting on the couch of his apartment, his girlfriend in the kitchen making herself some snack she had been craving.
Allie was scrolling through her phone as she waited for her bagel to finish in the toaster when she seen this post that looked to be screenshotted and shared through the account.
"Baby," Allie calls out as she leaves the kitchen, leaving the bagel in the toaster.
"Yeah," Lando looks up from his phone as she comes over to him.
"Look at this," She shows him the post she found as she sits in his lap and asks, "Since when did you date my sister?"
"I didn't, I know that I brought her to a few things, but you were also there or where with, maybe the fans thought you were her. All though I don't know what this is about I never posted anything like this," Lando says just as confused.
"I'm going to call my sister," Allie stays in place as she dials her sister's number as Lando goes back on his phone, waiting for Allie to be done.
It was a total of a ten minute call with Luisinha.
"What did she say?" Lando asked, looking to Allie's face.
"She said that she didn't even know of it and that the only time it was the two of you was because I had things to do with the CEOs of the teams and Formula One and it was her helping you get things from fans," Allie says. "Did no one know that it was me and not my sister?"
"I don't know, but at the race I'll set them straight because I will now get the questions about relationships," Lando says and pulls her into a hug.
Sure enough at the race the next weekend he gets the question about the "breakup."
"How are you after your breakup with Luisinha?" One reporter asks, the other three drivers near him look at him confused.
"Um, I was never with Luisinha, she is the sister to my girlfriend, the identical twin sister. So there is no break up, I am very happy with my girlfriend," Lando answers.
"Good, I was going to say, what? There for a second. She was a friend who introduced you to your girlfriend, yes?" Max states.
"Kind of, I knew my girlfriend before her sister but we lost touch a few years after she moved back to her parents as teens, and was reintroduced by Luisinha," Lando says to Max and the Dutchman nods.
It's after this interview the fans go nuts, some saying that Alejandra stole Lando from Luisinha, and others going back and re making the connections they supposedly made before.
Many being supportive, knowing that Lando was happy with Allie.
A/N: I took a break yesterday and then got busy, oops, but here you go.
Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @hellothere9597
If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop
#f1#formula 1#ln4#lando norris#mclaren#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x oc#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you
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Look After You
SPOILERS: Through Drum Island
Why do I love writing Sanji suffering so much? Guess we'll never know.
You've braved the elements. You've climbed the mountain.
It's over.
Or, you think it's over until you find Sanji, Luffy, and Nami on the brink of death in the mountains of Drum Island.
You struggle to keep your friends alive, especially when you see the severe extent of Sanji's injuries. In the chaos, however, Sanji does the strangest thing possible.
He kisses you.
Now, waiting anxiously to find out his fate, you're forced to remember the pivotal moments in your friendship and question whether being with him will end in love and joy, or destroy the relationship you have with the person you love most.
Sanji x fem!reader
Angst | Fluff | Friends to Lovers
PG-13
TW: Gore, blood, description of serious injury, mention of food insecurity, mention of arranged marriages.
This is the same reader as Worthy of You!
Cross-Posted on A03
Request Here
“Please.”
The cold is digging through your pants now, your knees numb. Maybe you would have noticed the discomfort if the rest of your body wasn’t gripped by the numbness of terror - unable to move but frantic as you fist at the torn material of Sanji’s shirt.
“Please” you beg him, your voice not even sounding like it belongs to you, like someone else is pleading with the half of your soul before you to just keep breathing. “Please don’t leave me. Breathe for me, Sanji.”
He seems as though he can’t move his head, but he darts his eyes to the side to look at you. They’re not your Sanji’s eyes. They’re grey, distant, something akin to the snow freezing your clothes to your skin.
“I’m dying” he mumbles.
You recoil from the words. How dare he speak such a thing into existence. How dare he threaten you in that way, imply that the universe has the strength to pry him from your arms.
“I’m dying” he repeats as if you hadn’t heard him the first time. “I don’t wanna die.”
You brush some of that hair out of his eyes, and oh Gods you’ve gotten blood on his pretty face.
“I got blood on your forehead” you whisper, not sure what else to say.
In glorious, perfect him, he forces his hand to slide across the snow until it’s laid on your knee. “It’s okay, Pretty.”
Pretty.
He can’t die. Who else will call you Pretty? What will stop that part of your soul from withering away to nothing?
You don’t want to move him or lift him in fear of irritating his injuries, but not being able to hold him in his agony is ripping you apart. Blood is soaking the front of his coat. The white snow below him is pure red, disgustingly reminding you of the raspberry sorbet he’d given you earlier. You can taste it at the thought of it, but when that taste turns to the metallic ghost of Sanji’s blood, it takes everything in you not to vomit.
“Where are you bleeding?” You wonder as you slowly, ever so slowly begin to wake from your shock. “I’m gonna take your coat off and stop the bleeding.”
He meekly shakes his head. “Help Nami. Help Luffy.”
Ever generous, ever brave, ever self-sacrificial.
“I covered up Luffy’s hands and feet and wrapped Nami in my coat. They’re gonna be fine for now.”
His hand shoots out with a newfound vigor then, fingers wrapping around your wrist.
“Go” he demands you, though the harsh word doesn’t quite land with the way his voice is beginning to break. “I’m dying.”
There it is again, that betrayal.
You try your best to ignore him, reaching into your belt and pulling out your knife. The blade makes quick work of his puffy jacket. Fluff instantly turns red when it exits the fabric, sticking to his wounds and falling to the snow.
“Stop” he whispers. “Please. Pretty, I can’t move my legs. I can’t feel my feet.”
No. No, that’s not true.
It’s the cold, that’s all. It’s just the ice.
You tear open his shirt, tears beginning to prick at your eyes. They feel as though they freeze the instant they come.
“Sanji” you begin once his coat and shirt have both been cut away. “I have to roll you a bit so I can see where you’re bleeding from. I think the wound is on your back.”
You don’t give him time to hesitate or be afraid. You use all the strength that’s left in your exhausted body to roll him just a bit. You nearly gag at the sight of your best friend’s back once it seems to peel up from the ice below.
His vertebrae are exposed to you. The white bone is a stark contrast against the blood and flesh, a vile set of stars on red skies. It appears as though the skin of his back has been scraped away, leaving a gory mess in its place. You can see the vein where the blood is coming from, pulsing and dripping red with every fragile beat of his heart.
Oh, your Sanji,
You’re going to set fire to the island after this.
“Hey” you tell him softly, trying to keep the fire-hot rage in your chest from dripping into your words. “Hey, I have to stop the bleeding. I have to grab it, and it’s gonna hurt.”
You quickly pull your second layer jacket off, laying it over Sanji’s bare front to try and stop his trembling. The shaking of his body only makes it worse, blood seeming to soak the snow around you faster and faster the colder he gets
“I’m sorry” you whisper to him before reaching beneath his back.
Hot bile rushes up your throat the instant your hand finds its target. His flesh is slippery with blood, oddly warm and throbbing when you grab his vein in your fingertips. You have to turn your head down and talk yourself through deep, shaking breaths to keep all the contents of your stomach from joining the blood in the snow.
Sanji moans when you give a particularly hard gag. He hisses in pain, gritting his teeth like it’s all as simple as removing a splinter or dressing a kitchen burn.
“I’m so sorry” you apologize despite his rather subdued reaction to having a vein tugged upon. “I’m sorry, I have to hurt you to stop it.”
