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[erinelizabethh]

Time Slip | Chai x Reader (7/10)

Summary: Chai, ambassador of Vandelay Technologies, certainly has his ways of communication. You, living in the suburbs outside the campus, don't even have a cell phone. You know what they say about relationships…

Chapter One: Time Slip

Chapter Two: #E67451

Chapter Three: Daisies

Chapter Four: Sweet Dreams

Chapter Five: Synesthesia

Chapter Six: On Mercury

Chapter Seven: One of These Nights

*slight sexual content ahead*

It’s nothing. It’s whatever.

So you thought to yourself: are you reading this correctly? Your thoughts were of the utmost importance, so much that you left behind the comfort of your blankets and onto the floor where your thoughts could remain better situated. With a squint, as the bright screen of your cell reflected the lack of illumination in your apartment, the rather rude message was but an inch from your irises. The bubbles are prolonged, enlightened by your lack of response, and the meaning causes you to seethe. “What does that even mean?” You ask nobody, looseleaf paper torn from your notebook crumpled up inside your fist as the words sitting at the tip of your pen disappear with the distance between you and your pen pal. With the point of contact on an errand, as a result of your pleas that fast food chicken nuggets sound delicious at two o’clock in the morning, the context and tone of that message is lost to you. You hope it buries itself into the heart of the man who should rethink what he says, and perhaps unsend.

Whatever? You type. Do you think I’m stupid?

You pause. Stupid.

The pen, however, is mightier than any name you can call him at this point. Can you believe that? I feel when a guy says it’s nothing it’s really, like, everything. He’s being so weird about it. I mean he is the first guy I’ve dated with a robotic arm so that’s something but he doesn’t talk about it. His friends are all weird about it too… it’s like it’s some forbidden topic that gets him fucked up. Sorry. For ‘cussing’. Again. Anyway, he’s twenty-six years old and I’m sure we’re grown enough to talk about our pasts like adults. Like, if he came back right now, I’d definitely tell him all about my past boyfriends and… no I won’t actually. I will not do that. That’s embarrassing. Especially because I perhaps may have told him I wanted to be left alone so go me. I make smart decisions.

You were pushing the subject again, like Peppermint warned you not to, through text no less. You could not help your eyes lingering on the scars that burdened Chai’s back when he pried himself from your arms, his shoulders stiff with prior events. He relished in your return when your fingertips traced the delicates of his upper back, your lips pressed against a beauty mark that freckled him with love. As your forehead fell against him, his hand grasped at yours pressed against his chest; with a twirl of your arm and the dip of your body against his, he pecked your lips before a cheeky: “Babe I’d so serenade you if it wasn’t for those delicious cheeseburgers calling for me.” His feline friend, once curled up in a ball atop her cat tower, zoomed to the front door upon the aspect of leaving on an adventure. When Chai pulled you to your feet, one swipe of his nose against yours and he was no longer facing you, his back once again on display as he shot finger guns at a cat standing on her hind legs to return the favor.

Cute. You were still a dog person, though.

“Baby where’s my—” He threw a glance over his shoulder, his head falling to his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Are you on your… y’know…”

You cry out in frustration, your fists clenched. Of course he shrugs you off, choosing to hide the identity of the Chai before he became one of the faces of Vandelay Technologies. Of course he doesn’t trust you enough to recall those events, how tragic they must have been because why would he tell you? After all, you’re just some girl he must be on the brink of moving on from… you’re overthinking again. A nasty habit of yours, you think, considering his clothes are thrown beside your underwear and the pillow beside yours is fluffed in a way that refuses you sleep. His guitar leans against the cushion of your loveseat, once strummed with picks that litter your end table and douse it with color. That guitar sits beside a scarf that 808 loves to rest her paws on when she grows tired of the toy mice that are spread out all over your rug. However, you’re just some girl whose space he happens to share with, someone of whom you believe to be insignificant, boring, and out of time. With a shake of your head, your hands trail down and stretch at the skin of your cheeks, loathing at the eleven months with him that border on the best eleven months of your life. You can’t help but groan with mist in your eyes, body deflating as you subject yourself to inhales through your nostrils that are ragged and stuffed with impending sniffles.

Your phone chimes. Oi. Korsica. I need flowers.

Pepper. Mint. Peppermint.

Peps.

Wtf do I get her? Korsica unsent a message. Ask Chai please. 

You sigh, your response slow and steady, incorrect letters in between. You return to your side of your bed, the cool air a blanket over the array of knit sunflowers you sit on. The peonies beyond the crack of your window sway to your right, cars with the Vandelay logo driving at a speed beyond the limit to disturb an otherwise mundane night. Those headlights are blinding, illuminating the suncatcher that hangs above your head and paints the moon and the stars all over your skin. They flicker like following a person’s footsteps, and one car halts in front of your building with a bass that hums and rattles your bones. The neon glows along the lines of the vehicle, fading in and out to different colors, the person inside dumbfounded upon the wrong turn toward the suburbs. 

