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multifandom-rec-station · 15 hours ago

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Show Me Your Desire

A/N: so since I've been sick for almost two weeks now I didn't get a whole story done and only managed to scribble some short snippets down and this is the result of me experimenting. I have never done something like this before so here's to the first try. You can thank @hakiofdreams for the character selection and the idea. Its basically one scenario for 5 different characters. Oh and sorry if I messed Lucci, Mihawk and Zoro up I usually don't write for them (and please no more requests for Mihawk and Lucci)

Plot: you ate the Yoku Yoku No Mi - the desire desire devil fruit - that shows you glimpses of someones deepest desires when you touch them. Therefore you made sure to avoid touches and insight into those personal moments. But during a conference things get out of hand.

Warnings: none really, sfw, maybe some slight tinie tiny bit of angst, not proofread and I'm really sorry if it sucks 🙈

Characters: Law; Zoro; Sir Crocodile; Lucci; Mihawk (all separately) x GnReader

Crocodile:

You hadn’t meant to touch him.

The conference room was full of killers, and you had stayed quiet, unreadable as you were told because that was your strength. You were a broker one of the only women allowed in this blood-soaked circle, not because of strength, but because you knew when to keep your damn mouth shut.

Except for when your fingers grazed his.

It had been a fleeting moment someone bumped your chair, your balance faltered, and your hand caught the edge of the armrest next to you. Except it wasn’t empty. Crocodile was already seated there, cigar in hand, gold hook resting on the table.

You touched his skin.

And everything shifted.

The vision hit like a freight ship.

You stood on a sandstorm-swept cliff, wind howling like a banshee. Crocodile was in front of you, bleeding, furious but not at you. "Don’t you dare - don’t you fucking dare leave me," he growled. You took a staggering step toward him. He grabbed your hand pressed his forehead to yours. "You’re all I have left."

And then it was over.

Your fingers recoiled like you’d been burned. Crocodile glanced at you sharply. The eye contact was brief, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze sharpened, a predator smelling a shift in the wind.

You forced yourself to look away. Pretended to jot notes but your hand, it trembled.

Later that night you were alone on the balcony of the summit villa, nursing a glass of wine and a headache. The sea below was black and endless and you were too lost in thoughts to hear him approach.

"You touched me."

You didn’t look back. “I lost my balance.”

Crocodile exhaled smoke behind you. It curled over your shoulder like a living thing.

"You saw something."

Silence.

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch but enough that you felt it. His presence was heavy, charged.

"Your Devil Fruit," he said slowly. "The rumors are true."

You turned then, eyes meeting his. "You were warned not to touch me."

His lips curled into something like a smirk but there was no humor in it. "I don’t fear little parlor tricks, little flower."

"It’s not a trick. I saw your desire."

You watched his expression and saw a flicker of tension, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing.

You went on anyway. "You don’t want power. Or revenge. You want….someone."

He flicked ash over the railing. "Lust is human." he said calmly, unimpressed even.

"It wasn’t lust."

Now he looked at you fully. Dark eyes, smoldering with something far more dangerous than anger.

"Then you saw too much." Was all he said before he walked away again.

The days that followed were hell.

Crocodile made sure to stay out of "touching range", but he hovered, always in your periphery. Always watching.

You felt it in the way your skin prickled. The way he lingered too long in every meeting. The way he said your name, like it was a secret he refused to keep.

And worse, the way he looked at you now was not indifferent.

You saw it, a piece of him no one else did. Something he buried deep under years of blood and sand and arrogance.

That made you dangerous.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about that vision. Not just what he wanted, but how desperately he wanted it. How broken and raw his voice had been when he said it.

"You’re all I have left."

The breaking point came the next night in the garden.

It was late. You were alone again - or so you thought.

"You don’t sleep much."

You turned. "And you don’t leave me alone." You said glaninc briefly at him.

He looked tired. Less composed. Shirt open at the throat. Cigar forgotten.

"Why?" you asked. "Why do you keep circling me like a hawk?"

"Because you took something from me," he said vpice low as he stepped closer to you.

"What?" You asked blinking confused.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached out and this time, he touched you on purpose. Bare fingers, sliding along yours.

Another vision hit:

You, standing in the rain, bloodied, but alive. Him, cupping your cheek with his flesh hand, thumb caressing your skin. His hook protectively at your back like an oath. "I’ll protect you. Even if it kills me."

You gasped as the vision ended.

He didn’t let go. "You saw what I didn’t want anyone to know," he murmured. "That I’m tired of pretending I feel nothing."

"Why me?" you asked voice trembling, body shaking.

A beat of silence.

"Because you didn’t flinch," he said. "Even now, you look at me like I’m still a man."

"Are you?" you asked voice cracking

His lips twitched. "Would it matter?"

You didn’t answer just looked at him and he leaned in. Foreheads so close, breaths warm and mingling.

"You scare the hell out of me," you whispered.

"Good," he said. "That makes us even."

And then he closed the gap between you two. The kiss was a mistake, it was desperate, messy. Like trying to drown a fire and you pushed him away the first time. He let you, smirking, but not too far.

The second kiss wasn’t a mistake as you pulled him back giving in to the temptation, the desire, the need.

They said you tamed a monster.

They were wrong.

He was still a monster.

But now, when he burned the world, he burned it for you.

And when his enemies came too close, they didn’t face a sandstorm.

They faced a man willing to destroy the world just to keep your hands from shaking.

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Mihawk:

You stood in a candle-lit hall surrounded by the most dangerous men on the Grand Line, playing the part of a neutral mediator.

You didn’t expect him to be there or well maybe you did but you had just hoped he wouldn’t.

Dracule Mihawk. The Greatest Swordsman. Dressed in black and crimson, leaning against the far wall like a painting come to life.

He radiated silence. Precision. Control.

You made a point to avoid him after your last encounters with him. But fate didn’t care about your plans.

The chaos began when someone bumped into you, a minor captain, flailing, spilling wine.

You stumbled back and straight into Mihawk.

A bare hand caught your wrist. Just for a second.

And that was all it took for the vision hit you like a blade.

You, barefoot in his castle. Dressed in silk. Standing in front of a fire, wrapped in his coat. Mihawk behind you, eyes unreadable, fingers brushing your jaw. "Stay," he murmured in the dream. It was the most intimate thing you had ever seen from anyone, especially him.

And when you jolted back to reality, his gaze locked on you like he knew.

You quickly pulled away. "I-I’m fine, I’m sorry," you muttered, voice brittle.

He said nothing. But his stare lingered too long.

Later that night, you found yourself alone in the garden beneath the moonlight, trying to slow your racing heart. He found you again, silent as shadow.

"You saw something," Mihawk said, voice low and cutting. Not a question. A fact.

Your mouth went dry.

"I didn’t mean to," you admitted. "It only happens with skin contact."

"Interesting," he replied, stepping closer. "And what did you see?"

You looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. Cold, calculating… but something flickered behind his eyes. Hope? Fear? Annoyance?

"You were… home," you said carefully. "At peace."

That was not entirely a lie. But it also wasn't the whole truth.

But he accepted it. Barely.

"Keep your distance from now on," he said. "I don’t need you reading my mind."

"You think I want to?" you snapped. "I see things I never asked for. Every handshake, every shove, every accidental brush…..it’s a flood of everyone’s secrets. Do you know what that feels like?"

Mihawk’s expression didn’t change.

But his voice softened just slightly. "No. But I understand the cost of power."

He left before you could answer.

Over the next days, he avoided you. And you avoided him.

Except when you didn’t.

He lingered longer during briefings. Sat closer at the table. Your eyes met too often to be coincidence.

And then, it happened again.

A thunderstorm cracked over the island. You slipped on the rain-slick stone and someone caught you…….him again.

The vision rushed in.

You, in his castle again, dinner together, candles lit, a glass of wine before you, untouched because you were busy……kissing him, like it was the end of the world.

You jerked back, breathless, trembling.

He didn’t let go.

"Tell me," he said.

Your voice shook. "You want something you think you’re not allowed to have."

"Because it’s dangerous," he whispered. "Because I always win. And I’m afraid I’d ruin you."

You looked up, and your heart cracked open like a wound.

"Then stop touching me," you said. "Or stop pretending you don’t care."

The summit ended with deals were made and for once no blood spilled. But he didn’t leave.

He found you at the edge of the cliffside the next night. Wind in your hair. Sand crunching beneath your boots.

"I don’t know how to love gently," he said.

You turned. "I don’t need gentle. I need real."

Mihawk reached for you, slowly this time, and you let him. His fingers brushed your cheek, and the vision didn’t hit you like a wave.

This time, it bloomed.

It showed a future. A choice he had made. Not a fantasy, not a secret longing, just him, choosing you.

And for once, you saw your own desire reflected back.

When the vision ended, he looked down at you and he kissed you, it wasn’t fire. It wasn’t war. It was something infinitely more dangerous.

Surrender – him giving in to his desire.

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Lucci:

Lucci sat across from you now at a round conference table. He was silent, unreadable, flanked by the pigeon that watched you just as closely as its master. You kept your gloves on. You’ve heard the stories about CP0’s attack dog. Stoic. Merciless. Efficient.

Everytime you crossed paths with him you were surprised all over with how beautiful he was.

Not soft, never that. But there was a deadly grace in his stillness, the way his eyes rested like the flat of a blade on your skin. It was a look that said he knew what you were. What you were hiding.

You were extra careful. Until the second day of negotiations.

It happened fast. A flash of chaos during the midday meeting, two idiots broke into an argument, and someone flipped the table. You were shoved sideways, stumbling, and reaching out blindly to steady yourself.

Your bare hand crashed into Lucci’s wrist.

Shit.

Your world snapped away and the vision flashed before your eyes, flooding your senses.

Red silk sheets and low candlelight. Lucci was leaning against the headboard, half undressed, but it was not the lust that stole your breath, it was the quiet. You were there, beside him. Sleeping against his chest like you belonged there, his arm around you, watching you, like he was afraid you’d vanish. A calloused hand brushed a strand of hair from your face with infinite care, and in that moment, Lucci, the monster, the cipher, the assassin, looked more vulnerable than anyone you’ve ever seen. He wanted peace. He wanted you. And he’d never allow himself either.

The vision collapsed.

You ripped your hand back like you’ve been burned. Lucci’s expression didn’t change. Not one fraction.

But he knew.

You saw it.

After that you avoided him for the rest of the day. You sat far away from him instead, engaging in dry trade debates you barely heared. But Lucci was never far. Every time you glanced up, he was there in the corner, always watching. Not speaking. Not moving.

You dreamt of the vision that night. Of his hand brushing your cheek. Of a silence that felt like safety only to wake up breathless.

The next morning, he cornered you.

Not roughly, he simply appeared in the hallway outside your suite, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. The hallway was empty and the air was sharp with frost.

"I won’t ask what you saw," he said, his voice low and even, making you tense.

"But I would like to know," he added, stepping forward, "why it disturbed you."

Your throat tightened. "You touched me," you said carefully. "I don’t like that."

"You touched me," he corrected. "The reaction wasn’t fear. It was pity."

That hit a nerve. "So now you read minds too?" You asked a little harshly.

"No," he said, "just yours."

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to insult him. But his tone wasn’t cruel it was…..curious. Cautious, even.

"It’s dangerous for people to know what others want," he grumbled tilting his head, making you clench your fists. "Especially when what they want is you."

The silence between you was suffocating. Your heart hammered behind your ribs like it was trying to escape. "It doesn’t matter," you whispered. "You’ll never act on it."

He took one slow step forward. "You’re right." He said bluntly.

His presence was overwhelming, an aura of silent dominance, raw and coiled. But there was a strange gentleness to it now. A restraint that rattled you more than any threat could.

"You didn’t see a fantasy," he murmured. "You saw a possibility. That’s what’s dangerous."

And with that, he left.

The summit ended with a treaty. You should have felt relieved but instead you felt hollow.

You caught Lucci watching you again as the final ships left the port. His face was unreadable, but his eyes, those dark, unblinking eyes, held something you now understood.

Need. Not obsession, not hunger. Just Need.

You found a note tucked into your room before you left.

"You saw me unarmed. No one else ever has. That should frighten you. But if it doesn’t, come find me. I’ll be waiting. —R.L."

You didn’t sleep that night, you just sat with the letter in your lap, fingers trembling above your gloves.

You’ve always feared touch. But now? You feared the idea of never being touched by him again and so you decided to go after him.

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Zoro:

The room reeked of tension, gunpowder, old grudges, and barely veiled threats. It was supposed to be neutral ground, a temporary truce between pirate factions to discuss territory lines, enjoy the rum and food and make trades and deals. You didn’t trust any of it or them. Especially not the Straw Hats swordsman leaning against the wall like he owned the air around him.

Roronoa Zoro.

You had heard the stories, demon of the East Blue, three swords, no tolerance for weakness. You even saw him once in action and after that had maybe 2 or 3 run ins with him but that was it.