He licks his lips, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. They make little flakes of ice collect in his lashes.
“Please” he begs, his voice barely anything. “Please, I can’t move my legs, angel. Go get Nami and Luffy inside.”
“I don’t care if I have to get as buff as Zoro and carry you everywhere for the rest of my life. I’m not leaving you.”
Of all the things Sanji could do, he smiles. His pink, plush lips are starting to gray.
He’s still bleeding. Do better.
“I don’t want you to get cold” he whispers. “Look at your goosebumps, Pretty.”
The laugh comes through the tears.
Oh, my Sanji don’t die. Who else could make me laugh here? Now? Don’t leave me behind.
“Shut up. No more talking. You have to rest.”
“Princess saving the prince?”
You nod. “Princess saving the prince.”
Sanji exhales then, his eyes drifting up to look at the sky. There’s barely anything of him left. The skin of his cheeks is white. His breath is all but gone.
Your Sanji is all but gone.
The little boy that used to peek at you from the kitchen doors of Baratie. Gone.
Swimming in the warm sea together, letting your skin burn under the summer sun. Gone.
Falling in love with him. Knowing you’re in love with him. The pain of being in love with him. Gone
Him, the first person to ever love you, the first person you’ve ever truly loved, the only person in the world you’d die for.
Dead.
Your heart hits your stomach like a boulder.
“Sanji!”
You’re shaking him. Gods, you don’t want to hurt him, but there’s something not right in the way his eyelashes have begun to bat quickly, the way his fingers are death-gripping his clothes.
He’s dead.
He’s gone.
“Sanji” you demand, the hysterics finally bubbling to the surface. “Look at me. Sanji? Please. Please, no. No, no, no, no, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
His eyelids drift shut.
You’re weeping now, pathetic in a pile in the bloodied snow, but you pay your shame no mind.
“Sanji!” You snap, enraged at yourself for yelling at him but more enraged at him for dying. “Please don’t leave me alone. I don’t wanna be alone again.”
“Pretty?”
Your tears are dripping onto his skin.
“Sanji?”
He flips his hand, using his finger to gesture you close. You obey.
You expect a whisper, a gentle word or two, but instead Sanji uses what little might he has left to grab a fistful of your shirt and pull your lips against his.
“Hey kid, you should come put something in your stomach.”
The doctor’s voice startles you from your trance, forcing your head back to look at her.
Dr. Kureha lurks behind you, her arms crossed over her chest. You swear that the woman hasn’t slept since you arrived, but she isn’t showing a single sign of being tired. She’s just as agitated as she was when you arrived, just as annoyed.
You haven’t received much gentile from her since your arrival to her castle, but there’s something about her face now that’s soft.
“Eat” she tells you, the demand coming off with an air of sadness. “You’ve got a couple nasty cuts and bruises yourself. You need a good meal.”
You glance back at the man lying before you, Sanji’s perfect face marred with black and blue as he sleeps the day away. As beautiful as he looks, as darling as he is to you, looking at him in this moment is physically painful for you. His entire body seems to be wrapped in bandages. His breathing -to you- sounds a little labored, different than it normally does when you lay your head on his chest for a nap on the deck.
You shrug. “I’m gonna stay with him. Thank you, Doctor.”
A hand comes down on your shoulder. It doesn’t pull or shove, but gives you a soft squeeze.
“You’re an idiot in love” she reminds you, her words accompanied by a small laugh. “Come on. You’re no use to him if you starve to death.”
Kureha’s words ring loudly in your head, but for all the wrong reasons. Sanji is going to wake up hungry, no one from Baratie to make a good meal for him. Sure, he’s taught you how to cook in the years you’ve been best friends, but you’re nothing compared to him and his old coworkers. Looking back at his injuries, the only thought that plagues your mind is the image of Sanji, hungry, panicked, and covered in his cuts and bruises.
“When will he wake up?” You ask her. “He’s gonna be hungry. It makes him nervous.”
The doctor strides up beside you, laying the back of her hand on Sanji’s forehead.
“He’s cooled down” she tells you. “His infection seems better.”
She walks around you then and pinches hard on Sanji’s ankle. He flinches, his beautiful face scrunching, his foot kicking up toward her hand.
“And his spine is resting well, it looks like.”
To see Sanji able to move his legs seems to pull a weight from your shoulders. You tried your best not to let is show, but there was nothing scarier in that moment of finding your crew in the snow than hearing Sanji say he couldn’t feel his legs. You knew that if he did survive his ordeal, he’d be broken to know he’d have to learn how to cook without his ability to walk.
The thing is, you were fully prepared to learn right along with him.
Usopp would lower the counters.
Nami would pay for it.
Zero would be just as mean.
Luffy would be just as demanding for meals.
The thought of your crew makes the first smile in days come to your lips. Of course you had nothing to worry for, nothing to fear.
You look over your shoulder then to peak at your captain. The tan boy lies on his back, long arms tossed from the side of his bed as he snores. You don’t know why, but something about him makes you feel safe. Maybe it’s because you know that he’ll never leave your crew behind. Maybe it’s because you know he couldn’t.
Dr. Kureha resorts to pulling at the collar of your shirt when you get lost in your thoughts. “Get up. We’re getting some food.”
You give Sanji’s hand one last squeeze before rising to your feet.
Kureha is smiling when you face her. “Atta girl. Come on.”
You reluctantly follow her out of the room, shutting the door behind you to let the boys rest without your constant worrying. You know they can’t really feel your anxiety in their sleep, but you can’t help the guilty twinge in your gut that your worry will only scare them.
What a funny thing you can be.
“Chopper wants to eat with us” Kureha tells you once the door is shut. “You mind?”
You cock an eyebrow. “Chopper? Your little reindeer?”
The doctor smirks at you, something poisonous in that smile of hers. “Yeah, my little reindeer.”
You shrug. “He’s precious. I don’t mind, as long I can pet him.”
For some reason, Kureha begins to laugh. “You’ll have to ask him how okay he is with that, but I don’t think he’ll mind if you’re nice.”
Kureha rounds the corner with you into her living space, but as soon as you do, you stop dead in your tracks.
A little…reindeer? Boy? Boy deer?
A little -creature, you decide- sits at the table. They’re tiny, maybe the size of a small child, chubby with little hooves sitting upon the table. Their back legs don’t quite hit the floor, so they swing them back and forth slowly.
They’re damn near the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, and they’re donned in Chopper’s big red hat.
“Chopper” Kureha begins. “Ready for dinner?”
Chopper. This is Chopper, the deer that pulled the sleigh into the castle.
He’s eaten a Devil Fruit. You’re sure of it.
The little reindeer narrows his eyes, but says nothing.
You smile, doing your best to hide the shock. “I’m sorry if I’m invading. I hope you don’t mind, Chopper.”
Upon hearing you speak to him, he seems to settle into his seat at the table. “I don’t mind.”
Oh, that little voice. You want to scoop him up into your arms and never put him down.
You take the seat across from him and continue to look his way as Dr. Kureha meanders over to the stove to grab what looks like a stew from it. Chopper is eyeballing you intensely, the serious look on his face not quite matching how cute he is. His eyes roam your face.
When he makes eye contact with you, he wrinkles his nose. “How do your bruises feel?”
“Good” you assure him. “Dr. Kureha took good care of me.”