Your peace is disturbed by a, “I’m not stupid, I’m a dumbass!” Chai slams the door open to your apartment, no chicken nuggets or cat in sight. His breaths are a struggle for air, but he begins the revelation with a hurried, “I killed Kale Vandelay who, plot twist, was Peppermint’s brother! And— and I have this cool implant in my chest that makes everything sync to me ‘cause of this thing—I dunno if you know Project Armstrong—but the guy threw my music player and it got stamped to my chest or… or something and so I got this really cool arm ‘cause fun fact I actually did not have any feeling in this arm right here before and so I ended up having to kill all of these crazy bosses ‘cause it turns out Kale actually used this weird AI thing to take over bodies and that’s where Roxanne—”

“What? Chai, wha— what are you even talking about?”

His body shakes as the distance between you decreases, and you eye the trembling of his hands as they brush against your face. Chai’s breathing is ragged like yours was, and he then clutches his chest as if alluding to his sprint back home to you. He huffs and puffs out pleas that you hold on just one second, just let him get it together, and in that one second he raises one finger to confirm that yes, indeed, he’ll be but a second. He radiates the heat you’ve missed in the time he was away, despite the chill that floods his lungs, and your fingertips itch to be linked with his once more.

So he goes on, your question above your heads like vapor, sputtering out the facts of people you only heard in passing conversations and observed on billboards tainting your small town. Chai holds up fingers as if counting down the obstacles: the head of production, the head of research and development, Korsica, the head of marketing, the head of finance, the head head… the name that sticks out the most beside of the known redhead’s is Mimosa’s, whose face is plastered on every bus and train you step on. Her luscious, blonde locks were the standard years ago, so evident that customers in your flower shop would share the hairstyle despite blonde not at all being their color. You can’t dwell on that thought for long, for he chronicles his battles as if he were the protagonist of some role-playing game, taking hits and dealing with them along with the beat to his own drum. He was the star of the show, the main character of a daydream, and you owned a flower shop and wailed off-key and off-beat in the shower. It was only a matter of time before he thought you too boring, too mundane, and walked away toward a life that was certainly more exhilarating.

Chai cups your cheeks in his hands when you shake your head. The thought of him leaving you behind terrifies you. His thumbs traced the line of tears that fell before tapping at your lips with an implied shush. “Lemme finish! Anyway I had to fight like a crazy amount of robots ‘cause Kale took ‘em over along with the others and yeah, I almost died but I beat him and I saved everyone and you’re right. You’re right! It’s not nothing, it’s not whatever, it’s something that I want you to know about me ‘cause I wanna know everything about you ‘cause I kinda’ love you… scratch that, forget what I said.”

“I love you.”

He blinks, flexing the cool metallic of his fingers. “Also I have this super awesome weapon. We can take the bad boy for a test drive if you want…”

Your gaze passes by the rise and fall of his chest, by the dust of pink across his cheeks. When they align with his own, you bear witness to a truth that can’t be rescinded. His laugh trails off into racing thoughts, judging by the way he commits to eyeing at your rug. The chestnut hues of his irises are dimmed by the shadow of your ceiling, the sunrise edging past the lower half of his body with the minutes that pass with no words being shared. He tests the silence with: “Wow. I, uh… the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” He cages you between him and daybreak, the repeating silence evident with the words said, deafening with the implications; he loves you, so that must mean he can’t imagine a life without you. 

What does it mean?

“Chai, c’mon… you kidding me?” You sniff, unable to resist the trembles that wrack your body, unable to refrain from the attempts to push him away. His grip on you is unwavering, however. “What is wrong with you?”

“N-N-No, you’re supposed to laugh at me, not cry! Maybe tell me you love me too? You love me, right? Ya’ gotta tell me you’re feeling some way about me.” Your name follows. “Baby, please. You feel the same way… right?”

You nod, and the first declaration of love out of you is but a whisper, said again once your confidence grows. “Yes, Chai, I love you.”

He surges forward to press his lips against yours, breaths leaving his nose in slow, deep exhales. Your left cheek is chill with the remnants of morning dew on his cool, metal fingertips but his mouth is warm over yours and you’re swallowed whole. His strength cranes your neck back, longing to envelop you with lips that search for every part of yours in desperation, and you surrender yourself to him even when the breaths are so far in between. The taste of salt remains on your tongue, but Chai exhibits his love next by nipping at your tastebuds and wrapping his arms around you to pull you further into his embrace. Your chest pressed against his, your tongues interlock in a hypnotizing dance; the hum that escapes you elicits one from your lover.

He pulls his lips an inch from yours, low huffs gliding across your cupid’s bow. Your hands fall to his sides, sliding up his shirt, bunched up white cotton rolled up into your fist. His hands mimic your movements all over your lower back, and his voice lowers to a tone unheard of him. When he tells you how hard it is to breathe, yet how much he can’t stop kissing you, what leaves you is a pathetic whimper. The feeling is mutual but you have no complaints. Your lips are dry with his scrutiny, quivering as he brushes his against yours like a feather grazing your skin. What fogs your brain is the thought of his shirt over his head and messing with tufts of brown hair you will ruin later anyway.

“Y-You, uh— umm—”

You’re breathless when you confirm, and you all but give into him when he hurries you into the entanglement of your body against his.