You expected cold glares and muscle-bound not his eyes to linger on you.

So when you handed him some documents for his Captain, Zoro’s hand briefly met yours and you froze as the vision set in slamming into you like cannon fire making your knees buckle under the force of it:

You - bloody, breathing hard, standing between Zoro and a faceless enemy. Your back to him, a sword in your hand, and defiance in your voice. “You’ll go through me first.” His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you away out of danger not because he didn’t trust you or because he thought you were weak but because he wanted to protect you to be your shield, to keep you from harm. And then it shifted…..you, in a quiet moment, tucked beside him. Sleeping. His hand buried in your hair, body curled protectively around you, eyes closed but still guarding. He didn’t just want your body. He wanted to protect you, he wanted your loyalty. Your fire. Your presence. He wanted you – all of you.

When you blinked, the vision snapped away. The noise around you from the other pirates was still there. No one noticed, no one paid attention. Except Zoro himself.

His gaze had sharpened and you pulled your hand back fast. Too fast, causing his brow to furrow.

That night you barely slept. The vision kept replaying in your head – how rare it had been. How genuine.

It made no sense. He barely knew you. Why would his desire involve you bleeding for him? Sleeping beside him? Protecting you like you were something sacred?

The next morning you kept catching him watching you after that. Silent. Focused. Not aggressive, but intense.

And you tried to avoid him…..but he didn’t let you.

"Why did you flinch?" he asked, his voice came out of the shadows while you were walking alone, heading back to the guest quarters. He stepped out from between two buildings like he’d been waiting.

"I didn’t," you lied.

He stared at you, then tilted his head. "You looked like you saw a ghost, when we touched."

"I don’t like being touched," you explained forcing a smile.

"Bullshit," he hissed.

"Why do you care?" you asked inhaling sharply.

Zoro’s mouth opened, but he paused because he didn’t have a snarky answer.

"I don’t know," he said, finally. "But I’ve been thinking about it too damn much."

You saw the storm in his eyes and you knew you shouldn’t but he was just as confused and torn as you were and so you told him your secret.

"The Devil Fruit I ate… shows me what people want. If they touch me." You curled your fingers into your gloves. "I don’t mean surface-level stuff. I mean their deepest desire."

"So… you saw mine?" he asked not blinking.

You nodded once.

He looked away. "What was it?"

"I’m not telling you."

"That bad?"

"No. That personal."

"Then I must’ve looked pathetic." He murmured jaw clenching.

You stepped forward, a little closer to him. "No. That’s the problem. You didn’t."

He looked at you then, really looked. "Then what’s the problem?"

You swallowed hard looking at him before answering. "It made me want it too."

Silence.

"What did you see?" he asked again now more persistent.

Your heart hammered. You reached up, tugged one glove off slowly, deliberately.

“Touch me again and find out.”

He stared but then stepped forward.

His hand lifted and for once, it wasn’t a brush, it was a grasp, fingers curling over yours like he needed to hold something steady. Maybe himself.

And you shared the vision with him:

You. His. In every way that mattered. Fighting back to back. Him protecting you. Sleeping side by side. Arguing and laughing and bleeding and living. The sword at your hip matched his. The way he held you wasn’t lust, it was fierce belonging. You weren’t his weakness. You were his anchor.

He dropped your hand like it burned him and backed away a step, breathing hard.

But this time it was you who took a step closer to him. "I saw you," you whispered. "And I didn’t want to run. I wanted to be in that vision."

He blinked once. Then twice.

And suddenly almost out of nowhere he kissed you.

It wasn’t elegant or practiced. It was the kind of kiss you gave when you didn’t have words, when you had seen something terrifying and beautiful and wanted to make it real.

After that you went with him, to stay close, to make the vision, the desire a reality. You never told the others what your fruit did though. You didn’t need to. Zoro never left your side. He didn’t say much but he didn’t need to.

And he always made sure to touch you, your bare skin because he wanted you to see it, see what he wanted, see what he desired, see how much he wanted you.

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Law

Why the hell were you in a room with infamous pirates, locked in a tense alliance negotiation, and thought it was a good idea to be bare-handed?

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you sat at the circular table. Law was directly across from you, arms folded, sharp eyes watching everything. You had met him once before during a cargo handoff and you were sure he didn't remember that. But you did.

Your fingers brushed a silver coin on the table.

"Keep your hands still," Law said without looking at you.

You froze, embarrassed. His voice was quiet but stern, laced with a kind of quiet authority that made the others look over.

You retracted your hand and folded it in your lap.

"Don’t be so harsh," one of the other pirates muttered at Law with a grin. "She flinched like you growled."

Law didn’t respond. But his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary.

Hours passed. The summit devolved into shouting, threats, and chest-puffing. You remained silent, observing. Calm. Neutral.

Until someone, an impatient mercenary with more ego than brains, tripped behind your chair.

You reached to steady yourself. Your hand flew out and….Law grabbed your wrist.

The world split open and your vision blurred and suddenly you saw his desire.

A cold room. Snow against steel walls. You, panting, drenched, eyes furious. He reached for you, desperate. A plea in his voice. "Don’t walk away. Stay. Just stay this time." You stood your ground, shaking your head, tears in your eyes. "You don’t need me, Law." His hand cupped your jaw. Gentle. Trembling. "I do. I just don’t know how to say it without destroying you."

The vision snapped shut like a trapdoor and you gasped, ripping your arm away, your knees nearly giving out.

Law’s brows furrowed. "What did you see?" He urged to know.

Shit. He knew.

You didn’t say anything just got up and walked out of the room.

You found him later that night on the edge of the island cliff, the ocean churning below like a storm waiting for permission.

"You didn’t answer my question," he said without turning.

You stayed back. "I didn’t think you’d actually know what my power does."

"I make it a point to know what everyone in the room is capable of," he said. "But I didn’t think you’d use it. Thought you were smarter than that."

"I didn’t mean to."

His head tilted slightly, dark hair blowing in the wind. "Then tell me. What did you see?"

You hesitated for a moment eyes shifting towards the ground. "You… asking me to stay."

He went quiet. So did the wind. And the waves in the ocean beneath it seemed.

"And what did you say?" he asked softly.

"I said you didn’t need me."

His laugh was low, bitter. "Typical. Even in my dreams, I drive people away,"

"No," you said quickly. "That wasn’t….It wasn’t like that. You… You were scared of hurting me. That’s not selfish. That’s human."

Law turned towards you, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable.

"I didn’t want you to see that," he said.

"I didn’t want to see it either," you replied, truth cutting between you. "Because now I can’t stop thinking about it."

He began avoiding you after that, making sure to keep his distance. His eyes were colder, calculations behind every word. But it wasn’t hatred, it was fear. You knew too much now. You had seen a version of him he barely admitted to himself.

And you couldn’t forget it.

You saw it in the way he stared at your hands, never touching you again.

In the way he tensed every time you stood near. He hadn’t spoken of the vision since, but you felt it constantly, the weight of possibility, just out of reach.

Until you broke first.

You cornered him one evening, at the medical bay. Just the two of you, surrounded by clean linens and the quiet hum of solitude.

"I can’t keep pretending I didn’t see it," you said. "Didn’t see what you want."

Law leaned against the counter, silent.

"You want someone who stays," you continued, stepping closer. "You want to let someone in. But you don’t know how. And you’re terrified that if you try, you’ll break them. That I’ll break."

His jaw clenched but you kept going. "I’m not afraid of you, Law. I’m afraid of how much I want to reach for you."

His head lifted, eyes sharp. "Don’t," he said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because I’m already thinking about what I’d do to keep you."

The confession cracked the silence like thunder. He stepped closer, finally, hand raised, not touching, just hovering near your face.

"I’ve spent years pushing people away because it was easier. Cleaner. You saw what I wanted… and now I can’t stop imagining it."

"Then take it," you whispered. "Just don’t lie to yourself anymore."

And for the first time, he touched you willingly.

No vision came.

Because you didn’t need to see his desire anymore.

You already felt it.

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #one piece #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk #rob lucci #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #one piece x reader #zoro x reader #lucci x reader #mihawk x reader #sir crocodile x reader #trafalgar law x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #mod logan

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multifandom-rec-station · 16 hours ago

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The New Guy | Clint Barton x Male Reader | 18+

Fandom: MCU

Genre: Fluff, Implied Smut

Requested by Anon: clint barton x male reader: when clint meets y/n, tony’s new secretary, he’s immediate in showing his interest in the younger male. Clint is bold with his flirting and touching, and it seems to work. The only problem is how protective tony and the other avengers are, since they know how clint is. Some time later, after a team meeting, y/n pulls clint into a closet, to show much he likes him

Paring: Clint Barton x Male Reader

Warnings: Allusions to sex, Sexual acts

Word Count: 888

Requests are open

!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!

Keep reading

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #clint barton #hawkeye #clint barton x reader #hawkeye x reader #masc reader #mod logan

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multifandom-rec-station · 17 hours ago

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Can I request a Spencer x reader where he's just masturbating to the thought of her? Like he's a mess for her.

content warning: Masturbation (m), obsessive thoughts, dirty talk (internal monologue style), unprotected fantasy sex, praise kink, slight innocence kink, tension and pining, voyeuristic imagination, soft desperation

a/n: guess whos FINALLY getting through her asks, me me me!

word count ~ 1k

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Spencer had always prided himself on his self-control. His intellect, his rationality, the way he could compartmentalize even the most disturbing crime scenes. But that discipline had crumbled the moment you’d started working at the BAU.

It was your laugh. Your mouth. Your mind. The way you chewed your pen when you were thinking. The way you said his name when you wanted him to explain something, all breathy and curious.

You didn’t know what you were doing to him.

And now, alone in his apartment with the lights off and the door locked, Spencer lay sprawled on the bed, hand already wrapped tightly around his cock, trying—and failing—not to say your name out loud.

“Fuck,” he hissed, voice raw. His hips flexed up into his hand automatically, his mind feeding him another image of you in your tight slacks, the curve of your ass when you leaned over his desk. He had a photographic memory. And that was absolutely ruining him right now.

He squeezed the base of his shaft and bit his bottom lip, exhaling hard through his nose.

It had started so innocently. A casual touch here, a warm smile there. The way you held eye contact just a little too long. You called him "Spence" sometimes, and it made his pulse skyrocket.

And then there was yesterday.

You’d bent over in front of him, trying to grab a folder off a lower shelf. Your blouse had ridden up just enough to expose the smooth skin of your lower back. He'd had to bite the inside of his cheek just to stop himself from groaning right there at his desk.

His brain hadn't let it go since.

“God, you have no idea,” he whispered to the dark, voice shaking. He stroked himself slowly now, almost reverently, thumb brushing over the leaking head. “You’d kill me if you knew I was doing this.”

But he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t not imagine the way your lips would part if you saw what you were doing to him. Would you act shocked? Embarrassed? Or would you crawl up on the bed, straddle his hips, and take him in hand yourself?

“Bet you’d look so pretty,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, like you were in the room with him. “On your knees for me. So eager to make me feel good. God—please…”

He whimpered, hand speeding up, hips stuttering. His thighs trembled.

He was so hard it hurt.

Every nerve in his body was tuned to the idea of you—your scent, your touch, your voice. He imagined you whispering filthy encouragements in his ear, telling him how good he looked stroking himself like that, how much you wanted to taste him.

The rhythm of his hand turned frantic. Slick and tight.

He could practically feel you under him, the phantom weight of your thighs wrapped around his waist, your nails dragging down his back, your lips hot on his throat.

“You’d take me so well,” he whispered, completely gone, eyes shut tight. “So warm… so tight around me, fuck—I’d fill you up so good.”

He was panting now, the muscles in his stomach trembling as his orgasm started to coil low and tight. His hand didn’t stop—couldn’t. He was chasing it, chasing you, chasing the image of your mouth parting in a moan as he slid inside you for the first time.

“Say my name,” he begged the ghost of you in his mind, voice cracking. “Say my name when I fuck you.”

And then it hit.

His entire body bowed off the bed, a strangled cry slipping from his lips as thick ropes of cum spilled over his hand and belly, hot and sudden and so much. It felt like everything he’d been holding in for weeks came rushing out in one desperate, electric wave.

He collapsed back onto the mattress, chest heaving.

The only sound in the room was his ragged breathing, the soft rustle of sheets under his twitching thighs.

“Jesus,” he whispered after a moment, wiping his hand with a nearby shirt, still a little dazed. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and release. His heart still hadn’t slowed.

All of it—for you.

Always you.

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #fem reader #afab reader #mod logan #community recommended

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multifandom-rec-station · 18 hours ago

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First I Love You

@desimarie12 wanted how the fellas would react to the first "I love you"

Clint is working on his bow, fiddling with arrows the first time those three words slip out of your lips. You were just sitting across the room from him, playing with one of your freshly sharpened knives. When you glanced up, seeing him work it just slipped out. He froze, eyes flickering up to you "What's that now?" your eyes widened when you realized you hadn't said that in your head that time. "I um I said I love you" your heart was pounding in your ears waiting for his response but he just grinned "Bout time you caught up. I've known I love you for about six months now, at least" and he went back to work.