You swear that if the reindeer didn’t have fur, he’d be blushing. “Actually, it was me that patched you up.”
You can’t help the way your jaw seems to drop to the table. “You’re a doctor?”
He nods furiously.
Your heart nearly bursts seeing him so filled to the brim with joy. He has such an innocence about him, such a sweetness. He’s just purely kind.
The moment makes you feel something, something akin to when you discovered Sanji was a chef.
You narrow your eyes, watching as Sanji pours cream into a pan sizzling away on the stove. The smell is absolutely heavenly. It’s what got you in the kitchen in the first place, got you to wander away from your parents and hunt down your best friend.
“What are you making?” You wonder, hoisting yourself onto the step stool next to him and peering into the pan.
He smiles, maybe brighter than you’ve ever seen. “Potato purée. It’s a side that Zeff wants to try out.”
The food in the pan looks divine, garlic and potatoes cooking into an aromatic blend. Your stomach growls. Zeff cooked an amazing meal for your family already this evening, but you hesitated to fill your belly with the way your mother was looking at you from the corner of her eye. If Sanji offers to feed you, you may just devour the entire pan yourself.
“Zeff trusts you to cook?” You question. “My mom would kill me if I went anywhere near the stove.”
Sanji snorts a bit. “Fancy pants rich McGee over here. We don’t all have maids that cook for us.”
You frown. There’s never really been too much banter between the two of you, Sanji always acting as the perfect gentleman despite only being ten years old. His attitude is new, and a little off putting. You almost feel the pressure of tears swelling in your bottom lid.
He seems to notice your silence instantly. His face falls as terror overrides his sweet face. “I’m sorry, Pretty” he rushes out. “I just meant that there’s nothing wrong with learning how to cook. I can teach you.”
He grabs a little spoon then, scooping a bit of the mixture he’s preparing and offering it to you.
“Try it” he urges. “I swear, you’ll like it. I work in a restaurant for a reason.”
You hesitate. It isn’t that you don’t love and trust Sanji, but you’ve never seen another child cook in all your life. Your mother has always kept your far away from the kitchen all your life.
“Darling, you’ll burn yourself.”
“Please, you might undercook food and get sick.”
“Hon, you might cut yourself on a knife.”
Huh, Sanji must be pretty brave to be working away in the kitchen. His smile even makes it seem like he’s enjoying himself.
You look up at him, and when you’re met with those bright blue eyes, your skepticism falls away.
You blow softly on the concoction, watching as the steam leaves the spoon and pools around Sanji’s face. He smiles, but you can tell there are nerves behind the dimpled grin.
The liquid sends warmth through your chest the instant it touches your tongue. It’s divine. It may just be a simple side or soup -you aren’t quite sure- but somehow it tastes the way that staying up late and telling ghost stories with Sanji feels. It’s cozy. It’s comfort. It’s perfectly Sanji.
You smile. “Wow. Sanji, that’s really yummy.”
All the nerves fade from his smile. It becomes even wider. This is the first time you notice that he’s finally lost his front tooth, something you’ve been teasing him about for weeks.
“Wait until it’s done” he beams. “I’m gonna put it with some salmon and Zeff is gonna let me have my own thing on the menu.”
On and on he goes, chattering away about all the dishes Zeff has been teaching him to make. It gets to a point where you really aren’t too sure what he's describing, but you don’t stop him. It’s rare to see your best friend so animated. All you can do is savor the moment, and log each little smile and laugh to memory.
Dr. Kureha drops a bowl of soup and some bread before you. Some of the soup unceremoniously sloshes out and lands on the table before you. “Eat up, kids.”
Chopper begins to devour his food immediately. You’re amazed that he can hold utensils as well as he can in the divide of his hoof. The little reindeer is full of surprises.
You stir the soup a bit, staring into the bowl. Truth be told, you aren’t really all that hungry. You haven’t been in the two days you’ve been here. Sanji has been your main concern. Knowing that there’s a chance he’ll wake up and not be able to walk has been wholly terrifying to you. Even now with that stress beginning to subside, there’s still no urge in you to eat knowing how starving Sanji is going to be when he wakes. You begin to feel the nerves returning then.
What if he wakes while you’re away? What if he looks for you? What if he’s afraid?
Chopper bats those big, wide eyes up to you.
“You should eat” he prompts you softly. “It‘ll help you heal faster.”
It’s hard not to want to do whatever he tells you in that sweet little voice. He was careful to stay out of sight for the last few days, a skittish thing, and you don’t want to risk doing anything that might scare him away.
You give him a little smile. “Of course. Just thinking.”
He slurps down another spoonful of soup. “What’s bothering you?”
Like a flash, the image of Sanji laying in the snow plagues your mind. You can nearly smell the blood, feel the slick of the liquid on your hands.
“Tired” you half-lie. “It’s been a long few days.”
Before the little reindeer can respond, Dr. Kureha takes a seat at the table with her own bowl of food. “Sitting at blondie’s bedside isn’t going to help that. You need to crawl into a bed and get some sleep.”
You give a half hearted laugh. “Wouldn’t be able to sleep if I couldn’t see him. I’m a little, uh, protective, I suppose.”
You see Dr. Kureha smirk out of the corner of your eye. “He your boyfriend or something?”
Huh.
Boyfriend.
Sanji reaches his hand out to you.
“Come on” he urges. “You can do it. It’s not that bad.”
You cross your arms over your chest and huff. There has to be a mad blush shading your cheeks at this point, but you’re far past caring. “No. I’m terrible at this, Sanji. I’m gonna embarrass the shit out of myself on Friday.”
Sanji laughs. “Stop it. You think whatever guy you’re gonna be dancing with is gonna know what he’s doing?”
“Yes!” You sigh. “Everyone in their weird rich people cult does. It’s like they pop ‘em out knowing which forks go where and how to do a Waltz.”
He softly takes your hand then, pulling you toward him and laying his hand on your hip. It’s a chaste touch, distance between you with fingers laid on the curve of your abdomen, but it still makes your skin positively burn.
You want nothing more than to just close the distance between the two of you. It’s moments like this where he’s borderline impossible not to kiss. It’s like your body is calling for him. You crave the feeling of those rosy lips on you, so curious to just to know.
Sanji takes a small step to the side and urges you to sway with him. “You’re the birthday girl” he continues on. “If you just want to sway around, that’s what you can do and no one can say a thing.”
You huff. “I don’t want to embarrass my mom. Gods know she’ll tell me if I do.”
For the first time since the evening began, Sanji’s smile fades. It’s like watching the sun implode into darkness right before your eyes.
“You’re not embarrassing. Your birthday is supposed to be fun.”
You sigh, stepping a bit closer to Sanji and burying your head in his shoulder. He smells like cigarettes, his hair faintly scented with a citrusy musk. If only this smell could lull you to sleep at night. If only you could spend the nights curled up in his arms, safe from the world by his side.
He’s right of course. Your birthday is supposed to be fun, but it simply hasn’t been for you in the last few years. Your parents are more than antsy to have you married off the instant you turn eighteen. Every year since you turned thirteen, they’ve been hosting lavish parties of all the highest-ranking naval officers in hopes they’d bring their eligible bachelor sons with them. Your birthdays have become speed dates with every teenaged boy in and above your tax bracket.
“I don’t want to get married next year” you mumble suddenly, speaking against Sanji’s chest.