That took pretty long, but I think you’ll be stoked to hear I finally told him I love him. I sent you two letters to chronicle the night I had so, like, I hope you read that other one first. It was a great night. We’re just gonna leave it at that. Anyway, you’ve said before you know him from somewhere right? He’s, like, the ambassador for Vandelay Technologies. Isn’t that crazy? They’ve only started putting him up everywhere, though, so I guess the switchover happened recently. I kinda don’t get how I won him over; I guess it was my anxiety of being alone and the scent of my flowers. Regardless, I feel as if I understand him so much better now. It’s nice. I hope he stays with me. I hope his friends like me. I hope one day you can come by and we can really meet and you can meet him too. You’d probably like him, Rekka.

Reply soon! So much is happening and I need someone to talk to!! 

P.S. I got a phone now. Please give me your number.

[erinelizabethh]

Time Slip | Chai x Reader (6/10)

Summary: Chai, ambassador of Vandelay Technologies, certainly has his ways of communication. You, living in the suburbs outside the campus, don't even have a cell phone. You know what they say about relationships…

Chapter One: Time Slip

Chapter Two: #E67451

Chapter Three: Daisies

Chapter Four: Sweet Dreams

Chapter Five: Synesthesia

Chapter Six: On Mercury

The liquor slid down your throat finally, once trapped brushing over your taste buds when the Vandelay sister excused herself from the bar and took you with her. Sure, you could have took some cues from the drama class you forced yourself to take during your freshman year; perhaps then you could have spared the other two from assuming you couldn’t take it by nearly spitting it out all over the countertop. Peppermint, upon your wince and your lips flattening, fished around in the pockets of her cyan flannel to hand you a tiny bottle of tequila with a: “Here, you’re gonna need it.” You echo her sentiment with a whisper under the buzzing of flickering lamps above your head, nonetheless screwing off the lid, clinking the bottle with her own, and downing it in one shot. The bathroom wall is chill against your scalp as the buzz began to envelop you, your groan insignificant to the cries of frustration from the woman before you. Behind you was all of the action, beyond those doors music deafening to the ears and parties looking for a thrill or someone to spend the night with. Too loud, too overstimulating, but your boyfriend promised to make the night worth it by opening a tab under his account and then following the excitement with a night at your apartment. A night undoubtedly beginning with him rolling you up into a burrito under a blanket that was once his, with your cheeks squished against his as you two watch an action movie… his choice. You couldn’t help but count the minutes even if the alcohol turned minutes into seconds.

The idea to invite Korsica and Peppermint was not yours, nor was it entirely unwelcome. No double date was planned but the hang out of four friends; two of you so happened to be dating, and it would’ve been really cool if we were dating and all of us could go on, like, double dates, according to Chai. That would actually be pretty dope, you would respond. No one says that anymore hun. Say it with me: cool. Peppermint and Chai just so happened to frequent this place, the crowd practically anticipating their arrival, with the man swearing that one day this will be his first gig in show biz. You count yourself fortunate that no one followed the two of you into the bathroom, most likely instead fawning over…

You stiffened. “Don’t you and Korsica work together?”

“Something like that,” she began, hands gripping at the edges of the sink. “But—“

You huffed. “So what’s the issue?”

“The issue—“ Her grip tightened before she balled her hands into fists. Your gaze shuffled to her knuckles, her skin white with exertion, and you find her gaze again. “The issue is that I think I already love her.”

A lot to unpack there, but no time; your phone vied for your attention from the pocket of your jeans, no doubt your boyfriend in search for updates. His best friend knew this, was positive that was him, and she looked to you and shook her head in a plea for you to hear her out. “We’ve hooked up once before,” she revealed to you. Your eyes were wide with the revelation and her gaze found your pocket, no doubt aware of where your head was. The response was: “Don’t tell him or I’ll kill you,” and no matter the outcome of the night, that was now one less thing to giggle with him about. Peppermint confiding in you was an honor, however, and was a pact you intended not to break. Chai would not know unless, well, that buzz progressed a bit further than feeling nice.

She sighed, handing you another bottle. “We were drunk.” Before she took her swig, she raised an eyebrow at your posture leaning to your left. “You still with me?”

You paused, raising the rum above your head. “Cheers to being drunk and hooking up I guess.”

Chai was always too oblivious to notice it. To you, it was evident: the passing of glances from the two, the swift return to routine with but a brush of red on their cheeks. Peppermint, unable to process such emotions, would take it out on her roommate by jostling at his shoulders for reasons she should be long used to. Korsica would utter her name and seem deep in thought as if she was dwelling on how it sounded on her tongue. The affinity for the candy was sudden, as if the very plant itself reminded her of her crush. The hopeless romantic in you couldn’t help but think it was more than a crush; a love blossoming was more like it, well beyond of you and your boyfriend’s.

Oh, now you were feeling nice. You smiled. “You should just be natural. I think she, uh, likes you natural.”