Tony was down in the lab and had asked Jarvis to ask you to come join him. When you asked Jarvis the reason? "Mr Stark said he misses you" you rolled your eyes but grabbed your coffee and the cup you made for Tony and headed down to the lab. When you opened the door Tony looked up and grinned "There's my girl"

You handed him his coffee and sat down on one of the stools. "What are you doing anyways?" he shrugged "Working, what are you doing?" "Resting" you replied, leaning over on your hand. You watched him for a moment before saying "I love you Tony" his eyes flew up, big as dinner plates but he tried to keep it cool. "Of course you do. Everyone loves me" you scoffed "Jerk" and slid off the stool like you were going to leave. He was around the table and grabbing your arm long before you ever could "Kidding, kidding. I love you too sweetheart"

Steve pushed against your relationship at first. Not because he didn't want you but he was old enough to be your grandfather. You two came from completely different worlds. No matter what however you still both found yourself falling. He'd just come back from a mission and came straight to you, not even stripping out his suit first claiming he "Just needed a kiss home" you laughed and ran your fingers through his hair "I love you"

He stopped, a large smile spreading across his face "That right?" you nodded "Yup" and he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed another kiss to your lips "I love you too"

Thor told you he loved you first. You were dating for a couple weeks. He came back one day and before you could speak he was picking you up and spinning you into a circle "There is my love" when he sat you down you laughed "Thor, you do know what that means right?" he nodded "That I love you. I do" it took you a little while longer to say it but he was patient, even teasing you "I can live a long time. No matter how long it takes"

Loki didn't want to act as stunned as he felt but he could tell your words were true. You did, you truly loved him. No one had ever felt anything so pure for him or made him feel anything like that. "I think I may love you too" that was good enough for you because you knew for Loki? That was everything.

Sam and you had been dating a while. You even had a relationship with his sister and nephews. The issue was you were scared. You knew you loved him but the fear of losing him. Sarah was the one that pushed you into telling him. "Wouldn't you rather him know?"

That evening you and him went for a walk. He knew something was up. When you stopped walking and turned to face him the worst went through his mind "Give me a chance before you leave me. Whatever it is, I'll fix it" you busted out laughing from shock alone that this damn near perfect man thought you were leaving him "God no! Sam I love you" he panted dramatically "Oh thank god because I am so in love with you" and pulled you into a kiss.

Joaquin is freshly home from a mission with Sam. The two of you are curled up in bed, his head is resting on your chest and his fingers are drawing shapes on your sides. You looked down at him, at this man that owned your heart and smiled "I love you Joaquin" he stopped his fingers as a slow grin spread across his face "You do?" you nodded "Very much" he pressed a kiss to your bare skin "I love you too, have for a while but you know Sam said you a bigger flight risk than me"

"I'll kill him!" you laughed but his hands gripped your hips "Kill Sam later baby. Come love on me now"

Bob has gone through hell so when you quietly whisper the confession one night, he waits. Waits for something bad to happen to you, something to break like it always does. Moments stretch but it never comes. You curl up to his back and press a kiss to his neck. You're almost asleep when you hear him whisper "I love you too" you squeeze his shoulder to let him know you heard him then you both drifted off to sleep.

Bucky didn't even see himself as someone worthy of love. He just a habit of looking at his misdoings, whether he was in control or not. Then you came along. You never let him fall into that hole. If he had a bad night, you were there. If he doubted himself, you were there. The two of you started dating and he knew he was falling fast and hard but that scared him, not for himself but for you. Couldn't you find someone better?

The first time you told him you loved him was on the heel of him asking you that. You shook your head "I don't want anyone else I love you!" he clamped his mouth shut, eyes tracing your face "Are you sure?" you nodded "I just want you" when he crashed his lips against yours it was like he was finally letting go. "I love you too sweetheart"

John runs. Look I adore him but he runs the first time you tell him you love him. The two of you had been together a few months. The sex was great, you'd even helped him get visitation with his kid. You knew how you felt so when you were tucked against his chest after hours spent wrapped up in each other you decided to tell him. A low confession of "I love you John"

He didn't say anything. You hadn't expected a response. He pressed a kiss to your temple and you both fell asleep. You woke up to an empty bed. He started pulling away after that.

After about a week of him avoiding down to innocent touches you confront him "So that's it huh? Good enough to fuck. Good enough to help you get your life straight but not good enough to love? Fuck off then Walker" you spun to walk out but he moved faster than you and had his arms around your waist "Baby wait"

You turned to look up at him, his eyes held that damn sadness that hurt your heart "I love you honey. So damn much. I just don't wanna break you like I do everything else" "Then don't" you replied, pulling him into a kiss.

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #clint barton x reader #tony stark x reader #steve rodgers x reader #sam wilson x reader #thor odison x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #joaquin torres x reader #john walker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bob reynolds x reader #mcu x reader #fem reader #mod logan

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multifandom-rec-station · 19 hours ago

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the night after — jack abbot x fem!reader After celebrating someone’s birthday and getting absolutely wasted, you wake up naked next to your attending, Jack Abbot

warnings: Grey’s Anatomy Mer-der’s first meeting but in reverse—kind of—i guess not really, suggestive, mdni, 18+ only, sexual tension wc: 1.7k+ masterlist

You wake up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Your tongue feels like sandpaper, your head is foggy, and something doesn’t feel right. Your bed’s on the other side of the room, the AC is blasting colder than it normally does, and—fuck. You realize you’re not in your room. And there’s an arm draped over your waist.

Slowly, carefully, you turn your head. The sunlight spills through half-closed blinds, catching on the salt-and-pepper stubble of the man beside you. His mouth is slightly open, and his dark lashes flutter as he shifts in his sleep.

Your eyes widen and you put a hand over your mouth to stop the gasp from escaping.

Jack. Fucking. Abbot.

And you’re naked. Very naked. And so is he.

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your memory to rewind, praying this is just a dream. But the ache between your legs, the faint bruises on your hips, the marks on your shoulders, and the condom wrapper on the nightstand all point to the same conclusion.

You slept with Jack Abbot. Your attending.

The man who’s called you ‘kid’ and made your heart flutter over a hundred times since you started working with him.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, barely breathing.

Jack groans beside you and stretches a little, his voice still sleep-rough. “Morning.”

You go rigid.

He peeks one eye open, confused at first, then amused as the recognition hits him. “Well,” he says, voice annoyingly calm. “This is unexpected.”

You grab the sheet and pull it up to your chest like it’s armor, even though he’s seen everything last night. “We didn’t—did we…?”

He raises a brow, glancing down at your very much shared nudity. “I’d say the evidence is compelling.”

“Oh God.”

“Yeah, that’s what you kept screaming last night.” Jack props himself up on an elbow, not bothering to hide his smirk. “Along with my name.”

You gasp and hit him with a pillow.

He laughs, but his smile falters a little. “…Do you regret it?”

You stare at him.

You don’t know. Your brain is still catching up, replaying hazy flashes of last night, someone singing off-key, tequila shots, his hand on your lower back, the way he laughed when you leaned too far into him, his lips on your neck…

You start getting dressed, refusing to meet his eyes. “Our shift starts in 3 hours.”

Jack watches you, a quiet sigh escapes him. “Guess I’ll see you at work, then.”

You pause at the door. “Don’t tell anyone.”

He nods. “You got it.”

But the look he gives you—half smug, half something else you can’t place—follows you all the way home.

It follows you all the way to work, actually.

You’re doing hand-offs with Langdon but you keep feeling a pair of eyes on you. Every time you glance Jack’s way, he’s unapologetically staring—and every damn time, you’re the one who looks away first. Because damn him and his godly hazel eyes.

You sigh quietly and follow Langdon, but he catches it. “Something wrong?”

You raise your brow, “No, nothing. Just tired.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I heard it was quite the party last night.”

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps toward him—but he doesn’t look suspicious. Just amused. You hadn’t considered the possibility of people seeing you and Jack leave together. Did anyone see? Did you two make out in front of everyone? Oh God.

“What—what did you hear exactly?”

He shrugs. “Oh you know, Whitaker dancing on the table, Javadi puking on the side…” And then he lowers to whisper in your ear, “You going back with someone…”

You gasp and take a step back, your face instantly going red. Langdon bursts into laughter, clapping you on the shoulder like he just scored a touchdown. As he walks away, you bury your face in your hands.

When you look up, Jack’s already watching you again. Brows furrowed because why does it look like you’re blushing from something Langdon said?

He starts heading your way.

And you panic.

If he talks to you right now, you might combust. So you pivot sharply and walk quickly toward triage, pretending you suddenly care a lot about minor injuries.

You manage to avoid him most of the time. It helps that the ER’s chaos has no mercy and no time for personal crises—though every time your fingers brush the back of your neck or shift your weight just so, flashes of the night before hit you like a freight train.

The press of his mouth against your collarbone.

His hands caressing, gripping your thighs as you convulse.

His voice, low and hoarse: “You feel so fucking good…”

You snap out of it. You have a job to do.

But Jack is everywhere. You see him checking vitals in Trauma 2, walking past with a chart, barking out orders near the nurse’s station—and every damn time, your traitorous brain replays some sinful image of last night’s events.

And he’s not doing much better.

He freezes in the middle of writing something when you laugh at a joke someone tells. He knocks over a coffee cup when you pass behind him in a tight hallway. And he has to physically turn away when you bend over to pick up a dropped chart, running a hand through his hair and muttering “fuck” under his breath.

The tension between you could power the entire hospital.

Later, you spot him teaching a group of interns about… something you couldn’t care less about. But you linger, half-listening to his explanation, until your eyes drift downward.

His fingers.

You should look away. You know you should. But your gaze lingers—strong, steady hands guiding with careful precision, calloused from years in trauma, confident in ways that make your stomach twist.

Your breath catches.

You remember those same fingers grabbing a fistful of your hair, then circling around your neck and putting just enough pressure to make you see stars. And how you licked his fingers clean after he made you come with them, the way you came apart under his hands, his voice in your ear, rough and reverent—“Such a good girl for me…”

You feel heat crawl up your neck and jump slightly when Jack calls your name, grabbing your attention.

Jack is looking straight at you, brow raised. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah!” You smile too quickly. “Just, uh, dehydrated. Gonna grab some water.”

He narrows his eyes slightly. He knows you’re lying. And as you walk past, you swear his lips twitch upward like he knows exactly what you were thinking.

Your shift has finally come to an end. Thankfully there were no serious cases—because you’ve been completely distracted all night. You’re at your locker, jacket in hand, moving quickly, until you spot a familiar pair of shoes and pants standing just beyond the locker door.

You debate whether to close it or keep it open forever.

“You know we’re gonna have to talk about it sooner or later, right?” He asks, leaning against the lockers.

You bite your lip before slowly closing the door, revealing Jack, arms crossed, bag slung over one shoulder, looking irritatingly good for someone who’s probably just as wrecked as you are.

“Outside?” You offer and he nods, suggesting you lead the way.

As you pass through the automatic doors, you spot Langdon just beginning his shift. He smirks, nodding like he knowssomething, and you try your best to ignore it. Flipping him off for good measure.

You’re now face to face with Jack outside of the ER under the dim lights, tapping your shoes against the pavement, looking everywhere but at him.

Jack rubs the back of his neck. “So… are you avoiding me because it was bad, or because it was really good?”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “We were drunk, Jack.”

“Yes, we were.” He agrees, way too easily. “Not what I asked.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “We made a mistake—”

“Did it feel like a mistake?” Jack tilts his head, watching you closely.

You hesitate.

Because you know what a mistake feels like. A mistake feels like guilt sinking sharp in your stomach, like regret pounding in your head. But waking up tangled in Jack’s sheets, his fingers still resting on your waist like he couldn’t bear to let you go? It didn’t feel like a mistake. It was like relief, joy, release. Like something you’ve secretly been waiting for.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” He takes a step closer to you, “Even drunk out of my mind, I didn’t regret it. And I’d do it again.”

Your eyes widen and you stop breathing for a second. He’d do it again?

“As long as it’s with you.” He adds, clearing his throat and looking away.

For once, he doesn’t look like the Jack everyone else knows. He’s not all confidence or sharp comebacks. He’s vulnerable, a little nervous, maybe even a little scared. And somehow, that makes your heart beat even faster.

“…I didn’t regret it either.” You finally say, and his eyes dart back to look at you, hopeful.

“To be honest,” You continue, huffing because you’re about to admit your deepest secret. “I’ve had… feelings for you for as long as I can remember.”

Jack’s brows raise, an amused smile forming on his lips.

“I mean, you’re—you’re annoyingly handsome, and confident, and…” You swallow. “And I like how you always look out for me. Not just me—everyone, really.”