He exhales softly, the warmth of his breath ruffling your hair. “Do you really think they’re gonna make you?”
You nod. “I think they might give me a few years of grace if I really try to find someone I like, but if I just resist them, I think they’re gonna find someone for me. They’re getting frustrated.”
Sanji hums, his sway stopping as he pulls you against him. “Let’s run away. We can take my shopping boat and go be pirates together.”
A laugh finds its way up from your throat. “Yes, because my marine dad would love his only child becoming a pirate.”
“We won’t tell him” Sanji proclaims, taking your hand and beginning the tiny dance again. “We’ll go find the All Blue together and build our own restaurant. We’ll get rich.”
This makes you laugh a true, gut laugh.
“Sanji” you begin, tilting back in his arms and letting him sway you back and forth with his grip around your waist. “I have no skills that are helpful in a restaurant.”
“Not true!” He informs you through a laugh. “You’re good with your sword. You can chase off the riff raff.”
“So us becoming pirates wouldn’t make us the riff raff?”
He snorts a bit, pulling you back up so the two of you are now face to face.
His soft smile makes your heart go still in your chest.
“We’ll be good riff raff.”
Don’t kiss him. Don’t kiss Sanji. Don’t kiss your best friend.
The door of the Baratie swinging open grabs your attention, both of you turning your heads to see Zeff standing in the doorway.
“Oi, keep some breathing room between ya, got it?” The old cook demands.
Sanji rolls his eyes and lets his hands drop from your hips. The separation is like a death.
Dr. Kureha taps her spoon on the edge of her bowl. “Hey, your head feeling alright kid?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m exhausted.”
She furrows her brow, scooping more stew into her mouth. You get the feeling that she’s being very observant of you every time she looks upon you, like she’s considering something about you. You’re not sure why. Surely if she’d ask you, you’d tell her, but she doesn’t seem like the kind of person to be outright with emotional questions.
After this momentary stare down, Chopper chimes in from where he sits across from you.
“I know you don’t want to leave your friends, so I can set up a mattress on the floor for you so you can rest.”
Your gaze lingers one more moment on Doctrine before you look to the little reindeer. He’s wearing a wide grin, his teeth showing.
“You don’t have to, Chopper” you tell him softly. “I’m fine, really. I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
The little doctor aggressively shakes his head. “No! You need sleep. I’d be a bad doctor if I let you exhaust yourself without helping you.”
There’s something in that sweet little voice that’s just so hard to say no to. He genuinely just wants to help, make sure you’re healthy. It’s been awhile since your crew has been treated with that sort of heartfelt kindness.
You smile, looking to Dr. Kureha. “I hope that’s okay. We’ve already intruded on your guys enough.”
She shrugs. “Don’t give a shit what you kids do as long as no one gets in the way of treating your friends.”
You hate to admit it, but something about the woman’s harsh tone is rather comforting to you. It reminds you of the way Zeff used to scold you and Sanji.
Chopper slams his spoon down in the bowl then, smiling brightly. “I’ll go get everything set up for you! You need rest.”
He hops down, little hooves clicking against the floor as he exits the room. You could just eat him up with how precious he is. It tickles you a bit, knowing someone so little and cute is something as heavy as a doctor. You wonder then what he’s seen, what he’s been through. It makes you ache a bit.
How could the world be so unkind to someone so small that they feel the need to become a savior?
The doctor dropping her own spoon into her bowl grabs your attention. She turns to you and frowns.
“What you did was pretty intense” she begins, grabbing her own bowl and rising to her feet. “You okay in the head, kid?”
You tilt your head. “What did I do?”
She drops her bowl in the sink, turning on the faucet. “Knowing where and how to grab an artery is impressive. How’d you know what to do?”
You shy away from the strange compliment. When you keep your hands idle for too long, you can still feeling the lukewarm, slippery feeling of gripping the inside of Sanji’s back. It makes your stomach twist, your bile raise.
“I was raised by a marine admiral. You learn a lot of terrible shit when your dad is in the military.”
“Strict?”
You shake your head. “I’m his entire life. Letting me go to be a pirate was the hardest thing he ever did. Part of loving me so much was teaching me how to take care of myself, how to save myself. Sometimes that got dark, I guess.”
Kureha approaches, gesturing to your still-filled bowl. “Eat. That injury on him is never gonna heal all the way. He should be able to walk when he wakes up, but you’re gonna have to do pain management, probably for the rest of his life.
You do as you’re told, scooping another spoonful of chowder into your mouth despite being a little bamboozled by the way her sentences take so many twists and turns.
“How are you kids sleeping at night on your ship? A hammock or swinging bed isn’t gonna cut it for him for a few weeks.”
“Hammocks for the boys” you reply. “I have a bed, though. So does Nami.”
“Nami’s the girl with the infection?”
You nod.
“Well” she begins as she takes a seat across from you at the table again. “If he’s your little boyfriend, it shouldn’t be a problem to let him sleep in your bed for awhile.”
There it is again, that word.
Boyfriend.
“Yeah, that won’t be an issue” you assure her, knowing damn well that she can see the wild blush on your cheeks. “I’d do anything to make sure he gets better.”
The doctor smirks and looks as though she’s going to continue to speak, but the conversation is cut off by a bloodcurdling scream from the other room. You turn so quickly that your back cracks and aches, the speed at which you fly to your feet making your knees creak.
Dr. Kureha shoots up out of her chair just as Chopper comes barreling into the room, little legs carrying him as fast as they can.
“Help!” He shrieks, dashing under the bed Nami rests in. “They’re gonna eat me, Doctorine!”
Before either of you can ask anything of the little reindeer, Luffy and Sanji come spilling into the room through the doorway, both shirtless and bruised with crazed looks in their eyes.
“Sanji! Luffy!” You snarl, that familiar need to scold the boys rising to your chest the instant you catch sight of their misbehavior. “Stop! What the fuck?”
Luffy points wildly at Chopper who’s still hiding under the bed. “Sanji’s gonna cook that talking reindeer and make me food!”
Chopper screams. You can’t help but begin to laugh.
“Guys, that’s Chopper. You can’t eat him” you inform them as Dr. Kureha reaches under the bed, pulling Chopper from his hiding place. “He’s a doctor.”
The little reindeer growls at the boys, but can’t get down from Doctorine’s arms. Luffy looks horribly unsatisfied.
“What can we eat, then?” He wonders, a pout on his face. “I’m starving! Food!”
Just as you’re about to answer him, you notice Sanji seem to come to his senses. He reaches his arm around his midsection, slipping down until he’s leaning against the doorframe. He winces in pain the instant his back makes contact with the stone wall.
“Sanji?”
You join him on the floor, reaching out to pull him into your chest and relieve his back from the pressure of the wall. He buries his face into your shoulder, taking a deep, shaking breath. You feel the tears. They’re hot and dreadful, but as much as you want to take his face in your hands and wipe away his agony, you don’t want to embarrass him in front of Luffy.
“Why the hell are you two morons out of bed?” Doctorine snaps, setting Chopper back down onto the floor.
Luffy ignores her, going your side. “Sanji? You okay?”
Sanji nods, lifting his head then and plastering a smile onto his face. “Yep, just sore.”
Doctorine kneels down by the three of you and presses her hand down in Sanji’s lower back without saying a word. He falls into you again, crying out into the crook of your neck. You swipe Dr. Kureha’s hand away.