The trek to the highest point of the dome was not an effortless one, and was not without its disadvantages: your knees aching and cracking as you threw your leg over one ledge after another. Your vision blurs when you blink and you do miss a step or two, but you nonetheless make it with a few cackles from your lover. It is only when you and Chai reach the surface that his eyes shut and he presses his lips against yours, streetlight overhead casting a shadow over lips hungry for affection. Your hand rests on his knee when he does so, the warm yellow hues enveloping the two of you on top of the world. The autumn breeze slithers up your sweater causing your body to quiver against the cool metal of the jungle gym, and Chai in response drags you toward his embrace by wrapping his arms around you and sharing his heartbeat with yours. His lips are cold, his breath escaping past him and dissolving into mist, but he continues to shower you with kisses that tempt you with a good time. With the prior decision for the four of you to abandon the bar at Peppermint’s request, you and Chai bask in the indulgences of a past once carefree and abundant with uncertainty. 

He distracts you so much that the couple below you is forgotten, and your mission to third wheel a romance about to blossom is all but abandoned when Chai’s fingers grasp at your chin to focus your attention back at him. The second it takes the distance to grow between the two of you is the same as the second your boyfriend does not take for granted; he captures your lips once more before asking: “Wanna climb up that one?” Behind you is a dome twice the height of the one you two are situated on, and his response to your rebuff and your proclamation that he absolutely cannot make it up there is a smooth, “I bet I can.” However, Chai is lazy and it nonetheless shrouds his confidence; the man does not move, nor does he make the effort to be apart from you.

“Chai, do you think—“

“That they’re definitely over us kissing? Yes! I do.”

You groan. “That this double date worked?”

“Ohhh! Right… prolly not.” However, he sneaks a peek over your shoulder, and he grins. “Or maybe…”

You expect the two of them to huff below you, feet planted on the ground as their eyes roll to the back of their heads with the obscenity of the two of you lip-locking. You expect to turn and find them throwing their hands up and stomping to the truck, grumbling about how much of a waste of time today was. When Chai grips at your chin to steer you towards his line of vision, you find the two lovebirds against the trunk of Peppermint’s truck as their lips touch for the first time. If you squint, you can feast your eyes on the beauty that is Korsica’s hands cupping her lover’s cheeks; their noses touch, and you’re reminded of the first kiss you and Chai shared all of those months ago.

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right! Can’t believe we pulled that off!” His hand is raised, awaiting a high-five, but your fingers instead intertwine with his. He says your name, fingers tracing his own across the cloth that warms your thigh. You eye at the hairs that stand in response to his touch, at the metallic that pricks at the thread of your jeans as he spells out another word in time with the swift waving of your hand clasped with his.

He then shakes his head and goes: “Nah. Just counting myself lucky.”

Three words. That’s all it takes.

You give him four. “Move in with me.”

[erinelizabethh]

do the Chai lovers still exist

[erinelizabethh]

I need a tavern brawl where Karlach hears someone insult Tav or cat call them and she’s enraged because no one should ever even think about Tav like that and she growls and—

[erinelizabethh]

[erinelizabethh]

i had such a nice summary for this story idea I had… for Friday Night Funkin’ no less

[erinelizabethh]

ME WJEN NEW TIME SLIP :DDDDDDDDDD I was grinning like an idiot the whole chapter

Also for clarification this is before the first "I love you"? And thats why Pep is annoyed? Sorry I'm just bad with context sometimes :p

This is before the first I love you!!! I totally get that the way I write can be a little confusing sometimes so maybe I can work on that!! I’m so excited that you’re excited oh my goodness

I write for funsies and to see people react to my stuff is soooo nice 🥹 I’m so glad you’re enjoying my story, I really hope to finish something for once starting with him!!! I have plans already for the next two or three chapters so I hope you stay along for the ride!!! Thank you so much ❤️❤️

[erinelizabethh]

Time Slip | Chai x Reader (5/?)

Summary: Chai, ambassador of Vandelay Technologies, certainly has his ways of communication. You, living in the suburbs outside the campus, don't even have a cell phone. You know what they say about relationships...

Chapter One: Time Slip

Chapter Two: #E67451

Chapter Three: Daisies

Chapter Four: Sweet Dreams

Chapter Five: Synesthesia

When the sun begins to set is when Chai begins to squeeze at your fingers like the beat that grants him life. One heartbeat, two heartbeats… a song from the late seventies that he begs you to never skip when you tune into the radio. He swings your arm back and forth with the tune, walking with a swagger unlike you, basking in the summer breeze that caresses your skin and draws out the beauty marks and imperfections–a sketch across your skin. The glances up and down is the tell, except his eyes don’t gloss over the flush of red all over your face. Yours can’t help but notice, the casual, “Me and a pretty girl out on a date? Who would’ve thought… and she’s my girlfriend!” sinking into your stomach like butterflies.

 The date is like your first, with the visit to that same cafe except Chai wills himself to order a pumpkin spice latte he mentioned seconds ago released too early. However, his tongue relishes in the whipped cream reduced to foam atop his drink; the man raises his free hand to slurp at the topping before groaning in satisfaction. His eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and you imagine the reaction is amplified by the fact that the two drinks did not come out of his wallet. His hand does not let go of yours, the two of you across an overpass that overlooks the sun in the distant horizon. The time of day calls for a movie night, perhaps at a local theater where the experience is so real and imperfect and humans provide the service.