A small laugh escapes his lips. “Just you, sweetheart. I couldn’t care less about everyone else.”

You blush. “Flattering. But well…yeah. I was just really surprised we… we did it—”

“Sex?” Jack teases. “You can say it.”

You groan, clearly he’s having fun teasing you because you’re beet red now. “Jack—”

“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “You’re just so damn cute like this.”

You think there must be steam coming out of your ears now from how hot you feel.

You glance away, hoping to regain composure. “So… what now?”

Jack daringly takes another step towards you, trapping you between him and the wall. “Well,” He says, “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Actually…” You bite your lip. “I think I was so drunk that I… can’t really remember… many details of last night.”

He puts a hand over his heart, mock-wounded. “Ouch. That bad?”

“No! I’m sure it was great—I just—”

He cuts you off gently. “It’s fine, really.”

You blink. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He then whispers near your ear, “It means I get to show you again. Fully sober this time.”

You gasp, tilting your head to face him and seeing that smirk on his face.

“So,” he adds, eyes sparkling, “your place or mine?”

----

i loved writing this one ngl

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #mod mimi #jack abbot x female reader #jack abbot x reader #the pitt #jack abbot x you #jack abbot the pitt #f!reader #fem reader #fem!reader #afab reader

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multifandom-rec-station · 20 hours ago

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i can’t get Oswald Cobblepot (gotham) being soft dommed outta my mind so here you go.

---

it starts because Zsasz won’t shut the fuck up.

"he’s tall," Zsasz says, kicking his feet up like he’s describing a luxury car. "muscles like he was built to break necks but he’s got dimples. dimples, Oz. and that voice? you’re gonna love him."

"I don’t love anything, Victor," Oswald hisses, glancing down at the smear on his shoe with disdain. "I need someone who’ll kill on command. Not someone who—"

“will have you thinking about him with your legs in the air?” Zsasz grins, sharp as ever. “yeah, yeah, that’s what I said.”

Oswald doesn’t dignify it with a reply. but he’s thinking about it. and when you walk in—tall, dark, broad-shouldered and quiet—when you look down at him like you’d kneel for no one but would for him, something stutters in his brain.

your voice is deep, velvet over steel, soft when you say “Sir,” and his pupils dilate instantly, which he pretends is just bad lighting. you don’t flinch when he tests you, snapping, demanding, flaring like a peacock. you just smile—dimples, fuck—and say, “Of course, Boss,” with that tone like you’re saying cum for me instead.

and you always know what he needs. cane in hand before he asks. umbrella held out just as the rain starts. silent, watchful, obedient—but only to him.

you kneel one day, fixing his shoes like it's nothing, and he doesn't even think about it before setting his foot on your thigh.

and it’s thick. strong. warm. Oswald stares for a beat too long, then coughs and looks away. you don’t react. just finish the task and glance up, and he swears you look like you’d crawl forward and worship him if he gave the word. his breath catches. he fires two people that day for no reason.

you call him “Sir” like it’s a promise. “Looking sharp, Boss,” you murmur once, eyes lingering too long on his chest before you fix his tie, a little too tight, fingers trailing just a bit lower than they should. Oswald feels like a virgin, breath stuttering in his chest like you touched him somewhere obscene.

Zsasz notices. of course he notices.

"Your new bodyguard calls you 'sir' like you're paying him in orgasms," he teases. “but not me, huh?” he throws at you once, smirking. “don’t call me 'sir' like that.”

you glance at him, all pretty-boy grin and amused glint in your eye. “That’s ‘cause you’re not my boss.”

Zsasz wheezes. “I love him,” he declares to no one. “he’s seducing you, Oswald, and you don’t even know it!”

but Oswald does. deep down. somewhere where he doesn’t want to put words to it. because you’re gentle, but you’re everywhere—fingers on his back guiding him through the club like he needs protecting, praising him like a good boy when he does something ruthless. and fuck, does it make him feel alive.

and then—then—one day he snaps.

you say, “Right away, Sir,” after he gives you a quiet order, and it’s just a little too warm, like your hand’s back on his throat. and he turns on you, heat blooming in his face, and growls, "Stop it."

you blink. calm. unfazed. towering and still.

"Stop what, Boss?"

and that’s the problem. you don’t even flinch.

“You’ve been domming me,” Oswald snarls, voice breaking around the edges like he hates saying it. “This whole time. You’ve been treating me like—like—like one of your—your submissives or whatever the fuck it is you do with that voice and those hands—”

your brows lift, but you don’t interrupt. you let him talk himself breathless.

“—and you think I haven’t noticed? you think I don’t see the way you look at me? You think—”

“I do look at you,” you say, voice dropping just for him. “All the time.”

he glares at you. seething. pink in the cheeks and shaking.

"You’re gonna ruin me, aren’t you?"

you tilt your head. slow. patient.

“If you want me to.”

Oswald grabs your tie. Pulls. Hard. “Don’t call me ‘sir’ unless you’re gonna fuck me like you mean it.”

you hum. hand settling against his back, warm and grounding. “Is that a request?”

he kisses you. filthy. teeth and tongue and heat. breathless and desperate, like he’s been choking on the tension for weeks and finally cracked.

“God,” he gasps between kisses. “you’ve been soft-domming me in public. I have dignitaries watching.”

you smile against his mouth. “They all think you’re in charge.”

he moans. actually fucking moans.

Zsasz will never let either of you live it down.

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #oswald cobblepot #oswald cobblepot x reader #gotham #gotham x reader #masc reader #mod logan

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multifandom-rec-station · 21 hours ago

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Hii! 💕 It’s me again, love. I tried to send this as a message but it wasn’t possible—aaaanyway, just wanted to share a little thought. When you write Lucci again… maybe a scene where the reader goes down on him? Like, he totally loses it. My imagination’s running wild and I had to say it. 🫠🩶

Hey Sweetheart ❤️ Thank you for the sweet message! I’m actually taking a little break from requests right now since I’ve been feeling a bit burned out—but your idea was just too delicious to ignore. So… here’s a tiny, unpolished indulgence I couldn’t resist writing. Hope it scratches that itch. 🖤

Disarmed

Warnings: nsfw, oral (giving)

Word Count: 360

Pairing: Rob Lucci x Reader

crossposted on AO3

He wasn’t meant to fall apart. Not him. Not Rob Lucci.

And yet—he stood there, fists clenched at his sides, teeth grinding behind a taut jaw as you knelt between his legs, your mouth working him slow, deliberate, sinful.

It had started like a tease. You on your knees, looking up with that glint in your eyes like you knew exactly what you were doing. He should’ve stopped you. Should’ve told you to behave. Should’ve said something—

But the moment your tongue dragged up the underside of his cock and your lips wrapped around the tip, all coherent thought left him.

He hissed through his teeth. “Don’t push your luck.”

You didn’t listen. You never did.

You took more of him in, inch by aching inch, and that warm suction made his knees nearly buckle. One of his hands found your hair—not to push, not to control. Just to feel. To root himself in the chaos you were building in his body. Your spit clung to him, glistening as you pulled back with a filthy sound before taking him again, deeper this time, messier.

“Shit—” he breathed, low and guttural. “Where the hell did you learn that?”

You moaned around him, vibrating down to his core. His control began to fray.

Every stroke of your tongue, every swirl and wet gasp, eroded the brutal discipline he was known for. You were ruining him—ruining—and you fucking loved it. Your hands dug into his thighs, grounding yourself as you started to lose rhythm, chasing the sounds he made like a reward.

His voice dropped, breathless and angry and aroused: “You’re doing this on purpose. You want to see me snap.”

Your eyes met his—glazed, wicked, adoring—and he finally broke.

Lucci’s hips jerked forward, forcing you to take him deeper, his grip tightening in your hair. He let out a guttural growl, head tipping back, composure gone—shattered. He came hard, gasping your name like a warning, spilling down your throat as his whole body trembled.

When he looked down at you afterward—lips swollen, chin messy, still flushed with pride—his voice was quiet.

“…That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

@auryborealis 😎

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #one piece #rob lucci x reader #rob lucci #one piece x reader #lucci x reader #mod logan #gn reader #gender neutral reader #unspecified reader

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multifandom-rec-station · 22 hours ago

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Lucky Me

A short, fluffy Gotham Edward Nygma x reader! I've been dying to write for this version of Eddie! and Yes, I know the riddle towards the end has been used to death but it's so cute, idk I couldn't help it lol.

Pairing: Edward Nygma (Gotham) x reader

Word Count: 387

Summary: Edward works up some courage to confess his feelings for you.

CW: None! just fluff! MDNI anyways!

Edward had been uncharacteristically quiet as of late. Usually you could never get him to stop speaking but now you’re lucky if he tells you a riddle.

You looked up from your mountain of paperwork and saw him pacing by your open office door. Every other pass he would glance in.

“Is everything ok, Eddie?” You threw in his nickname, something only he let you do. A recent development in your work relationship with him.

Though, you wanted more. You desperately wanted to be friends outside of the GCPD, and, maybe, if luck had your side, more than friends.

He finally stopped pacing and stood in the doorway.

“Hmm?”

“I asked if you were ok.”

“ Oh… yes, just you know. Work.” He gave a half-hearted smile, a smile he usually reserved for his coworkers he clearly thought less of.

Edward still stood in the doorway of your tiny office.

“Work pertaining to me… or?” You questioned, getting up and walking around your desk to face him better. You leaned against your desk, crossing your arms awaiting an answer from Edward.

Edward fumbled with his own fingers, a slight sweat had built up on his brow. He finally scrounged up enough courage to speak, although he couldn't manage to look at you, “I’d like… I’d like to, to court you-DATE! I’d like to date you, erm, I… I’ll just. Yeah. I’ll shut up-“

“-court me then, Mr. Nygma.”

Edward stopped his blabbering and finally made eye contact with you, “You… you’d like to?” A rosy hue now dusted his cheeks.

You stepped closer to him, gently placing a hand on his warm cheek, an action that seemed to ground him, “I would love nothing more.” You smiled at him.

“Good-“ Edward cleared his throat, “I mean, great!”

You reached for his hands sensing how nervous he was still, “why don’t you stop back by around… oh I don’t know, Five-Thirty? You can take me to dinner.” You half teased.

Edward smiled, giving your hands a slight squeeze, “Riddle me this; What’s a fruit, but also on the calendar?”

“Hmmm, humor me Eddie.” You smiled at him.

“It’s a date!” He pulled away from you and giddily left your office.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched him leave. Perhaps luck was looking out for you after all.

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #edward nygma #Edward Nygma x reader #gotham x reader #gotham #gn reader #mod logan

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multifandom-rec-station · 23 hours ago

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A Visit to the Infirmary

Masterlist

Img by Buffoland

This is a gift for the lovely @akagami-no-laney 🎁!! I like Hongo thanks to you, and when I went to look for more content about him, I saw there was very little! So I decided to write this. I hope you like it! 💕 Summary: You've fallen in love with the doctor aboard the Red Force. In complete denial of your feelings, you think it’s best to avoid him for a while until the feeling passes. But a terrible pain in your back will force you to pay him a visit. Word count: 2650 Notes: Love in denial. Flirting. Confessions of love. Use of 'Darling' and 'Doll'. Reader is a brat. Beckman is a saint. Hongo doesn't really know how to approach you, though in the end it seems like he manages to 🤪. I have no knowledge in medicine, so everything here is pure fiction XD.

"Dammit, Beck!!!" you roared, kicking and flailing in the air. "Let me go!"

The tall man's grip tightened as he hoisted you over his shoulder, stoically advancing toward the ship's infirmary while your fists landed futile punches on his wardrobe-like back. "Scream all you want Darlin’, but we’re going to see Hongo whether you like it or not."

“NO!” you whined, writhing harder. “NOT HONGO! PLEASE! I-I’ll do anything you want! I’ll… I’ll get you the finest cigarettes at the next port!”

Beckman chuckled and shook his head, clearly amused by your desperate efforts to escape.

"BECKMAN, I’m serious! Let me go!! I-I swear that… that… OUCH!!" you twisted in agony as a sharp, searing pain shot through your lower back.

The man stopped immediately to give your body a moment to recover.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, one hand moving to your back and rubbing it gently, “you need help… and he’s the only one here who can give it to you, do you understand?”

You shut your eyes and nodded, then held onto his shirt, trying your best to handle the wave of pain.

You had been dealing with unbearable pain in your lower back for days. You didn’t know what caused it-whether it was some bad posture, the fall when you climbed down from the lookout, or the time you landed hard on your backside going down the ship’s ladder. Whatever it was, you must have injured something, and the pain, coming in waves like stabbing knives, was horrible.

Stubbornly, you had tried to let it pass on its own, avoiding asking anyone for help and steering clear of the infirmary. Yet your walks on the deck, face twisted in pain and hand pressed to your lower back, hadn’t escaped the ever-watchful Benn Beckman. Guessing your reluctance to see the ship’s doctor, he had kept his distance and observed you from afar without asking questions, but, as he watched your condition deteriorate further, he decided it was his duty to act.