“Stop” you snap at her. “You’re hurting him.”
“I don’t think he re-injured anything” she determines, taking no note of your aggression. “But the area was torn apart something nasty. You need to get back into bed and stay there.”
You run your hands through Sanji’s hair. He’s sweaty, a bit unkempt. It’s a rare sight for your stylish and put-together best friend.
“Come on” your urge him. “Let’s get you back into bed. I need some sleep, too. I’ll stay with you.”
He nuzzles into your neck. It sends a shockwave through you. He’s so delicate, so sweet. You almost have the urge to release him from your arms so that you don’t hurt him.
“How can I say no when a beautiful woman is gonna sleep in the same room as me?” he teases despite the twinges of pain in his voice.
You giggle a bit. “I’ll sleep in your bed if that’s what gets you back in there.”
Sanji doesn’t need to be told twice to crawl into bed with you. He allows you and Luffy to help him to his feet, holding onto you tightly.
“Go” Kureha urges the two of you. “Both of you need to get your asses to sleep.”
Sanji leans on you the entire time you walk back to his assigned bed, nearly collapsing when the two of you get close enough for him to lie down.
“Sanji” you fret. “My God. What were you thinking, jumping up like that when you’re hurt?”
He groans as you help him lie back down on his belly. “I was thinking that my captain was hungry and I had to feed him.”
You giggle and begin to stroke his hair. “How heroic. How do you feel?”
He does his best to shrug. “Terrible, but better because there’s a beautiful lady in bed with me.”
You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying the blush that rises to your cheeks.
“Sanji” you begin, feeling knots start to tie in your gut. “Do uh, do you remember anything about me finding you guys?”
He lets his eyes drift shut, taking a deep breath.
“Hm. No, I don’t think so. I’m sorry you had to see that. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, Pretty.”
“Me?” You wonder. “Sanji, you fractured your spine and severed an artery. I haven’t been through anything compared to you.”
Sanji’s voice comes quiet, a bit shaky. “I what?”
Ah. He wouldn’t really know the extent of his injuries. He’s been unconscious for days.
“I separated from you guys to try and get those animals to back off. I found you when I climbed up the side of the mountain. You told me you couldn’t move your legs and you were bleeding from your back bad.”
He opens his eyes and rolls his head around so he can look up at you. There are tears. They kill you.
“Pretty, I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”
You shrug, trying to keep the memory of Sanji in the snow out of your mind.
“You told me you didn’t want to die” you whispered. “You told me to leave you, though.”
He reaches for your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Even the simple touch gets your heart racing.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
You kneel down beside him so you can look into his eyes, smiling to try and soothe his ever-growing worry.
“Don’t apologize for getting Nami here safely, Sanji. You saved her life” you remind him.
“I scared you” he whispers. “I’m sorry, Pretty.”
You gently boop his nose, making him smile. “I love you. Don’t apologize.”
It might just be the cold, but a blush rushes to his cheeks at your words. Goddamn, he’s too sweet for you. He’s practically giving you cavities by just smiling at you.
You lower your gaze then, looking down into your hands.
There’s one piece of information about this ordeal that you haven’t shared with Sanji just yet.
Something in you doesn’t particularly want to tell him that he kissed you. Ever since it happened, you’ve been going back in forth in your mind, trying to decide what it could mean.
Did he just kiss you because he was scared, stressed? Was he delusional from all the blood he had lost?
Did he truly mean it?
Every option would send you reeling. If he didn’t mean it, you’d be heartbroken and a little embarrassed. Years of loving him quietly would end in a faux kiss brought on by pain and delusion.
If he did mean it, you could have everything you’ve always wanted. You could be with him.
“You can’t be with him. It’s not an option.”
Your mother paces around the room as she speaks, her hands tangled in her hair.
“You can’t be with him” she repeats, her voice filled to the brim with venom. “No. Will you please say something to her?”
You look to your father, vision blurred by the tears in your eyes. He rubs his hand down his face.
“Isn’t this a non issue?” He begins. “If Zeff won’t let her marry the damn kid, what’s the problem?”
Your mother throws her hands up in the air as if to surrender. “Right, because he’d say no if we went to him and said ‘hi Zeff, do you want your unruly, rude son who’s probably going to be impossible to marry off to marry into our wealthy, well-respected family?’”
“Don’t be rude to Sanji” you mutter, coming to your friend’s rescue being the only thing you can think to do. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“He gives customers concussions on a weekly basis! He’s a mess! He’s a waiter!”
“He’s a cook” you correct her. “He’s smart, and he’s kind, and he respects me unlike the half the morons you’ve tried to set me up with.”
Your mother points at you with a venomous look on her face. “Don’t you cop an attitude with me. Your father and I have been busting our butts for the last three years to try and find someone respectable for you to marry, someone that can take care of you, and the only time you ever show any interest in a man is for Sanji?”
“Honey, please-”
“Don’t” -your mother’s accusatory finger flies to point at your dad- “Defend her. We’ve given her everything she could ask for for the last nineteen years and now she’s trying to put me in an early grave.”
“You don’t think you’re overreacting a little bit?” Your father argues. “She has enough training to where she could become a marine if she wanted to and pay her own way. I don’t think it’s completely necessary to dictate who she marries if she proves she can take care of herself.”
“A woman’s husband is supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.”
“Is that why you married me?”
The room falls silent after your father’s words fall into the air. You can feel their weight as if it were you they were directed at, feel the way they must have slammed straight into your mother’s chest and taken her breath away. You almost feel sorry for her.
Your mother lowers her gaze, staring down at the expensive pair of shoes your father surely bought for her.
You look to your dad. He’s staring at your mother with intensity, his eyes dark. You’ve never heard your father raise his voice at your mother in nineteen years. He’s always soft with her, kind. It reminds you much of the way that Sanji is with you.
Finally, your mother looks back up and sighs. “I love you because you’re a strong man and you take care of me and our daughter.”
“And I love Sanji because he respects me and makes me feel safe. Is that not enough?” You interrupt, the tears now flowing down your cheeks in excess.
Your mother shakes her head. “That’s all well and good until you realize that love isn’t the only part of a relationship. There’s financial and domestic things you need to take into account.”
Your father rolls his eyes. “I just said that she can become a marine if she wants to. Does it bother you that much to have a man cooking for her and not the other way around?”
“It’s not the cooking that bothers me” she snaps back. “It’s the fact that she’s the breadwinner in their marriage. What happens when she has babies? Who works? Who makes money to take care of the kids?”
“What if we don’t want kids?”
Your mother audibly gasps. “Don’t even say things like that. You come from an honorable and respected family. Not having children is social suicide for a woman in politics.”
“Bold of you to assume I care about politics and social standing.”
“So you want to be the breadwinner for your cook husband, but you don’t care about the very thing that could provide you with money?”
You bury your head in your hands and sigh. There’s practically no reasoning with your mother when she gets like this. She’s always been one to make everything about herself.
Your career has to be good enough to maintain her social standing.
Your marriage has to be politically upward.
Your have to have children so she can have grandchildren.
There are days where you feel like it’s her world that you’re just living in. You’re sure your father often feels the same way, but it’s rare that he argues against her like this. It seems that his appreciation for your and Sanji’s friendship is bolstering him this evening.
“I can’t deal with this anymore” your mother grumbles.