He pulls you along the sidewalk of the overpass but you halt your movements to observe the trail of train tracks descend towards a sky of violet hues and summer blues. The path grows narrow as the distance between increases, and behind the two of you is the sound of a drawn out horn. Your gaze is through holes of a fence, a wall before you dragging you from the unknown. What is now is the garden of tulips that surround you, the scent that represents the present more than any other invention that attempts to replicate what is real. What is real is the arm that hangs over your shoulder, following your gaze out into the distance, as real as the refuge Chai provides you.

You hum, and because that doesn’t get his attention, you call out his name. “You gotta’ take me to that place. Y’know, with the view.”

His arms wrap around your shoulders, his chin resting on your left. “That’s off limits but I guess I can take you.”

So he does. The route there is as mundane as the life he lived as a child, a conclusion you jump to upon the tapping of his feet on the train car floor. His prosthetic taps at the metal bar above your head, regardless of the huffs that escape you, yet they falter at the first sight at the place he calls home: the campus that houses him and his roommate Peppermint. The buildings, although imitating, tower above the railway with the interest in housing for those desiring to be close to work. Ahead of you is the spot you have dreamed of since the photo Chai sent you of him and his friends with the ocean behind them; the shine of the sun’s rays across the water is a sight you want to experience for the rest of your life. Perhaps there is the romantic getaway the hopeless romantic in you have always wished for.

You don’t think there’s a sight that can compare, especially because the tips of the grass glows and tickles at your ankles with a sway that rivals Chai’s incessant rocking. You taste the breeze atop your lips, the chill brushing past a cupid’s bow chewed on the more Chai reminds you how much you are loved… without saying it, of course. You scramble to your knees, to embrace the tufts of grass in your fists, to savor the distance between you and the sun setting to meet you. Ten steps forward and it is you against the ocean, waves crashing against the rocks below as the ascent to reach you begins. Nothing is past your vision except the possibilities and the stories untold; you haven’t a clue what is out there, and perhaps that is what’s most exciting.  The young man behind you throws his hands up in the air as if to say, “Welp, this is it!” yet he underestimates the glimpse of the wonders of the world he bestowed to you.

“You like it, huh? Did good, right babe?” He then sits beside you, a guitar he picked up from a nearby rock resting atop his crossed legs. The streaks of red and white are his match, as are the stickers he slapped on with the most notable being a holographic black cat and a fragment of you outlined as a flower. Chai’s shoulders are relaxed, a sigh escaping past the grin that cements itself on his lips. When his eyes begin to glisten, no doubt the reason being the attempt to see the world in your eyes, he turns to find you sparing a glance at him at the corner of your eye. You share the sentiment, your vision shuffling to the guitar in his embrace, and your smile grows with the shade of pink that warms up his face. 

With a hurried strum of his guitar, he warns you with a, “This isn’t finished, but—” He shakes his head. “I really want you to hear it.”

Synesthesia is the name of his work in progress. He looks into your eyes as he begins, a gaze so tender that it’s as if the song is written for you, and you edge closer as if the warmth stems from only him. His voice is soft, low enough that the waves crawling towards the bottom of the cliff threaten to drown out his tune. He whispers at times, mumbling words here and there, and he remedies his nerves by closing his eyes and allowing his body to sway with the chords. The grass follows his movements, and what surrounds you two is an audience that resonate with Chai’s words so much they sing along ever so quietly, a murmur swallowed whole by your humming. As if familiar with the song, a chorus is raised around the two of you as the outro begins, the wind picking up despite the heat nipping at your skin.

When we're together, I'm all the color

When we're together, I'm all the color

When we're together, I'm all the color

You repeat the lyric back to him, effortless enough to memorize. Your lips are centimeters from his when he opens his eyes again, your vision flickering to his lips wet with anticipation. Like yours, they begin to flutter close with what’s about to come, both of you confident that the two of you will align with a kiss that is as perfect as this view. This one promises to be different from the rest, edging toward the abstract of love without the words being spoken. You imagine it’s another step toward that three word phrase, one you’ve said so many times and too quickly for your own good. His breath hot on the tip of your nose, his hand threads itself past the knots in your hair to the back of your head, pulling you close. For now, you can tell him you love this, that you love that it seems as if each kiss will be better than the last. You hope it’s enough for him, if you remind him that—

“Oh dear! It looks like we’ve interrupted something between Mister Chai and Miss—”

Chai groans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight of his trusted friends. Peppermint is the first to approach you two, followed by her love interest Korsica, their guardian Macaron, and his whimsical analyst CNMN. Of course, 808 follows suit with a nuzzle against Chai’s back, vying for his attention once again. However sheepish the big guy is, Macaron tends to the curiosity of his friends by tagging along with an apology and a scratch of his scalp. Peppermint, with her hands on her hips, relishes in the embarrassment of her friend with a smirk tugged on her lips, cackling when Chai answers with a, “Yeah, CNMN! You kinda’ did!” They definitely did, as his head drops with a drawn out huff. The robot taps at his arm to grab a marker from a slot in his forearm, then drawing eyebrows on his face that resemble two meeting sides of a triangle above eyes that emit a bright yellow glow. He is thrilled, surely because he spends too much time with someone who very much finds joy in seeing her friend too red in the face.