“Hongo’s a decent doctor. Give him a chance,” he said, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you with his concerned gray eyes.

The problem wasn’t whether Hongo was a good doctor. You knew full well that he was competent and professional. The real issue was that he was also kind, tall, funny, and undeniably attractive...

Okay, yes. You were maybe… probably, a little bit in love with him. But it was an insignificant detail, considering you were fighting it. You were convinced that keeping the right distance would make the feeling fade and spare you from a potential broken heart. All you had to do was avoid him and act like a brat when he was around, and everything would be fine. You were as certain of this as you were that your back pain would eventually subside on its own.

BAAAANG!!!!

The infirmary door swung open with a deafening bang as Beckman kicked it harder than intended, hands fumbling as he tried to grab hold of your increasingly elusive body.

“Sorry, Hongo,” he said, noticing that part of the doorframe had splintered.

“Oi, Beck,” Hongo said without turning around, completely unfazed by the door’s loud crash as he meticulously washed his hands in the sink. “I see you’ve convinced y/n to come and see me.”

“That’s not-” you began to say.

“YES,” Beck shot you a reproachful look as he carefully set you down on the floor. “She’s a smart girl and understands what’s best for her.”

You opened your mouth to speak but his huge hand covered it. His cold eyes bore into yours, and he mouthed the word “behave,” leaving no room for an argument.

“Perfect,” Hongo turned around with that charming smile that always drew you in. “Welcome to my office, y/n.”

You held his gaze for a moment, observing how his eyes crinkled beneath the scar that ran down his temple. Then he took a small white towel and dried his hands with an unusual gentleness for a pirate. The gesture made you look away, focusing in a sturdy wooden table that held a collection of bandages, ointments, and surgical instruments.

“Do you need me to stay?” Beckman asked.

“Yes-”

“NO-” Hongo said at exactly the same time.

Beckman’s gaze shifted from one to the other. “I’ll be outside if you need me,” he finally said, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and placing it between his lips.

Shit.

You shooted him a dirty look as he walked out. Once the door shut, Hongo's eyes were on you again. His smile stayed as he moved a bit closer.

“So…” he began, halting when he noticed you flinch and step back, “you’ve had a sharp pain in your lower back for days, haven’t you?”

Of course, that bastard Beckman had told him.

“Maybe,” you replied nonchalantly, avoiding his eyes.

“And you didn’t come to see me until now, why?”

“It’s not that bad.” You shrugged, the careless movement causing the pain in your back to flare up again, but in a wave you managed to endure with dignity.

“Uh-huh…” he examined you. “Let’s take a look, okay?” Slowly, he took another step forward. “Can you lay face down on the exam table for me?”

Your gaze darted to the exam table to the doctor.

“Absolutely not,” you looked at him with a defiant look, arms crossed over your chest.

Hongo’s eyes narrowed.

“Very well,” he kicked aside a stool that stood in his way as he moved towards you, “by force then.”

You swallowed hard, realizing your back was already pressed against the wall. His figure loomed closer, and you wasted no time scrambling to take cover behind the wooden table. As you clutched its edge and dragged it in front of you for cover, several bandages, bottles, and ointments scattered across the floor, some breaking open and spilling.

“Eeehm, do you need help!?” Beckman’s raspy, concerned voice came from the other side of the door.

“No!” Hongo bellowed as he charged after you, his eyes fixed on you and ignoring the mess on the floor. “No need for help! We’re behaving like two perfectly normal, civilized people!”

He moved along the right side of the table while you quickly circled to the other side, moving as fast as your body let you. As he reached out to grab you, you twisted to evade him, but a sharp, agonizing pain shot through your back again, spreading to your hips and down your thighs. Your legs gave way under the intensity of the feeling and just as you began to collapse, Hongo caught you in mid-air.

“I’ve got you…” he soothed, his usual tenderness reappearing as he held you tightly against his chest. “I’ve got you…”

You buried your head in the crook of his neck, sobbing and swallowing your pride, and you stayed wrapped in his arms for a few minutes until he felt your body gradually relax.

“I’m going to take you to the exam table now, alright?” he said, feeling your head nod against his neck. “You know…'"he helped you to sit down, "you must be made of steel, because in all the time you’ve been with us, you’ve never come to see me…” his fingers danced lightly along the edge of your shirt. “Can I examine you?”

“NO.” You swatted his hands away.

"Alright, alright..." He smiled, raising his hands in surrender. "Let’s focus on your back, then." He gestured with his finger for you to turn over on the examination table. "Can you lie face down, please?"

You glared at him and lifted your chin proudly. But when he saw the spark in your eyes, he raised an eyebrow.

“Face down, Doll. NOW.” He said, his commanding tone making it clear who was in charge.

With a dramatic roll of your eyes you gave in, knowing full well there was no choice but to comply with your doctor’s orders. You turned over on the table, and the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through your back, forcing you to moan and press your face into the sheets. You felt Hongo’s fingers ghost over your back, right at the spot where the pain was the worst.

"It’s right here, isn’t it?"

You nodded, surprised by how well he found the exact source. With your head buried in the soft, cushioned surface of the table, you heard the sound of a stool being dragged toward you. You turned your head to see him, but found his knees and the tops of his thighs instead, legs set apart.

"Okay…" you heard him muse,“... intramuscular analgesia”.

His left hand rested on your lower back, applying just enough pressure to keep you in place, while his right hand deftly prepared the cotton and antiseptic. As he turned his torso, his defined abs peeked out from above the waistband of his pants right in front of your eyes, and you snorted, turning your head away.

“Don’t worry Doll, I’ll be gentle…” he said, assuming your reaction was due to the fear of needles. “I need you to raise your skirt and lower your underwear, please.”

You didn’t respond. You stayed still on the exam table with your heart pounding in your chest. The pain in your lower back was unbearable, but the thought of Hongo right behind you, demanding to see your ass, was much worse.

"Come on, Doll…" he insisted, "be a good girl for me."

This time, a surprised chuckle escaped your lips. Never in a million years had you imagine hearing those words from him. A warm flush crept up from your neck, staining your cheeks. You hesitated, hands trembling as you slowly lifted your skirt over your hips. Your fingers fumbled with the waistband of your panties, and as you exposed the soft, vulnerable skin of your ass, you felt Hongo shift slightly on the stool.

“... Hongo?”

"Yes," he cleared his throat with a hint of self-reproach. "Please, keep your ass up."

It was all too much. You couldn't stand the tension, the smell of antiseptic saturating the air, and the way his gaze weighed on your exposed skin. And that last order was the straw that broke the camel's back. You had to say something, anything that might unsettle him and tip the balance in your favor.

“Tsk, tsk, doctor, you can’t just pull down a girl’s panties and say 'ass up’ without, you know, a little courting first, can you?”

He let out a snort of laughter, and the sound made you smirk proud of yourself. Though not for long.

“Oh, Doll…” He lightly brushed your skin with the alcohol swab. “You know I’ve been wanting to court you for a while, right? But you make it hard when you keep avoiding me.”

Your heart raced inside your ribs. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to get up and run out of the infirmary, but unable to do any of that, you simply turned your face away and closed your eyes, trying to focus on anything but what he had just said. He sighed and got ready with the syringe.

"Alright, here we go," he said. The quick, clean poke made you gasp, and as he saw how tightly you were holding the sheet he took your hand and held it in his. "Good girl, you’re doing great… just hold on a bit longer…"

You focused on his words, letting the rhythm of his calm breathing soothe you, and as soon as he finished, he rose from the stool and moved away to give you space.

“Try to rest a bit until the medication takes effect."

With your face still turned to the wall, you pulled up your underwear and waited. Behind you, you heard the sound of pieces of glass being picked up and thrown away. You felt extremely guilty, thinking about Hongo cleaning up the mess you had left in your frantic attempt to escape. As soon as the pain in your back became bearable, you slowly sat on the exam table.

A sigh escaped you at the sight of Hongo kneeling on the floor, his back hunched and his shaved neck bowed, carefully picking up the spilled liquids and shards of glass. Without hesitation, you moved closer and crouched down beside him.

“Is your back feeling better?” he asked as soon as he noticed you presence.

“Yes… ,” you said softly, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor. "Thank you."

“Anytime.”

You felt his gaze on you as you focused on the task, sorting the broken jars and glass shards into a bag. You worked side by side in a silence that, oddly enough, didn’t feel uncomfortable, and you wished it could stay that way. But when your hands brushed against each other and you pulled yours back, he spoke.

“Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” you replied without looking at him.

“But you avoid me…”

You stayed quiet, a rag in your hand scrubbing the floor hard.

"Look at me," he put a hand on the top of your head and guided you to face him. "Isn’t a ship’s doctor good enough for you?"

You shrugged off his hand and stood up , trying to hide the mixed feelings on your face.

“It’s not that, Hongo, it’s… it’s complicated.”

“It shouldn’t be complicated… " He rose to his feet to match your stance, and his eyes locked with yours with a hint of pleading in his expression. "Actually, it’s very simple. At least for me, loving you is as simple and natural as breathing.”

His words pierced your heart like arrows set aflame. He might have tended to your back, but his gaze and his words were leaving your mind and heart reeling, caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

“You love me…” You shut your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. Your heart felt so tired from struggling.

“Of course I do… You know I'm crazy about you.”

You opened your eyes again to meet his, his face calm yet sharply attentive to your reaction.

"I just..." your eyes darted between his, "need a little more time to sort out my feelings and make things... right."

He held your gaze for a moment, weighing the situation.

“I’ll be right here,” he said at last, raising his hands as if to hold the whole room.

You returned his smile. It wasn’t going to be very hard to come to terms with your feelings if he kept acting like this. As you discarded the dirty rag you had been holding into a bin, you turned and walked toward the door, feeling as though you were leaving a piece of your heart behind.

"I’d really love to see it again, you know? But maybe under different circumstances...” he said as you reached for the doorknob.

“See what?” you turned to look at him.

"That beautiful ass."

Bastard.

But your heart betrayed you, leaving you flattered and forcing you to suppress a smile.

He was a pirate after all.

“Oh, Hongo,” you looked at him with pursed lips, “I can’t believe it. Where’s your professionalism?”

“Seriously, I’ve been pretty damn professional.” He put his hand over his chest. “I didn’t even smack you, and trust me, I really wanted to.”

“Ugh!” You huffed, stepping out of the infirmary and bumping into Beckman, who was waiting for you outside.

“How are you feeling, Darlin'? Better?” he looked at you with his grey eyes.

With a smile you couldn't stop, you stood on your toes and kissed him on the cheek, leaving him startled as you continued walking down the hall. Then the infirmary door opened, and Hongo stepped out, casually leaning against the frame and watching you walk away.

“Much better!” you replied over your shoulder, smiling to yourself before disappearing from their sight.

............................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece <3

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #hongo one piece #hongo #hongo x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #fem reader #mod logan

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multifandom-rec-station · 2 days ago

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How one piece men cuddle with you ( Zoro , Luffy , Sanji , Ace , Shanks , Law , Sabo )

Zoro isn’t the cuddly type at all — at least, not consciously. He doesn’t initiate affection, and if you ask, he’ll grunt and roll his eye. But when you’re sleeping or hurt, he pulls you close like it’s instinct. He’s warm and steady, one arm heavy over your waist, his chest firm against your back. He doesn’t say anything, but his breath in your hair is steady and grounding (if you ignore the strong smell of booze). If you shift or try to leave, he tightens his grip just slightly — like his body is guarding yours even in sleep. He might wake up just enough to mumble, "Tch… stay. You’re warm."

Luffy cuddles like a human octopus. He has zero concept of personal space and doesn’t think twice about draping his entire body over you — legs, arms, head on your stomach, everything. He beams, sighs happily, and falls asleep within seconds. If you try to move, he clings even tighter. His hold isn’t possessive — just full of trust and comfort. To him, you’re both his favorite blanket and his favorite person. "You feel nice~. Don’t move!" he whines, snuggling even closer. Cuddling with Luffy feels like pure joy — chaotic, warm, and utterly free.

Sanji treats cuddling like both an art and an honor. Ever the gentleman, he always asks first—"Would mademoiselle like to be held?"—and when you say yes, he melts into you like you’re his entire world. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, nestling his face in your neck, whispering sweet nothings and complimenting the softness of your skin, the scent of your hair. His touch is affectionate but intentional, fingers lightly tracing your arms or thighs. He’ll sigh dreamily and murmur, "I could die happy like this..." Just beware: if it’s your first time cuddling, you might feel a faint trail of blood dripping from his nose onto your shoulder.