You lift your head from your hands to find your mother exiting the room.
“Come find me when you’re done being immature” she announces, unclear when she’s talking about you or your father. “You are not marrying Sanji. Don’t ever suggest it again.”
With that, she’s gone, the door slamming shut behind her. She leaves behind the same emptiness she always leaves. It feels like awkwardness, but a little more wicked, a little more damaging. Just like always, all you can do is sit and wait for the feeling to end.
You and your father sit in silence for what feels like too long. Neither of you speak. Neither of you even look at each other. The only sound to be heard is the pattering of the light rain on the windows of your home.
“Hon?”
You look up to your dad. There’s a melancholy expression on his face that you’ve never seen.
“I’m sorry” he tells you quietly. “Why didn’t you come to me with this? Why didn’t you say something?”
It’s so sick that you nearly laugh. “She just reacted like that and you’re asking me why I didn’t tell you sooner?”
You dad looks down and chuckles. “I guess. Why didn’t you tell just me?”
You shrug. “I don’t exactly want to talk about the boy I have a crush on with my dad.”
He waves you over then, patting the spot on the couch beside him. You rise to your feet and join him. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you close the moment you sit down. He feels like home, smells like home. If you were to close your eyes, you could imagine falling asleep in the family room and waking to him carrying you to your room.
“I like Sanji” he tells you, bringing you out of your thoughts. “I do. I think he respects you and he’s a nice kid.”
“Then why does mom have such an issue with me having a crush on him?”
He shakes his head. “Your mother comes from money. The only thing she knows is what she was taught. You need to give her grace when you’re trying to assimilate her with different ways of thinking.”
You snort. “And you’re just okay with that?”
“No” he reveals. “But everyone has something. You need to learn to live with the flaws of whoever you marry.”
“That doesn’t seem right.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
You lean your head on your father’s shoulder. He hugs you close, giving a soft kiss on the top of your head.
“Dad?”
“Hm?”
You bury your face in his shoulder when you speak, hoping maybe that your words will be muffled enough so he wouldn’t hear you.
“I love him.”
“You okay, Pretty?”
You shake your head. “Sorry. Thinking.”
“What about, my darling?” Sanji wonders, the pet name making your head spin.
His voice is so sweet to you, gentle and soft like the warmth of crawling to bed after a long day. It’s your home, your comfort.
You lean your head on the edge if his bed, staring into those captivating blue eyes.
“Thinking about you” you tell him honestly. “You scared me, Sanji. You getting hurt is one thing, but you told me to leave you to die.”
He struggles then to roll onto his side. His groan is painful to you, making your already tired heart ache. He looks at you with sad eyes once he’s settled back in.
“I’m sorry, beautiful” he whispers. “My worst fear is something hurting you because of me. My worst nightmare is hurting you.”
You reach your hand to him and begin to trace little patterns on his arm. His eyes drift closed as you do, something resembling peace flooding his strained features.
“I will never leave you to die” you breathe. “Don’t ever ask me to again, Sanji.”
He appears to heed the seriousness in your voice, nodding his head. “Never again, my love.”
My love.
You could die. It would be less painful than this pulling in your heart, this desire to be with him, to touch him. You can lie all you want and say that you can handle the distance, handle the yearning, but it hurts. It’s hurt for ten years.
“Sanji?”
“Princess?”
You stroke the back of your finger down his cheek. He exhales, warm breath flooding over your palm.
“Are you sure you don’t remember anything about me finding you guys?” You press. “Nothing at all?”
He darts his eyes away, his lower lip falling between his teeth to be gently nibbled. You’d sell your soul for that to be your lip.
“No” he sighs. “Why? Did something else happen? You really don’t seem like yourself.”
Should you just let it go?
You shrug. “I…I don’t know if I should tell you, to be honest.”
He narrows his eyes. “If it’s bothering you, I’d like to know. I can fix whatever’s making you unhappy.”
It isn’t making you unhappy. It’s the one thing you’ve always wanted.
“You…”
“I?”
You can feel it now, the roughness of his lips, the warmth of his breath against your tongue in the bitter cold.
You crave it. You feel mad in wanting for it.
“Sanji, you kissed me” you blurt out, the words sounding foreign on your tongue. “You wanted me to come closer and I thought you were gonna say something to me, but you kissed me, and then Doctorine showed up and you passed out.”
A silence falls over the two of you once all your loud babbling is done. Sanji is white as a sheet, just staring through you as though you’re no longer in front of him. His mouth is slightly agape. Those eyes are blank, none of their usual joy swimming in them.
You pull your hand away from his cheek. “Sanji?”
His eyes seem to focus back on you. He swallows harshly before forcibly hiking himself up onto his elbow.
You lay a hand on his shoulder, trying gently to guide him back to bed.
He doesn’t budge.
“I…I kissed you?”
You nod.
“I” -he points to himself- “kissed you?”
“Yes” you clarify. “You kissed me. On the lips.”
He reaches his hand up and grips his hair. There’s panic in his eyes, terror that has drained all the color from every inch of his skin.
“I am so - I mean, I didn’t mean to…oh my Gods. I didn’t mean to offend you or-or upset you. Oh gods. I-”
You begin to softly hush him then, cutting off his panic. Your hand comes up to cradle his icy skin.
“Sanji” you soothe. “It’s fine. You didn’t offend me.”
He shakes his head. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was on the verge of tears.
“I am so, so sorry” he whispers. “I never meant to do anything like that without asking you. I don’t know what I was thinking, kissing you without your permission.”
You stroke your thumb along his cheek. “You have my permission.”
His eyes go so wide you swear they’re going to pop out of his head. “What?”
You heart is slamming. You can hear your blood flowing in your ears, but you ignore it.
“To kiss me” you tell him, your voice wavering. “You have my permission to kiss me again. If you want to, of course.”
From where your hand has wandered down to his neck, you can feel his pulse quickening with every passing second. He has no words for you. There’s pure shock washed over his eyes. His stare is glazed, locked on your face with a dropped jaw.
You try to give him a comforting smile.
“Can I kiss you?” You ask.
He licks his lips.
“Please. Please kiss me.”
You do as is requested of you. You close the distance, gently guiding Sanji’s lips to yours.
He doesn’t move at first, just lets you press your lips against his. They’re rough, dry. His mouth is hot, maybe from the fever, maybe from his insanely aggressive pulse.
He seems to catch on after a second. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek, pulling you closer so that he can truly feel you, taste you.
This can’t be happening right now. I’m kissing Sanji. I’m kissing the love of my life.
He hums into your lips. The vibration is stunning. You whine, leaning over the bed and letting your hand up into Sanji’s hair. You don’t care that it’s greasy. You don’t care that his teeth aren’t brushed and his skin is dry. He’s safe. He’s with you.
He’s kissing you.
The last thing you want to do is pull away from him, but you can feel his body beginning to shake from holding up his own weight. You pull your lips away only to have his give chase.
“Sanji” you giggle. “Come on. You need to lay down and rest.”
“I need to kiss you” he breathes. “I need to kiss you enough to make up for the last ten years of not kissing you, my sweet. I need to show you how much love I have bottled up for you.”
Your smile is so big that your jaw is starting to hurt. “Ji, I love you. We have a lot of time.”
He nuzzles his nose against yours. “I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I looked out the Baratie doors and saw you sitting there with your parents.”