Korsica stoops down to your level. “Thought we’d find ya’ here!” Then, to Chai. “You finally showed her the spot, eh?”

“Yes!” CNMN nods, his excitement concerning. “Did she like the song you wrote for her, Mister Chai?”

Your boyfriend, with another groan, buries his face in his hands. You giggle in response, evolving to a snort when you lunge forward to attempt to pry his hands away from his burning cheeks. Only then, despite the burning of your own, do you throw your arms around him to pull him into an embrace. The left side of his face is squished up against yours in the process, and despite voicing his complaints, no effort is made to distance yourself from you. His complaints, mind you, are at the mercy of a smile so wide they stretch at his cheeks. 

The rest of them can’t help but share the sentiment, but the second you notice the lingering gaze of Peppermint’s towards Korsica, you are at the mercy of her glare. Her eyes narrow, as if already knowing your not so well-kept secret.

Hey. Stop messing around and go tell him you love him already.

[erinelizabethh]

looks like I’m not done with Chai yet ..

[erinelizabethh]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color.  You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly.  You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

[erinelizabethh]

are you still writing for kengan ashura?

can we expect anything new from you for the manga or have u fallen out of love with it

oh man I haven’t thought of it in a while, I’m still shocked people even react to my old posts 🥹 unfortunately I don’t think that’s likely, unless out of nowhere I have a burst of inspiration and I write one more piece with Ohma (still a FINE man but I digress) but I believe I’ve completely moved on! Thank you for reading!!!!

[erinelizabethh]

Lost in Paradise | Yakou Furio x Reader

i love him and so I want him to hurt me

A glimpse of the afterlife, lying in the cold. You wrap your arms strife with teardrops around your form, brittle fingertips brushing against the hairs of your skin. Your teeth grind and chatter, every breath you exhale out into the world. A count to three becomes another inhale, yet your breath becomes so ragged; the cold attempts to pull you down under, into the abyss, so far below the tub you’re situated in becomes a gateway from this world to the next. Atop the ice cubes that float above the deep is a lamp above your head, a low buzzing driving you to your slumber. The bulbs flicker behind your closed eyelids as your neck falls against the edge of the tub, the water a rising wave brushing against your chin. The hand that beckons you to the other side is the one wrapped around your throat, dragging you under so the privilege of your visit is all theirs.

All you have to do is die.

“Die? What’re you, nuts?”

The breeze is sound; the ring of sand around your toes remain still despite the rolling waves edging toward your feet. No longer are you without clothes, a bathing suit hugging your figure beyond your volition, damp as if you had just stepped out of a tub. You inhale the sea salt, air so weightless, yet you are distracted by a scent that guides you like a moth to a flame. Before your eyes the sun sets over the horizon, behind mountains whose name escapes you, and it is a sight so breathtaking you blink to take a snapshot as if you can keep it to yourself forever. Yes, the hot pink and violet hues above are meant to be awed upon, but beside you is a man whose chest rises and falls as if by a miracle and there is no averting your eyes from him.

But the sun. Before you is relief, a breath of fresh air; you’ve become so used to seeing passerby shrouded in the darkness under their hoods, or beneath puddles of rain atop their umbrellas. The clouds would draw ever so closer to one another, teardrops muddling the neon lights illuminating the city. Walking down the street and never seeing your shadow was debilitating, as if some part of you never existed or left your imprint on the world. The footsteps you left behind then would be replaced, or driven past, so that you could never make your mark in a place never to be left behind. There was no choice but to pull at the zipper at your jacket, hands then venturing toward your pockets, sinking into your clothes so no one bothered to perceive you. The hairs on your skin long for the sunset now, to venture out into the sea to chase after the warmth.

His hands rest behind cobalt blue tufts of hair, unruly strands falling behind swaying in the wind. The ocean crawls past seashells, brushing past his ankles, faltering just before the swim bottoms that are deflated around his knees. The sand latches at the heels of his feet, glistening as he stretches his legs and his arms with a yawn that is contagious. His chest tattoo is on display, an all seeing eye resting over his heart. His own are shut, humming a tune he once heard traversing the streets of his home. The wind chimes sing along. He remains impervious to the world you are from, the horrors you have witnessed, instead living in relief in a world you wish was yours as much as it was his. 

Yakou sits up to cup your cheeks in his hands, then shrieks, palms retreating to the warmth of his armpits. “C-Cold! Very cold! Ice cold!” He shakes his head. “Was planning on giving ya’ a kiss but your lips are probably cold too! Some forte you’ve got, they got you walking around like a corpse.”

Your brilliant idea to drown yourself in a bathtub during your teenage years had granted you a superpower, and the World Detective Organization the means to another end; Near Death Experience, they coined it. Rather than whatever followed, your eyes fluttered open to a crime scene and a soul weeping over the loss of its body. Clothes were thrown across the floor, bracelets and clip-on jewelry a cloak over a life gone too soon. A crimson splatter stained the walls like the remnants of a firework. A little girl’s bedroom, the moon and the stars trapezing above your head, her eyes welling up upon the sight of her killer. Her father, who instead kneeled for her forgiveness, picked her up in her arms for a snapshot that was toppled over upon the little girl’s nightstand. She was the headline of the week, an ongoing investigation bordering on unsolved, her name left unsaid.