Ace is naturally warm — physically and emotionally. Cuddling with him is like curling into a sunbeam, especially comforting in winter. He tends to sprawl out when he sleeps, but the moment he senses you nearby, he pulls you against his chest, arms locking around you like a heated safety net. His heartbeat is strong, grounding. He might kiss the top of your head or nuzzle into your hair while murmuring, "Don’t go far..." He clings like someone who knows the ache of losing people. With Ace, cuddling is heat and closeness wrapped around a desperate kind of love he struggles to say out loud.

Shanks cuddles like a man who rarely gets the chance — but treasures it when he does. He’s a sprawler, always ending up with you tucked under one arm, his lone hand running lazy, soothing circles along your back. When he’s tipsy, he’ll pull you into his lap, resting his forehead against yours, whispering half-serious lines like, "This makes a man wonder what he’s really chasing." Then he’ll laugh low in your ear — the kind of laugh that makes your heart twist. His cuddle style is warm, teasing, magnetic — but when the world falls quiet, there’s real weight in the way he holds you. You’re the one thing that softens his storm.

Law is stiff about physical affection — at first. He’ll sit beside you for hours without touching you unless you initiate it. But once you do, he exhales like he’s surrendering and mutters something about how “this is inefficient sleeping,” before pulling you onto his chest like it’s no big deal. His heartbeat betrays him — fast the first time, but steadying as he gets used to your weight. He’ll absentmindedly rub your back while reading or thinking, quiet and still. Law doesn’t talk much during cuddles, but the intimacy is unmistakable — measured, deliberate, and deeply comforting. If you fall asleep there, he won’t move a muscle. He’ll just whisper, "Idiot..." softly, not unkindly — wondering how he ended up this far in.

Sabo cuddles with the care of someone who treasures soft things because he’s lost them before. He always pulls you into his arms like he’s protecting you from a world that’s far too cruel. He’s the kind to stroke your hair, kiss your temple, and ask if you’re okay even when you’re just resting. His body is relaxed, his tone gentle, and you can feel how tightly he tucks you in — as if keeping you safe with just his embrace. "You’re everything to me," he’ll say into your skin, even if you’re half-asleep.

Cuddling with Sabo feels like being chosen — over and over again, whereas his Den Den Mushi could never be chosen, as the “Peree-peree” sound continues uselessly in the background.

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multifandom-rec-station · 2 days ago

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Hi Don! I would like to know how the Monster Trio’ll react to their S/O calling them “My husband” instead of “My boyfriend?” ☺️ (Sanji is so gonna die from happiness hearing that)

hiii! hope you're doing good ^^ yeahh i'm pretty sure Sanji's heart would do backflips hearing that! xP thanks for your request sweetie, hope these HCs will live up to your expectations! Love <3

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Slip of the tongue (or not)'

Monster trio x gn!reader

Monkey D. Luffy

he’s so chill about it lmao

“boyfriend”? “husband”? “brochacho”? as long as you’re with him, loving & cuddling him and that he can do the same, he’s good.

Sanji has already tried a few times to explain to his captain the nuances of these terms, but he doesn’t really care. Luffy’s not very attached to labels, what matters to him is enjoying each other’s presence, and the gentleness as well as the intensity of your bond. you’re you. and for that, he adores you.

he’s not dumb though. he gets that “husband” is kind of… the next level. or something like that. he sometimes thinks about it, but it’s not really one of his plans. still, if it can make you happy, then he’ll follow you. he’ll always follow you.

‘yeah give me some more please. my husband eats… a lot.’, you’d suggest to a merchant on a random island where the crew would stop.

— ‘ya mean, King of husbands.’, he’d reply nonchalantly, his mouth full of food taken from the display.

— ‘Luffy what-’

Roronoa Zoro

here’s another one who isn’t attached to labels.

Zoro knows he loves you and would do anything for you. he knows your presence is priceless, and that your relationship brings some kind of peace in his warrior’s life. you’re like a lucky star, radiant and source of hope. Zoro is not a man of great speeches, but if he knows one thing, it is that he and you share a very strong bond that he’d fight to preserve — that’s probably what we call love.

he’d be quite confused, though, when he heard you refer to him as your “husband” — confused and a little panicked, though he wouldn’t show it. still... “husband”? wait, since when? why doesn’t he remember? what happened? his mind spirals, but yet, without hesitation, he would come to you and ask about it.

‘are we married?’, he’d question in astonishment, as if you were revealing to him a truth kept secret for millennia; and you’d chuckle. this guy fr.

— ‘do you want us to be?’, you’d tease, making him roll his eyes in a grunt.

— ‘nevermind. m’gonna take a nap.’

the slight blush on the shell of his ears doesn’t escape your gaze as he leaves. you’re always so good at flustering him. but oh, you want to play it like that? don't underestimate him. maybe you two should actually get married…

Vinsmoke Sanji

FINALLY he can use the ring he always has ready for you in his pocket /j

do i really need to remind y’all of this? Sanji is a man with loooots of love to spare, and his relationship with you is so dear to him. he’s attentive to what you do, what you say, he does everything in his power to be there for you, and hopes that your sweet lil couple will last. forever, please.

i mean yeah, bro’s your boyfriend, but what if — what if — one day, he becomes your husband?? unlike the other two rascals, for Sanji, it does make the difference. this mere thought makes him all giddy. and that’s why hearing this word roll off your tongue, in such a sweet voice, to refer to him… oh, the things you do to this man.

nosebleed and heart eyes? probably. but above all, his desire to preserve, to treasure your relationship and make you happy is all the more reinforced. you already see him as your husband — this would mean that you too love him and trust him so much that you are planning for the long term, even into marriage, right? and Sanji would never dare to break your dream.

‘anything for my beautiful partner.’, he’d grin. yes, he’d play along. let him have this moment.

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #one piece #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #mod logan

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multifandom-rec-station · 2 days ago

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Aaaaand okay I swear I’m about to shut up but I know steve rogers is your bf and you’re slowly converting me so can I please request him with the prompt “you're blurring your words together, time for bed”? He’s just so. Bossy <3

HI MAEE omg I love you for this thank you!! also yep mhm I need him to boss me around. for science x join the celly!

steve rogers x fem!reader, 1.1k words

Steve comes home from his week-long mission bruised and exhausted, his chest aching for you. You’re all he wants after a week away. As much as he loves his team, you’re the only person he wants to see after spending seven days straight with Nat, Sam, and Bucky.

You’re not hard to find. He pushes the front door shut, and he’s shouldering his pack off when he hears footsteps from the hall.

“Steve?”

A second later you appear from around the corner, looking pretty as ever, clad in your flower-print pyjama pants and one of Steve’s old shirts. He grins.

“Hi, honey.”

You beam and throw yourself at him. Steve gets his arms around your waist and hugs you so hard he lifts you off the ground, your arms locked around his neck like a vice. He breathes you in — you smell amazing, the peach shampoo he bought you last week lingering in your hair, mingled with that soft lemony laundry powder you always use on your clothes. He’s so happy to see you he forgets to speak, until you fill the silence,

“I missed you so much,” you say into his neck.

Steve puts you down, grinning like a madman, hands greedy on your warm body. “I missed you too, sweetheart. Come on, let me see you.”

He steals his arm from around your waist and gets his hand on your jaw, encouraging you back. He holds you a few inches from his chest and leans away so he can look at you properly. You smile up at him, all sorts of pretty, your hair messy and your face all dewy like you’ve just washed it. He’s missed you so, so badly. He thumbs your cheek.

“How’d you get prettier while I was gone, hm?” Steve murmurs, and while he will admit to purposefully flirting, he totally means it. He imagined your face plenty of times while he was away, but it could never compare to how you look right now.

You flush. “Steve.”

Steve’s chest aches. He loves the way you say his name, all flustered like that. Egged on now, he doubles down. “Seriously, honey, it was only a week,” he says, feigning disbelief. “Can’t you give a guy a break?”

“Oh my god,” you mumble, and hide your face in his chest, hands screwed into the sides of his jacket.

Steve laughs, giddy with fondness. “Hey, that’s not fair. I haven’t seen you all week and now you’re hiding from me? Come out,” he says firmly.

You emerge then, still flustered, but your lovesick smile mirrors Steve’s own. Steve curves his arm tighter around your waist and dips down to kiss you on the mouth. You push up into the kiss like you were waiting for it, your lips warm and soft, tasting of mint. Steve, too eager and somehow still unaware of his strength, accidentally holds you so tight you’re forced up onto your tiptoes from the pressure of it. But you only hum against his mouth, content to be manhandled. Steve decides he’s never going on another mission again.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

When he pulls away, you’re flushed as ever.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say, but you make it sound like I love you, too.

Steve just grins. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “C’mon, let’s sit down and you can tell me about your week.”

He guides you to the living room, half carrying you. You’re clinging to his arm like a leech, seeming unwilling to let him go. Steve’s not complaining. He doesn’t want to let go either, not for a long time.

“Did you eat yet?” You ask him on the way to the couch.

Steve nods. “Yeah, babe. Ate on the way home.” He knew if he came home without having eaten, you’d insist on making him something, despite the late hour. Besides, Sam insisted on stopping for Mexican on the way back.

Steve sits on the couch and tugs you down with him. You end up sitting sideways in his lap, your knees bent up in front of your chest, looking like everything Steve’s ever wanted. He holds your waist and tries not to smother you right then and there. He wants to hear about your week, every detail.

“Tell me what you did this week,” he says, rubbing big circles into your back.

You smile at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, and press one hand to his chest. Steve’s heart thud thud thuds like it wants out. He’d let it jump right out and land in your hands, if he could.

“Okay,” you say. You push your hand up his shoulder to hold his neck. “So, after you left on Monday, I…”

You launch into an explanation of the week, sparing no details — you know by now that when Steve wants to hear about something, he wants to hear everything. Meanwhile Steve listens, half super eager to take in everything you’re saying, half mesmerised into a quiet lull by how lovely you look in his lap like this, your hand slowly trudging up into his hair as you talk.

You tell him about work, about how you went and looked at cats at the adoption shelter on Tuesday, about the new pasta recipe you made last night, and that there’s leftovers in the fridge if you want some, baby. He listens until you start to droop, your body slowly slumping into his chest.

“And then, yest’day I got the groceries,” you’re saying, your words slurring together at the ends like you’ve got a spoonful of honey in your mouth. “But they didn’t hav’any of that chocolate you like, Steve, so I went to th’store out by…by—“

You cut yourself off with a deep yawn, your shoulders rolling back languidly. Steve rubs your back.

“Honey,” he says, both amused and so, so fond.

You blink at him. “Hm?”

Steve gets his hand under your jaw and tilts you to look at him. You look like you’re doing a great deal to keep your eyes from falling shut. He pushes his hand down to your shoulder and thumbs your collarbone.

“You’re blurring your words together,” he tells you. “Time for bed?”

You frown. “Wasn’t finished,” you say, looking somewhat put out.

Steve laughs softly through his nose. You’re so cute he could eat you.

“S’okay. You can finish telling me tomorrow, yeah?” He strokes hair from your neck gently, his other hand pushing under your shirt to feel your warm skin. He spreads his hand over the small of your back. “You’re tired, babe.”

His touching seems to have the effect he hoped for — you practically melt in his lap, your shoulders going lax as you lean into him.

“Okay,” you say, compliant as putty in his hands.

Steve takes you to bed. He leaves you under the covers while he brushes his teeth and gets changed, assuming you’ll be asleep by the time he’s done. But when he slides into bed next to you, you reach for him.

“Missed you,” you murmur softly, pushing your arm across his chest in the dark.

Steve is so full of fondness he can barely get the words out, but he manages. “Missed you, too.”

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #fem reader #mod logan

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multifandom-rec-station · 2 days ago

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Hot Off The Press

DESCRIPTION: Their reaction when you end up in the newspaper unexpectedly

WARNINGS: none, implications of crushes

CHARACTERS: Law, Smoker

WORDS: 1,730

A/N: Just a silly idea that came to mind that I wanted to explore with a couple of the One Piece guys. I had fun doing this and may do more at some stage with other characters in this scenario. Hope you all enjoy what I came up with

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

LAW

Unlike some of the other pirates around, Law kept up with the news and goings on in the world regardless of if there was an inkling his or the crews bounties would go up or not. He needed to be aware of everything going on at all times in order to plan the best course of action and leave very little room for surprises should the next island he came to be already in the middle of some drama that could be either avoided or exploited. One morning he walked into the dining room of the Polar Tang to join the rest of the crew for breakfast. Grabbing his morning coffee he took his usual seat and flicked open the paper, beginning to leisurely read through it while enjoying idle conversation with the rest of the crew.

“Hey Captain can I-” Penguin’s question was cut off immediately when Law was already pulling out the so-called ‘entertainment' section of the paper and passed it across the table. That was the one section he felt was an entire waste of paper and ink and only glanced at just incase something of note had slipped through. Most of the time though? Even the barest glance felt like a handful of seconds he’d never get back due to the pointless garbage written on the pages. “Thank Cap!” Law gave a non-committal grunt in acknowledgement to his subordinate’s thanks and trained his attention instead into a story about political unrest affecting two neighbouring islands.