You softly kiss the tip of his cold nose. “Lay down. Rest, my love.”
He gives a breathy chuckle. “Say that again.”
You shake your head, not quite understanding his words.
“My love?”
“Again.”
You kiss him before speaking against his lips. “My love.”
He finally, settles laying back down on his side and letting his head rest against the pillow. You rise to your feet.
“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” You wonder. “I don’t want to make it hard for you to sleep.”
He shakes his head, a nearly fearful expression on his face. “My queen should never sleep on the floor, not a day in her life. Get in bed.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You slide in beside him, his arm immediately coming up to wrap tightly around your waist.
It all feels right, perfect. His arm fits over you like a puzzle piece, like you were made to lay in the curve of his body.
“I love you, Sanji” you breathe.
He kisses the back of your head. “I love you. Rest. You deserve a good night of sleep.”
You snuggle even closer to Sanji, letting the beating of his heart lull you into your first sleep in days.
~
“You’ve barely slept in days.”
Nami puts her hands on your shoulders as she speaks, gently rubbing the aching muscles.
You shake your head. “I’m sleeping just fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“Vivi and I can help take care of him, you know” she reminds you, her voice softer than it normally is. “He’s much better behaved now that he’s actually getting attention from a woman.”
You laugh, reaching up to softly ruffle Nami’s hair. “I’ve got him. I’m not exactly complaining that I get to cuddle and massage my boyfriend all day long.”
Nami gives you a laugh, rolling her eyes. “First of all, ew. Second of all, what’s it like? I mean, I know you’ve had a crush on him since forever.”
You feel a hot blush rising to your cheeks. Though it’s been a few weeks now since you and Sanji first told the crew you were dating, you still find yourself getting flustered whenever someone brings it up.
You shrug. “It uh, it seems normal, weirdly enough. We’ve been best friends for so long that the only thing that’s really different is uh, well all the kissing, I guess.”
Nami wrinkles her nose, but the smile remains on her face. “That’s disgusting. I’m happy for you, though.”
You grab the little tray up off the counter that you’ve been filling with water, snacks for Sanji, and his medicine. “Thanks. I’m sorry we’ve been kind of invading the bedroom lately. I promise that as soon he can sleep on his back, he’s going back to the boy’s room.”
She waves you off. “I don’t care. If he dies we have to go back to eating Zoro’s food. No one wants that.”
“Of course” you tell her, trying to stifle the laugh that’s coming up from your throat. “Tell everyone we’ll be up for dinner in a bit. I’m gonna wake him up.”
Nami nods, leaving you then as she makes her way from the kitchen.
Despite Sanji’s injuries, the last few weeks have been soft, peaceful. You spend your days cuddled in bed beside him, rubbing his back and listening to him tell you stories Zeff used to read to him as a little boy. You make him food and nap at his side. When he gets bored, the two of you head up to the deck where you bask together in the sun.
Sanji is napping away when you enter your bedroom. He snores softly, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, both long legs sticking out from under the duvet.
You smile. This is all you’ve wanted, all you’ve ever dreamed of. Sanji has been your safety since you were just a child. You’ve never been satisfied dating, no one ever able to make you feel the way Sanji has made you feel. He’s stolen your heart, loved you so much. Who could ever compete?
You set the tray of Sanji’s refreshments on your bedside table and reach a hand out to gently jostle his shoulder.
“My love?” You hum. “Sweetheart, you need to get up and take your medicine so we can go have dinner.”
He yawns, one eye peeking open to look up at a you. Instantly, a smile lights up his face.
Gods, he’s your sun and stars.
“Hi” he begins. “How long was I sleeping?”
“A few hours. It was adorable. You were snoring.”
He scrunches up his nose, unable to hide the blush that rushes to his cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Pretty. Do I keep you up with the snoring?”
You shake your head. “I love it. It reminds me that you’re next to me.”
The blush grows. You’ve loved seeing how much you can fluster him in the last few weeks. The smallest compliments make him blush. He whines and keens into every little kiss, every touch. It makes you want to kiss him until you die.
“Come on” you urge him. “You need to put something in your stomach and take your meds. Dr. Chopper’s orders.”
He snorts and hauls himself up until he’s leaning against your headboard. “The reindeer is a doctor. We’re gonna let the reindeer do surgery on us?”
You cock an eyebrow. “The reindeer already did surgery on you.”
Your lover visibly shudders. “With his hooves?”
“Worse. With his deer-man hands.”
Sanji leans his head back against the wall and groans, eliciting a booming laugh from your chest.
“Come on” you prod him. “It’s not that weird.”
He glances at you with faux terror in his eyes. “It is that weird” he assures you. “The reindeer saw me naked.”
“Chopper saw your ass.”
Another horrified groan, another belly laugh.
Gods, have you missed this goofy side of Sanji. There’s been a bit of a melancholic side to him for the last little while, maybe even since your journey with the crew began. You had always just brushed it off as homesickness, but in the days since he’s begun his bed-rest recovery, he’s been back to his charming, silly self.
“I love you when you’re like this” you inform him, flopping down on your belly beside him.
He downs the medication Chopper gave him before tilting his head at you. “Like what?”
“Happy. Rested.”
He looks down into his hands then, seeming to consider your words. On one hand, you know that the last few weeks have been a little anxiety inducing for him. Your other crew mates have had no choice but to start helping out in the kitchen, and losing control over his most sacred space always leaves Sanji in a sour mood.
On the other hand, you know he was desperately in need of some rest. He doesn’t lay his head down at night until he’s sure the kitchen is thoroughly cleaned and the next day’s breakfast is prepped. He wakes up before the sun to ensure that everyone on the crew has hot coffee and a filling breakfast the instant they roll out of bed.
He lays his hand on your cheek then, beginning to stroke your lips with his thumb. His hands smell strange, like berries and summer.
Was he using the hand cream in your bedside table?
“I don’t wanna go back to sleeping in the idiot room” he tells you, the insult coming off his lips so softly, so sweetly. “How am I supposed to sleep alone when I know the most beautiful woman in the world is sleeping right down the hall? How can I go back to waking up to Zoro’s ugly mug when I’ve been seeing you every morning?
You kiss the calloused fingers that are running along your lips.
(Yes, he’s been stealing your hand cream.)
“When you do your watches at night, we’ll have slumber parties” you propose. “We’ll drink tea and eat snacks.”
He smiles. “As much as I adore the idea of tea under the stars together, there’s nothing I’ll miss more than holding you while you sleep.”
You smile. As much as you want Sanji better, you hate that he’ll be leaving your room in the next few nights. You spent so long dreaming he was beside you only to wake in despair, clutching at your pillows as if you could magically pull him from the sheets. The thought of being in that place again, reaching to hold him and finding nothing but a cold bed is enough to make you panic just a bit.
“I’ll ask Nami if I can have weekly sleepovers” you decide. “I’ll pay her. She’ll probably love that.”
Sanji boops the tip of your nose. “A genius idea, my brilliant love.”
You glance at the clock on the wall then, the sudden twinge in your stomach reminding you that the two of you are late for dinner.
“Come on” you urge him, swinging your legs off the bed and stretching your arms up over your head. “Let’s go eat dinner. Luffy’s gonna eat everything before we have a chance to have any.”
Sanji gives a melodramatic frown then. “Hm. Can I stay here and kiss you instead? Your lips are better than anything Moss can throw together.”