You had to hold a memory of them, however small. Your forte could nonetheless only be activated when your heart was beats away from flatlining, unlike others whose activation fee was but a small price to pay. Submerging yourself in a bathtub filled to the brim with crisp ice cubes and water granted you peace, a silence enough to slow your heart rate down to levels mimicking none. The afterlife you entered was not yours, but of the person whose death was most important to note, and your first happened to be the subject of the seven o’clock news the night you thought life was best without you a part of it. She took hold of your hand that night, guiding you to her killer and exhibiting more of your skill, so that the story to be told when the water no longer flooded your lungs was quite the riveting one. Perhaps your frequent dance with death was the reason for your skin cold to the touch.

So much to tell him. The stroll he accompanies you on before the rising tide is silent, the grip of his fingers wrapped around yours tight. Ahead of the two of you is a cabin, a cabin that looks an awful lot like the hideout for his fellow master detectives, and is one that you’ve found yourself in many times. The walks with him feel like forever, perhaps because Yakou doesn’t mind forever. He raises his free hand to his lips, inhaling the tobacco of a cigarette that inhabits his little paradise. He exhales the smoke opposite from you with the scent that sets your nostrils alight, but he is unaware that your gaze strays to the way he taps at the ash that lingers. He must have a lifetime supply, one that lasts for eternity. His soul exists within a world that longs for you, despite the boundless desires that inhabit his paradise, little bits of you enticing you to stay even if he relents and lets you go.

Is it time yet, to let him go? Does his soul finally belong to his wife, a woman he sought revenge for, a woman whose love cost him his life? Can you finally accept reality without him, the stolen glances atop rooftops in Kanai Ward? Can you bear the loss of his lips upon yours, his arms no longer closing the distance between the two of you so that the spark can last longer? You’re no longer able to perceive him like others do, like another man lost to the crumbling of Kanai Ward’s secrets. You can’t fathom people no longer able to see him like you do because that meant he was alive and people were aware he belonged to the world just as they did. If you are the only one who can see him, touch him, love him… well, how is that fair to anyone?

The receding waves rise above your ankles, desiring to swallow you whole. “I miss you, Yakou. You’re not there.” He stops, his hand caressing your trembling fingertips. ”I hate you for doing this to me.” I love you. I love you I love you I love you. 

So much unsaid. You choke out a sob, your quivering free hand wiping at the taste of salt beneath your nose. The breeze nips at the corner of your eyes, soaked and tight with your tears, and your heart aches with the reality that the sunset he sees is a fabrication of the future he yearned for. He has that regretful look on his face, the one where he wishes for the hood of a rain coat to hide his shame. His eyes are downcast, unable to meet yours, unable to fathom what next. His grip doesn’t falter, however, as if preparing for his hand to be the one you take when you exhale your last breath. You want to let go. You want to be indignant; you want to ask him if he regrets it. You want your clouds to roll in on his nirvana so he knows how much he’s ruined your life. “Didn’t take you for a liar.” 

He edges closer to your lips with a grip of your chin. “For starters, don’t start crying on me now.” He smiles, forcing you to surrender into his arms with a kiss. “And… stay with me a little while longer, okay?”

Lost in paradise.

[erinelizabethh]

AAAAA THE NEW TIME SLIP WAS SO GOOD BUT SO SAAAAAD I WANNA HOLD AND KISS MY BOY TIL HE'S ALRIGHT 😭

Beautiful writing cant wait 4 more 🤗

many more hugs and kisses in the future yessssss, we can’t get enough of him!!! Thank you for reading!! 😊😊❤️

[erinelizabethh]

Loved Chapter 4 but I'm confused on one thing. Did Chai like....... fall off the bed? Did he tumble off and take the reader with him?

yo honestly I totally get why you’d be confused the way I be writing sometimes is weird! It’s more like he uhhhh, he kind of jumped from the bed! Or like physically got up super fast so he can NOT be in that bed! Sorry to confuse you 🥹

[erinelizabethh]

Bless you for Time Slip im loving it also get that man some therapy

No can do! Gotta serve up some more angst!

thank you for reading hehe 😊❤️ Gotta give the Chai enjoyers some good food!!!

[erinelizabethh]

Time Slip | Chai x Reader (4/?)

Summary: Chai, ambassador of Vandelay Technologies, certainly has his ways of communication. You, living in the suburbs outside the campus, don't even have a cell phone. You know what they say about relationships...

Chapter One: Time Slip

Chapter Two: #E67451

Chapter Three: Daisies

Chapter Four: Sweet Dreams

Chai holds you as tight as he can, a soft murmur of your name against your chest. His body lays limp on top of you, metal fingertips upon your stomach. His touch is like a glacier resting on your skin, thawing with the warmth that is your body under the blanket the two of you share. You return by threading your fingers through his chestnut strands, tugging ever so gently on the knots he never combs out. He calls your name once more as his cheek presses further against your abdomen; he drools, but insists otherwise when the proof is nothing tangible. A twitch of his hand and you are called with urgency, and your response is a hum that coalesces with white noise. The walls seem to grow in length as your eyes remain on the ceiling, sun catchers glistening with the streetlight outside.