Unfortunately his focus was interrupted when Penguin suddenly let out a gasp just as he was taking a bite of his breakfast causing him to choke. Law set his paper down and rose sharply, making his way directly to his friend. It was a relief that in that time Law approached, Penguin had managed to dislodge the food and caught his breath. “Oi, why didn’t you chew? Nearly gave us a heart attack!” Law lectured, using his relief to fuel his panicked lecture. Penguin nervously shifted in his seat and with another clearing of his throat he shakily turned over the entertainment section to show Law and the others what had caused his mishap. Law’s eyes dropped to the print and they widened, sharply snatching it from the table just as you walked in with a long yawn breaking from your lips. “Mornin’ guys…”

When no-one answered you blinked and frowned at the group in confusion. Stepping closer you looked over Law’s shoulder to see what had gotten his and everyone else’s attention. Similar to Law, your eyes bugged and you pulled his arm towards you so you could get a better look, as iff the extra inch of space would make the page change from what you couldn’t believe you were seeing. First was the eye-popping headline “HOT PIRATE OF THE WEEK: HEART PIRATES’ HEARTBREAKER!” Filling the page were images of you standing on the dock of the Polar Tang on one of the occasions the sub had surfaced and you were performing maintenance on the vessel.

Slowly you remembered that day. It had been so hot that you had to undo the top of your boiler suit and tie the sleeves around your waist to reveal the tank top you'd been wearing underneath. Your skin was lightly sheened with sweat and cheek smeared with a small streak of oil. Nervously you rubbed the back of your neck as you looked over the images, you were just doing your job but somehow the photographer had managed to take countless photos, all of them very flattering. It did unnerve you slightly to think that everyone would see you like this along with cheesy one-liners of ‘they can perform maintenance on me any day,’ ‘tune me up,’ ‘let’s let off some steam,’ and your favourite ‘Captain Law, can we join your crew?’

Nervously you chewed your lip and looked away to finally see your Captain’s reaction, fearing he would lecture you. Instead it surprised you to see the back of his neck and his cheeks were tinged a very noticeable pink as his eyes were glued to your pictures. Unable to help yourself you couldn’t help but smile slightly, pleased and a little giddy that he was looking appreciatively. Still you needed to break the silent tension. “I’m surprised they got my good side.”

“You stupid? Every side is your good side.” Law asked suddenly, his mouth acting while his brain was still distracted. Your eyes widened and lit in shock at Law’s words, your smile growing when realisation hit your usually serious Captain that he’d said it aloud. Flustered and unable to recover, Law swiftly turned and left the room to the safety of his office and you grinned wider to notice he’d kept a firm hold on the paper as he left.

SMOKER

Something strange was happening at G5 and it was pissing Smoker off to no end. Every few minutes calls and missives came through, the influx a lot more than normal. The usual missions and reports were overwhelmed with transfer requests coming from all sections of the world’s seas. Part of him thought it was a well co-ordinated prank being pulled on him from the different divisions by very bored and motivated Marines that he must have angered in some way. This had to have been a prank or revenge it had to. There was no way all these requests to come to G5 was genuine.

It hadn’t even reached mid-morning yet and what little patience he had was gone when the next transfer request came through. Angrily Smoker slammed his hand down on his desk and rose from his desk, having had more than enough nonsense to last him a lifetime. If he stayed in his office for much longer, he’d be driven to making his own transfer request to get away from it all. Needing a distraction to clear his head, Smoker began to walk aimlessly in search of what seemed like the quietest section of the base. In his mind he thought if it was quiet then that meant there would be no-one around to pester him.

“Smoker!” Smoker came to an abrupt halt and turned his head sharply to see you approach him, your pace quickened and expression just as frustrated and annoyed as he was. Your own sour mood was probably why you weren’t trying to stay out of his way. Now finding his distraction, Smoker faced you properly. You huffed out a sharp breath, relieved that the commander had finally snapped out of whatever he was thinking about and stopped long enough for you to catch up and stop in front of him. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Wasn’t paying attention to anything really.” Smoker explained, only now noticing his cigars had burned to nothing. Grabbing two more from his jacket he lit them and placed them into his mouth, taking a fresh inhale of the nicotine helping to make him more grounded. Releasing the breath of smoke, he used his ability to direct it away from your face as he focussed his attention on you. “So what did you need?”

“Just a general inquiry.” You began while trying to control your anger while it was still fresh. In a base full of short fuses you at least tried to stay levelheaded around your commander. You took a slow breath and looked to him, still unable to keep the scowl from your face. “How much trouble would I get in for beating up a newspaper employee?”

“Not like you to get so hotheaded about journalists…” You let out a bitter scoff at the word ‘journalist’ and your hand holding the rolled up paper tightened to the point the paper crinkled loud enough to make Smoker’s gaze drop from your face. “What’s been reported?”

“You haven’t seen it?” You asked, momentarily confused. You thought everyone else had. Or was he acting dumb on purpose so you would have to relive your embarrassment in realtime in front of him. Deep down you knew that wasn't Smoker’s nature, and his mirrored look of confusion confirmed that. With a sigh you lifted your hand, offering the rolled up paper to him.

Smoker lightly tugged the paper out of your reluctant grip and let it unfurl. Knowing this had to be personal for you he flicked through the pages in search of the cause for your wish to cause harm to a civilian. Finally he found it, or rather it practically jumped out at him when he turned the page. Your image filled the page, the photo capturing you mid-battle. One foot had connected with the blurred shape of a pirate while your body was arched, your weapon in hand and aimed at another enemy. Smoker took in your form, eyebrows raised at how poised and strong you were. What got him the most was the fearsome, intense edge lighting your eyes, your focus entirely on stopping the pirates that had tried to ransack a village. All in all it was an extremely flattering story about your heroism and undeniable strength. Yes, there were some comments about your attractiveness but Smoker couldn’t exactly argue, not when the facts were so clearly staring him in the face-both on paper and in person.

Finally Smoker’s eyes zeroed in on how the story piece stated you were a part of the G5 base and he let out a huff of frustration and amusement. So this was the reason for his morning-long headache. “You just have to live with it. There’ll be a different story by tomorrow.” Smoker shrugged calmly and handed the paper back to you. “Don’t let something like this bother you. Okay?”

“It’s embarrassing.” You grumbled. “Why did they have to fill a page with my picture? Why even use my picture at all?”

“Why not? It looks good.” Your head snapped up at Smoker’s murmured comment, eyes widened and heat prickling the back of your neck. He looked completely composed and stoic, acting as if he hadn’t said anything at all but you knew what you heard. Instead he lightly tapped your shoulder and started to head back towards his office, idly calling after you as he went. “If you’ll excuse me I have transfer requests to formally reject. Just keep up the good work.”

——————————————-

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multifandom-rec-station · 2 days ago

Text

Clues Between the Lines

nico robin x fem!reader

on your first anniversary, you scramble to surprise nico robin with the perfect gift—but you make a disaster.

a/n: happy pride month, my sapphics ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

words count: 3.6k

tags: established relationship, fluff, slice of life, first anniversary, soft teasing, subtle romance, light humor

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The day starts slow.

You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, fingers tapping on your chest. One week left. One week until your anniversary with Robin.

Your first one.

You groan into your pillow “What do I even get her?”

She has books. She has clothes. She likes quiet mornings, coffee, flowers sometimes… But nothing feels right. Not for your first year together.

You sit up, run a hand through your hair, and make a plan.

Subtle questions.

No suspicion.

Easy.

You find her in the library, sitting by the window. Her dark hair glows gold in the light. She’s reading, of course. Her eyes shift slowly across the page, calm and steady.

“Hey” you say, leaning against the doorframe.

She looks up and smiles “Good morning.”

“Whatcha reading?”

“A history of the West Blue. I’ve read it before.” She closes the book halfway, giving you her attention “Need something?”

“Nope” you say way too fast. Then you clear your throat “Just… curious.”

She tilts her head “About?”

You walk in slowly, sit in the chair across from her “Just thinking. If you could go anywhere right now—like, anywhere—where would it be?”

She blinks once. You swear you see a smile tug at the corner of her mouth “Hm. An island with warm springs, maybe. Somewhere quiet. With flowers. And a garden.”

You nod like it’s just a random conversation “Cool. Sounds peaceful.”

“It does,” she says, her voice soft “Why do you ask?”

You fake a shrug “Just wondering. Y’know. Getting to know you better.”

Robin rests her chin on her hand “After a whole year together?”

You freeze. Then laugh, awkward “Hey, people are deep. You’re deep. You never stop knowing people.”

She smiles wider “Is this an interrogation?”

“No” you lie.

She chuckles “Mm.”

Later that day, you try again.

You’re both in the kitchen. She’s slicing fruit. You’re pretending to look for a spoon.

“So, uh… what do you think about jewelry?” you ask, real casual.

Robin pauses “Depends on the piece.”

“Like, what kind?”

She doesn’t look at you. Just slices another strawberry “I like things with meaning. Stories behind them.”

You watch her fingers, so careful, so precise.

“Not too flashy,” she adds “And not gold. I prefer silver.”

You nod again “Cool, cool, good to know.”

She turns slightly, eyes twinkling “Still just ‘getting to know me’, right?”

You grin sheepishly “Exactly.”

That night, you find a pressed flower on your pillow.

A deep purple violet. Soft and dried, carefully placed.

You stare at it for a long moment.

Robin walks in behind you “Found that in the garden this morning.”

You hold it up “It’s pretty.”

She nods “They say violets mean loyalty and devotion. Fitting, don’t you think?”

You swallow “Yeah.”

Robin walks past you, her fingers brushing your hand “I’m sure whatever you’re not planning will be perfect.”

You groan “I’m being obvious, aren’t I?”

“Very.” She’s laughing now “But I like it.”

You make the mistake of walking into the kitchen during dinner prep. Steam, shouting, clanging. A dangerous place to be, especially when you’re about to ask for a favor.

Sanji spins around, chopping vegetables like it’s a sport. He sees you.

“You’re either lost or about to ruin my rhythm,” he says “Which is it?”

You hold your hands up “Peace offering.”

You reach into your pocket and pull out a folded napkin with a doodle of a cake on it “Actually, bribe.”

He frowns, wipes his hands on a towel “That better not be what I think it is.”

“I need a cake.”

He groans like you just insulted his entire bloodline “For who?”

You raise an eyebrow “You know for who.”

He sighs, dramatic “Why must I suffer for the love story of others? Especially when it doesn’t include me?”

“Because you love love, you love us.” you say, giving him your best puppy eyes “And because you’re the best chef and I trust you more than anything.”

Sanji pauses.

“…Okay, maybe not more than anything, but you’re up there.”

He rolls his eyes, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitching.

“You want me to make a cake for your anniversary with Robin.” He says it like it’s a crime.

You nod “It has to be pretty, but not too pretty. No gold or anything fake-fancy. Something natural. Maybe violets? She left one on my pillow. I think it’s a hint.”

He frowns in thought “Violet cake?”

“With berries, maybe? Something light. She’s not big on sweets.”

He taps his chin “Maybe something with lavender… lemon… I could make a violet jam glaze.”

You clasp your hands together like you’re praying “Please, Sanji. You’d be saving my life.”

He turns away like he’s deeply wounded “You two… celebrating your perfect little romance, while I—”

“Alone by the sea,” you say, joining his fake dramatics “A lonely prince in an apron.”

He glares at you “Mock me again and I’ll make it heart-shaped just to embarrass you.”

You blink “Wait, that actually sounds kinda cute.”

Sanji gags.

But after a second, he laughs and waves you off “Fine. I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

“Name it.”

He points a spoon at you “You let me read the card you write her.”

Your soul leaves your body “Absolutely not.”

He grins, walking back to his stove “Then no cake.”

“Fine!” You huff “You can read half of it.”

“Deal.”

Later that night, you see Robin reading again, quiet in her corner. You smile to yourself.

Step one: Cake? In progress.

Three days.

Three long days.

You ask everyone for help with the gift.

Franky? “How about a miniature model of the Sunny? Made of cola cans?”

Usopp? “Slingshot, but like… romantic.”

Zoro? “Give her a nap.”

Luffy? “MEAT! Wait, no, give it to me!”

You consider jumping off the ship.

You’re back in your room, hunched over your desk. The room smells like glue and metal polish. Your fingers are covered in tiny cuts and sparkly dust. Your back aches.

You’ve made four versions already. All in the trash bin.

None of them feel right.

None of them are her.

But you look at the pressed violet she gave you, still tucked safely in a book on your shelf. That little moment. That soft smile. You pick it up like it’s sacred.

And finally something clicks.

You work in secret. Every night. Every spare hour. No one comes in. No one disturbs.

But what you don’t know is that Robin sees everything.

She sees the glint of metal in your trash bin one morning, a broken chain, bits of purple glass.