Oh, that’s tempting. Over the last few weeks, Sanji has been nothing but chaste and a gentleman with you. He doesn’t touch until he’s told he can. He doesn’t kiss you with any sort of vigor until you’ve signaled it’s alright. He holds your hand. He holds doors open for you. He pulls chairs out for you. Unbelievably to you, getting him to make out with you the few times he has took a bit of effort. He feared that every movement of his hands would scared you off. He was worried you wouldn’t like the taste of his lips, the way his tongue moved, the roughness of his hands.
He tasted like cigarettes and mint.
The two of you had a good laugh about your best friend’s tongue all the sudden being in your mouth.
The calloused skin of his hands reminded you of every dish he’d ever cooked for you, every fight he’d ever fought to protect you.
“I wish” you tell him. “I think they’re all going to grab a drink at that pub in town after dinner. I’ll volunteer to watch the ship, and we can spend some time together.”
His smile, somehow, grows.
If you could spend the rest of your life staring at the joy on his face, you would.
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mmmm for the alphabet can I choose yandere Luffy with H , J , O , Q , V 🍪 anon pretty please 🙏
Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?
I've kinda covered this in this post under N.
Outside of that, the worst thing that you'll experience is the crushing realization of how trapped you are. The sense of dread that hits you from how inescapable Luffy is will be devastating.
Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?
Not strongly, any jealousy he does have is pretty mild. It most comes out when you spend more time with other crewmates over him. He'll wrap around you while pouting and asking why you're ignoring him. Whoever you were spending time with will take the hint to leave, and Luffy will happily carry you off to do something together.
He doesn't get jealous from romantic rivals. If he sees someone trying to hit on you, it makes him get protective because he thinks that person is making you uncomfortable even if they aren't. He'll casually knock them the hell out and then act as if nothing happened.
Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?
For the most part, none. You're able to travel the world on his ship, make friends with the crew, and you're still actively pursuing your dream... Just with him by your side. The only thing you don't have the freedom to do is end your relationship with him.
Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?
Escapes never last long. Luffy can and will follow you to the end of the earth. If your escape attempt lasts under a day, he'll just kind of act like nothing happened while keeping a tight grip on you for the rest of the day. If you manage to keep your distance for longer then that, you're going to be thrown into isolation as soon as he gets his hands on you.
If you die, it hits him hard. He beats himself up about not being able to protect you or provide you with whatever you needed to live. He feels like a failure for not being able to save another person that he cared about, and it takes him a while to bounce back. But, he will eventually. He'll slowly return to his usual self and go about life, but you'll always be a part of it. He has a shrine for you on the ship, and he visits it every day to tell you about what's happening in your absence. He never moves on from you romantically. He's loyal to you even in death.
Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?
Given that he can't go a week without fighting an overpowered tyrant, you'll honestly have plenty of opportunities to try and give him the slip. It's still not easy because the other Straw Hats will be keeping an eye on you for him, but this is your only real shot at escaping.
#monkey d luffy#luffy#monkey d luffy x reader#one piece#yandere one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#yandere#yandere alphabet#x reader#reader insert
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anyway i started writing a qpr buddie/bucktommy post-s7 fic that i may or may not finish but that's what sparked this meta. here's part of a scene from that fic with the same idea:
“Look, man…” Eddie trails off but Tommy waits as he gathers his thoughts. “I don’t know what this is. I don’t- I don’t think I’m into Buck. Not… the same way you are, anyway. But I really like this. I think I need this. I need him.”
Tommy brings a hand up to cup Eddie’s face and shit, that feels nice too. “I know you do. I don’t mind, I promise. You’re not a burden. We’re not just putting up with you. We want you here, okay? We care about you. We both do.” He keeps Eddie in place as he presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “You got that?”
Eddie nods. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Tommy says, like this is the most normal situation in the world. Then his eyebrows furrow and he gets serious. “Eddie, real life doesn’t look the way we were brought up to believe it does. It’s not neat and clean and one-size-fits-all. It’s weird and messy, and every attempt to force ourselves to fit the mold we think we’re supposed to just makes us miserable. Trust me: I dated women until I was thirty, even though I knew pretty early on that I couldn’t be happy with them. I kept trying because that’s what I thought I was supposed to want; what I needed to do to be accepted. For so long I felt broken, and I kept hoping I could find a woman who would fix me. Eventually, I had to just be honest with myself.”
The and so do you goes unspoken, but Eddie hears it anyway. Tommy doesn’t bullshit and he also doesn’t pull any punches. Eddie feels like he’s been hit in the throat and he can barely breathe.
“Do you think I’m gay?” Eddie asks in a small voice.
For a moment, Tommy just looks at him; sympathetic but not pitying. Steadying, somehow. The look of someone who has been where Eddie is now and knows exactly how difficult the journey forward is going to be.
“That’s not a question I can answer for you,” Tommy says as he strokes his thumb along Eddie’s cheekbone. “But I do think your attempts at unquestioned heterosexuality are making you miserable. I think you need to sit down with yourself, maybe with a therapist, and really think about your own truth. Do you like women? Do you like men? Do you like both? Or neither? When have you experienced genuine attraction? What does that feel like for you? What does a happy life look like to you? Strip away all the notions you have about what you’re supposed to do, what you’re supposed to feel. What do you want, really?”
Eddie doesn’t have an answer to a single one of those questions. Standing in his best friend’s boyfriend’s house, his best friend’s boyfriend—his friend—cupping his face, his body warm and loose from hours of cuddling with both of them, Eddie feels so unrecognizable to himself.
He likes this. It’s comfortable with Buck and Tommy; far more so than the intimacy he’d forced himself to have with his last two girlfriends. Never, ever in his adult life—not since he was fourteen years old and blushing at Shannon for the first time—has he ever considered finding intimacy in anyone other than a mother for his son.
But he likes this.
How well does Eddie know himself, really? Who is Eddie, outside of fatherhood? Who is Eddie, outside of the expectations he was raised with? The expectations he has clung to like a too-small piece of driftwood in the terrifying churning seas of life, because it’s been easier than letting the waves take him. Expectations he doesn’t want to let go of even now.
But he has to. He has to do something because his son is gone. His son left him voluntarily because of a mess that Eddie has no one to blame for but himself; a mess no one can clean up but himself. A mess that Eddie allowed to accumulate because he is in denial about something. He just doesn’t know what.
It would be so easy to lay it all at Shannon’s feet; to say he’s a wreck because Shannon wanted a divorce and died and he never allowed himself to truly accept the first as he grappled with the pain of the second. But if Eddie is honest, he knows there’s more going on than that.
He feels his eyes fill with tears as the driftwood floats away and the saltwater engulfs him.
“I don’t know,” Eddie admits. “I don’t know how to be happy.”
Tommy makes a small noise and folds Eddie into his chest; holds him while he cries. His arms are strong and big around Eddie—safe. It’s not the same way Buck makes him feel safe, not known and understood and loved to the core, but he feels safe nonetheless. Sturdy. Held.
“It’s okay,” Tommy assures him. “You don’t have to know right now. But you do need to stop forcing yourself to date people you don’t want to. You do need to think about what you want. And we’ll be here for you while you do. I wish I could tell you it’s not going to hurt, but it is. Lean on us for anything you need. Trust us to hold you up.”
Despite everything, Eddie does.
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