“Babe…” He nuzzles against you, one of his legs thrown over yours. “Stay… stay behind me…”

Another one of his dreams again… nightmares, more like it. You figure his past wasn’t favorable, considering his best friend peeks her head out of her living space to eye at your attempts for flirting. The times you meant to inquire about the source of his right arm, she raises an eyebrow and shakes her head as if to say: don’t. Peppermint seems to be the better suited of the two of you to handle Chai, and yet she really, really likes when Chai decides to stay the night. Korsica, he tells you in passing, is testing the waters with the Vandelay sister and cannot take her seriously when the wannabe rockstar is jamming out in his room and blasting songs he relates to no one but you. He nods a convinced nod and affirms this with a, “I think Korsica’s jealous that we’re past the talking stage and they are not!”

Their romance was but a rosebud, beginning to blossom through shared trauma and the desire for what’s right in the world. Perhaps not all will be lost to you, clues found in various sources like scattered newspapers and perks of being the girlfriend to the campus hero. His portrait is the first to pop up inside a device gifted to you to enhance your communication skills, cell phone in one hand with the pointer finger of the other scrolling up or down to read… Wikipedia? Chai’s Wikipedia? It is all so simple, to have access to all of the information needed on one page, to be able to know more of Chai than Chai knows himself. However, like Peppermint once said: you don’t even know the half of it.

Yes, you’re very much out of the loop; months following your meeting and you’re quick to notice how passersby stop and stare, and how they raise their thumb, pointer finger, and pinky in solidarity to the defect turned savior of Vandelay Technologies. You are beside him as the off-tune and off the beat component of a life that snaps to his own rhythm whether you like it or not. Still, you can’t help but smile when his heart beats under your fingertips, the cuts to different genres on different radio stations becoming a tune worthy enough of a song. If you rile him enough, if you excite him well enough, you pass by sunflowers in the windows of your shop that sway and follow his movements. It’s as if he’s pulling a rabbit from a hat before your eyes; he is magic itself, so much so that Chai is lightyears ahead of you that you can’t ever catch up.

The jolt from his slumber pulls the sheets off your bed, you from near unconsciousness. He awakes with a snort, hands untangling from your waist to grip at your shoulders, and his exhales grow hurried and unrelenting. Droplets drip down his forehead, past eyes wide but not wet with tears. A wince is what draws you closer to him, your palm atop his as he gasps for air. His grip is as strong as black and blue hues, and you blink until you have returned from another plane of existence. He shrinks under your gaze, his chest nonetheless expanding with every long and drawn out exhale of his. Your own deflates with the burden of the unknown, sinking as long as you continue to lose him, but your hand is held out to him through exhales that level his breathing to your own.

“Jeez, Chai,” you begin, shaking your head, “you alright, babe?”

“Wow, that—” He pauses to retract his hand, too swift for you to reach out to him. His shoulders stiff, he twiddles his thumbs, callouses from his guitar under his scrutiny. “Crazy dream, that’s all!” The blanket then falls from his body, clawing at what contact is left behind as he is missed. ”Totally did not mean to scare you like that… that definitely won’t happen again!”

Your attempts to close the distance is met with a cold shoulder, his arms wrapped around himself with an “I’m fine,” to strengthen the divide. His back is to you, downcast eyes behind the shadows that creep up to him, too much to be said or understood. That is when you’ve lost, becoming another reminder that you’re the one left behind. You frown, observing his preference to fiddle at the t-shirt that makes him less of a defect, instead of sharing the vulnerability that draws him closer to humanity. With a step backwards, you fall against the bed, the springs underneath a screech to the lack of communication the two of you share. A silence so cold, so biting, the spinning of the Earth’s axis becomes an echo; the breeze prods at your curtains as proof, past your eyelids as they threaten to grow wet with your tears.

Chai is without words, far from grasping a hint of apologies. He cannot even begin to explain the self-loathing, the insecurities, the thought of losing you becoming quite the burden to bear. He finds his spot beside you on the bed, shoulders yet brushing against yours, and his hands find his knees as he paws at the pills of his cotton pajama pants. His breath escapes his lips, erratic and scarce of peace, his body cold without your warmth to linger upon his own. Not a minute later are you wrapped up in his embrace, his head resting atop your shoulder as he relaxes his eyes and basks in the moment. You’re okay. You’re still here.

[erinelizabethh]

Omg so I remembered seeing your twewy joshua fic like two years ago so I wanted to know if you could continue it if you're fine with it

this actually caught me off guard and so I’m sitting here like who tf is still reading that shit but UMMMM! WOW UH I KIND OF HAVE LITTLE TO NO INTEREST IN CONTINUING IT BECAUSE I THINK NO ONE WOULD CARE

anyway I’m very sorry to say that I unfortunately will not be continuing it :( I’m also very silly and I haven’t even played the second one (like wtf am I waiting for) but I’m very shocked to get this message and this IN FACT made my day. I’m on my way to other fandoms and other media so maybe you’ll like some of my other works!! Still, to have someone happen upon my old works and care that much to ask me to continue omg!! Thank you so much for reading anyway, I’m very glad you liked that little prologue/snippet/or whatever!