She sees you bent over your desk, chewing your bottom lip, tongue poking out in focus.

She watches you test beads against the light, run your fingers along delicate silver wire, smooth out paper, carefully fold and seal a violet into a crystal-clear bookmark base.

And she says nothing. Not even when you prick your finger and hiss.

Not even when you mutter, “Stupid chain won’t stay…”

She just watches. Quiet. Soft-eyed. Heart full.

You finally finish it on the fifth try.

The bookmark is slim, clear, and delicate. The violet is perfectly preserved, pressed inside like it’s floating. The chain dangles from the top, silver, detailed, looped with small purple beads that match the flower. It shimmers when you turn it in the light.

You hold it up, breathless.

She’ll like this… right?

You hope so.

That night, you sit in bed and stare at the ceiling again.

Cake: check.

Gift: done.

Flowers: soon.

You don’t notice Robin peek into your room as she walks past. She sees the bookmark on your desk, wrapped gently in purple paper.

She smiles to herself.

She doesn’t need to ask anything.

She already knows.

You stare at the blank card for twenty minutes.

Just… stare.

Pen in hand. Brain? Gone.

You’ve fought sea monsters, survived storms, and once ate something Sanji warned you not to, but this tiny piece of folded paper has defeated you.

You sigh, put your head down on the table “This shouldn’t be so hard…”

Eventually, the words start coming.

Not all at once. Not easily.

But they come.

You write slow, careful.

Dear Robin,

I’ve rewritten this twenty times in my head, but none of it feels enough. You make things quiet when they’re loud. You make complicated things feel simple. You make me feel seen.

You’re the calm in the chaos. The reason I breathe a little softer. Smile a little easier.

Thank you for a whole year of knowing your laugh, your books, your voice, your warmth. I want more years. I want all of them.

And I hope this tiny gift tells you what my words can’t: I’m really, really in love with you.

— Yours.

You stare at it for a while. Then you tuck it in the envelope and slide it under the bookmark’s ribbon.

Your hands are shaking.

The next morning, you wake up early. Really early. Before Sanji’s even had coffee.

The ship has docked on a quiet little island, green hills, wildflowers, a few birds singing.

You peek over the rail. The shore’s empty.

Perfect.

You pull your bag tight, check your pockets, and RUN.

“WHAT THE—?!” Luffy jumps back, mouth full of toast.

“Why’s she sprinting like that?!” Usopp yells “She possessed or what?!”

Sanji leans over the railing, baffled “Oi! What the hell—?!”

You’re already halfway down the dock. Hair flying. Boots slapping wood.

Mission: Flowers has begun.

You have to get them now.

Before Robin sees you. Before she follows with that knowing look in her eyes.

She can’t know yet.

You dive into the trees, heart pounding.

Somewhere out here violets wait.

The flowers are beautiful.

You find them in a little clearing beyond the trees, tucked in the shade, wild and purple, just like the one Robin gave you. You kneel down gently, careful, careful, snipping them with the small scissors you stole from Chopper’s drawer.

You’re smiling.

This is it. The last piece.

You’ve done it.

And then Snap.

You hear it before you feel it.

Your ankle twists beneath you as you stand too fast on uneven roots. Your foot slips sideways, and you fall hard, pain flashing up your leg like fire.

“Shit—!” You grab your ankle, squeezing your eyes shut.

You’re alone.

You sit in the clearing for what feels like forever, trying to breathe through it.

The flowers rest gently in your lap, undamaged.

Of course they’re fine.

You try to stand.

Bad idea.

You nearly scream.

Then leaves rustle behind you.

“Oi!”

Zoro’s voice breaks through the trees like a sudden gust of wind.

You don’t even look up “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” he says, appearing in front of you “Sitting in the forest, holding flowers like a broken Disney princess.”

You glare “Shut up.”

He crouches down, eyes narrowing “What happened?”

“Twisted my ankle.”

He clicks his tongue “Idiot.”

“Helpful.”

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, then without asking, slides one arm under your knees and the other behind your back.

“Wait, what— Zoro, don’t—”

“Too late.” He lifts you easily.

Your arms shoot out around his neck, flowers clutched tight in your hand “Bridal style? Seriously?”

“You wanna crawl back?”

“…Carry on.”

The journey back is… rough.

Zoro gets lost. Twice. And blames you.

“I told you it was left—”

“You pointed at a tree, Zoro!”

“They all look the same!”

By the time you make it out of the trees and back toward the dock, you’re exhausted, sweating, and the pain is making your eyes glassy.

But then you finally see the ship and the crowd waiting for you.

Luffy’s eyes go wide.

Sanji drops a ladle.

Usopp gasps like a telenovela character.

“She’s injured!”

“She’s DEAD!”

“She’s not dead!” Chopper yells, running down the ramp.

Robin is already moving.

She doesn’t run but she walks fast. Eyes sharp. Voice calm but urgent.

“What happened?” she says as soon as Zoro steps on deck.

“Twisted ankle, the idiot…” he says, like he’s annoyed for you.

Chopper is already at your leg, poking and inspecting. Robin crouches beside him, her hands hovering but not touching yet. Her face is unreadable.

But her eyes… you’ve never seen her eyes like this. Worried. Soft. Scared?

You feel a lump in your throat.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper, not really sure why.

Robin finally looks at you, really looks “What for?”

You hold out the bouquet of violets, now a little wilted from the heat and being pressed between your chest and Zoro’s arm.

“I ruined the surprise,” you mumble “And I made you worry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

There’s a silence.

Robin’s hand moves gently to your cheek.

Her thumb brushes away a bit of dirt.

“You’re more important than a surprise” she says quietly.

You try not to cry. You fail.

It’s supposed to be your anniversary.

But instead of flowers and stolen kisses, you’re lying in bed, ankle wrapped, body aching, and heart sinking deeper by the minute.

You stare at the ceiling.

Blankly.

Silently.

The gift is wrapped on the nightstand. The bouquet’s in a cup beside it, petals still pretty but you can’t even look at them now without guilt curling in your chest.

You hear soft footsteps.

Robin appears in your doorway.

You try to smile. You fail.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice cracked “I ruined everything.”

She steps closer. Doesn’t speak yet.

“I had this whole plan,” you keep rambling, “and now I can’t even get up. I didn’t want you to have to take care of me today.”

Robin sits gently on the edge of the bed, her hand finding yours “You think I’d want anything else?”

You look away “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”

She leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead.

Then she stands. Smooth, quiet, like she already knows something you don’t “I’ll be back soon.”

And just like that, she leaves you.

Still guilty.

Still stuck.

Still thinking about what should have been.

An hour later, you hear the door creak open again.

Robin enters with something in her hands.

And behind her Sanji. Arms full. Slightly sweating. Muttering to himself about “ungrateful romantics who don’t know how lucky they are.”

You sit up, confused, blinking.

Robin gives Sanji a small nod. He places two covered plates on your desk. She wheels the desk closer, lines it up perfectly to your bed.

Then she sets down a little folded cloth napkin.

“I asked Sanji to help me cook,” she says, as if it’s just a casual thing “Nothing complicated, but maybe it’s not what you imagined… Still romantic, isn’t it?” She smiles, tilting her head slightly “Just the two of us.”

You stare at her.

At the food. The soft candle she lit. The cloth she laid out with silverware. Two glasses of water with thin slices of lemon in them. Everything thoughtful. Everything gentle.

Your eyes sting already.

Robin settles in beside you, plate in front of her, legs crossed neatly on the side of your bed. She starts eating like this is normal. Like this is good.

And maybe… it is.

You take a bite. You laugh softly, “It’s warm.”

“Of course it is” she says, smiling.

After you finish, another knock, Sanji again.

This time he walks in with a familiar glass-covered tray.

“I, uh… thought you might want this after,” he mumbles “Even though you were busy—getting lost in the forest—injuring yourself—”

He reveals the cake with a dramatic flourish.

And you freeze.

The violet glaze. The soft pearls. The little sugared flower.

Exactly how you imagined it.

Exactly what you forgot.

Your brain can’t even catch up.

You cover your mouth and you cry.

Not loud. Not ugly.

Just quiet. Grateful. Trembling. Real.

Sanji blinks “I—I didn’t think it was that bad—”

“She’s just happy,” Robin says calmly, her eyes still on you. Like she knows every single thought in your head “And grateful.”

You nod hard, wiping your cheeks “Yes. That.”

Robin takes your hand under the table and you squeeze it.

Maybe it’s not the day you imagined.

But it’s yours.

And hers.

After the cake is eaten (well, half-eaten… Luffy tries to sneak the rest but Robin stops him with just one look), the room grows quiet again.

Robin’s still sitting close, one hand resting on your bed, her calm presence grounding you. Your cheeks are warm, your eyes still a little swollen from all the crying, but you feel lighter now. More sure. More ready.

Your heart is beating fast.

Because now comes the part you’ve been waiting and panicking for.

You reach over to your nightstand.

“I, um…” You hold out the wrapped bookmark and the little letter tucked under its ribbon “I know it’s not fancy. I messed up a lot before I got it right. But… I made this for you.”

Robin tilts her head, gently accepting the gift. Her fingers are soft, slow, unwrapping the paper like it’s something delicate. Like it matters.

She pulls out the bookmark.

The pressed violet, perfectly preserved. The slim silver chain, glinting with purple beads. Her eyes linger on the flower.

“This is the one I gave you” she says softly.

You nod “I kept it. I wanted to give it back… but not just as it was.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just looks at it, turning it in her fingers, eyes gentle.

Then she opens the letter.

You don’t breathe.

She reads it all. Word by word. No reaction on her face. Just silence. Until she looks up and meets your eyes.

And smiles.

That small, real smile. The one that reaches her eyes.

“I love it” she says.

And then, with the same care, she leans forward and kisses you. Slow. Warm. Like a promise.

After, she stands “I suppose it’s my turn now.”

You blink “Wait, you have something for me?”

“Of course.” She walks to the shelf by the door and picks up a small, thin box. It’s wrapped in dark blue paper, tied with a ribbon “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

She places it on your lap.

You unwrap it, slower now, heart racing again.

Inside: a book.

But not just any book.

Your breath catches.

The title is simple, your name.

You open it and realize what it is.

It’s a journal.

Written by her.

Memories. Notes. Moments.

The first time you made her laugh.

The time you fell asleep on her shoulder.

The flower you gave her.

The way you pout when you focus.

Pages of her handwriting, beautiful and smooth.

One page is a drawing. A pressed violet sketched in soft ink.

Another is a quote “I’ve studied many stories. But you’re my favorite one.”

You’re not even blinking anymore. You’re just staring, overwhelmed.

Robin’s voice is quiet beside you “I started writing it after our first few weeks together. I wanted to remember everything. Every small piece.”

You cover your mouth again.

“Too much?” she asks, teasing gently.

You shake your head, tears welling up all over again “No. It’s perfect.”

She smiles “Then it’s yours.”

You pull her into a hug, the book clutched to your chest.

Maybe you didn’t have the perfect day.

But she saw you, just like always, and gave you something only she could give.

Something that said: You matter. You’re loved. I remember everything.

You spent the day reading the journal together and reminding of your time together, as the sun starts to dip low, spilling golden light through the small window of your room.

The ship is quiet for once.

The others are giving you space, either because they’re thoughtful, or afraid of Robin’s Look.

The journal still rests in your lap, fingers brushing over the edge of the page where she wrote:

“You make the world feel softer.”

You look at her.

She’s beside you again, leaning back on one hand, watching the sky change color through the open door. That little smile plays on her lips, thoughtful, content.

“Robin...” you say softly.

She turns.

You reach out, fingers brushing her hand. You thread them together.

“You’re not just the best part of this day. You’re the best part of… everything.”

She laughs gently, tilting her head.

“You’ve gotten more poetic since I met you.”

You smile, cheeks warm “It’s your fault. You got me reading.”

She leans closer, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear “Maybe. But you’ve always had the words. You just didn’t know where to put them yet.”

Her hand stays on your cheek now.

And then, finally, you kiss her.

It’s slow. Soft. The kind of kiss that says everything without needing any more letters.

Her hand slides behind your neck, yours curls around her wrist. You tilt your head just slightly, and she meets you again, this time deeper. Warmer.

Like the world outside doesn’t exist.

Like your bruised ankle doesn’t matter.

Like your heart is a story and she’s reading it out loud, one word at a time.

When you part, you keep your foreheads together.

“I love you” you whisper.

Her breath brushes your lips.

“And I love you.” A pause “Very much, in fact.”

You laugh, the kind of laugh that sounds like it lives in your chest now.

Like home.

She pulls you into her again, gentle as always, until you’re curled in her arms with the journal resting safely beside you.

The sky turns purple.

The sea hums beneath the ship.

And for once, nothing else matters.

#fic rec #multistation fic rec #one piece x reader #one piece #nico robin #nico robin x reader #fem reader #afab reader #mod logan #community recommended

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