#and then i wrote at least one fic for every ship

[daydadahlias]

samesiesss i just wasnt sure bc i *think* i've seen u post about lashton b4 but whatever-

that was years ago, my friend, I've since outgrown my lashton phase ✋

[lordsardine]

.

[netscapenavigaytor]

if i had a nickel for every time while headcanoning character dynamics that don't exist much in canon, i ended up making the fan-favorite yaoi pairing instead a worryingly toxic friendship that's only hanging on by a thread, i would have two nickels but it's weird that it happened twice

[yayakoishii]

Want | Sanji x Chubby! Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Chubby! Reader

WC: 5.5k

Genre: Fluff, slight Angst

Warnings: Sexual harrasment, derogatory terms for chubby people, mentions of blood, insecurities that lead to a bit of light self derogation (Please remember you're absolutely beautiful as you are <3)

A/n: The response on Hunger is insane. Over 700 likes?! I didn't expect much beyond a few 10-20 likes, thank you for all the love 😭 This is another self indulgent fic, more personal to me because I'm chubby myself so... I'm not super proud of the pacing tbh, but it's still pretty good, in my (biased) opinion, haha. I hope you enjoy it!!! ♡

also available on ao3!

When you joined the Straw Hat crew, you didn't expect to fall in love with the blonde chef.

Actually, when you joined them, you weren't in the mindset to think about love and silly crushes. Your island had been destroyed by the Marines for a 'good cause' and despite the Straw Hats' best attempt, you were the only remaining survivor. Luffy kindly offered you a place on his crew, and you joined as an assistant to Chopper, slowly learning from him.

The first few weeks after you joined were tough for you, who had never travelled outside of your island. It took time to get used to the environmental changes along with the emotional grief of losing all your loved ones. The crew tried their best to cheer you up in their own ways, and you would forever be grateful for every one of them for at least trying, even if their methods weren't the most effective for you. It was the thought and the sentiment behind it that counted.

But what did work for you was… food. Ever since you were a child, you had loved food and it was the way you connected to life. Though you were not the greatest cook out there, you were capable of making things that were edible and quite good at times. On the ship though, you never had to cook, because Sanji would always do all the cooking. Whenever you offered to help, to take your mind off the pain you were feeling, he would kindly decline, saying that he would make you whatever you wanted.

But he couldn't. The dishes from your island were not recipes known quite to the rest of the world. Hell, even you didn't know all of them, save for some of your favourite foods that you had learnt from your mother. So you snuck in after dinner and made a dish from your hometown. It wasn't the best food you ever cooked, but it still meant something to you, because you were reminded of home.

You wrote down all the recipes you knew into a book, and kept it close. Whenever you missed your home, you would sneak into the kitchen at night and make yourself something with your wonky cooking skills that made the dish taste different every time. Still, the familiarity was enough to comfort you and let you wallow in the grief at the same time.

Until one day, you couldn't find your book.

"Nami?" You called unsurely to the navigator, who was lying on the deck under shade next to Robin. Behind them, Sanji was serving drinks. The three looked at you in question and suddenly under the scrutiny, your confidence faltered. "Um, uh.. d- did you see a journal somewhere? I can't find mine…"

"The brown one?" She asked, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. You nodded frantically, hoping she knew. "I don't think I did. Did you check under your bed?"

"I did," you whispered, feeling the sadness wash over you again. It's not like you didn't still remember the recipes, but your memory wasn't the best. Without the book, it would be hard to remember them all.

"Don't worry, we'll find it," Nami got up and reassured you, looking concerned. "Sanji. Robin."

The two of them nodded along and then the four of you were searching for it everywhere, until Sanji had to excuse himself apologetically because he had to go cook lunch. You could only nod, trying not to get down in the dumps again over a book, but it felt a little hopeless. Until you heard Sanji shout from the kitchen. The three of you ran over to find him scolding Luffy, your journal in his hand.

"I just wanted to see what was in it!" Luffy pouted, his rubbery hands swinging around to try and get it back.

"That's an invasion of privacy, Luffy!" Sanji looked angry, but you were too relieved about the fact that you had found the book to get upset with Luffy.

"It's okay," you said, reaching forward to get the book. "It's just… recipes, Luffy. From my hometown."

There was silence in the kitchen for a few seconds and Luffy's face dropped into a serious look.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I thought… If I knew how to help you, you'd be happier."

It made you laugh softly, your heart warm at his kind intentions.

"Thank you, Captain," you smiled at him, eyes crinkling into crescent moons. "I am happy here. I just… miss my home, sometimes."

He wrapped you into a hug and Nami ruffled your hair a little. You smiled under the attention, holding the book close. Sanji for once was quiet, just staring at the book thoughtfully, though you didn't notice it then.

A few days after that event, Sanji called you to the kitchen before lunchtime. Curiously, you followed him to find… a plate of your favourite dish from your hometown. It was plated beautifully, making it look fancy and yet it still had that homey feeling to it. Sanji didn't say a word, just held out the chair for you to sit. You sat down in a daze, too focused on the smell of it lingering in the room.

It smelled like home.

And when you tasted it, you burst into tears. Because it tasted like home. It tasted exactly like your mom's. All the tears you had held back to not worry the crew were now spilling out without any end but you didn't care. Here, where only Sanji could see you, you let it all out. He didn't say anything, just placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezed to let you know he's there for you. You turned around to face him, but the tears made it all blurry. Knocking your head against his stomach, you cried harder.

Sanji just held your head, carding fingers through your hair in comfort, offering you a handkerchief. That, you realised later, was the moment your feelings for Sanji began.

✿

After that day, you became a lot happier. Somehow, without words, just eating the food that Sanji made was enough to heal your broken heart bit by bit. Sometimes, he made extra because Luffy was curious and wanted to taste it too; and then the whole crew wanted it so Sanji made a few of your dishes for dinner. In that moment, surrounded by the smell of home, around your new family, your heart finally started healing.

You started noticing Sanji everywhere after you got used to life on the Thousand Sunny. From the small things he does, to the loud expressions of love he made, everything about him seemed wonderful and warm to you. Because you knew that beneath his overt affections for all the ladies, he was an infinitely kind, caring and observant person. How were you supposed to not fall for him, when he went above and beyond for you?

And yet, for all his admissions of love, you never believed that he could truly like you back like you felt for him. You were after all, not the prettiest girl around and you knew that. You were not slim like Nami or Robin, and it's not like you absolutely hated your soft and squishy body. But you wondered if Sanji would like you even though you weren't pretty.

All that self consciousness went out the window every time you were in his presence. He never made you feel less, or ugly– in fact, the way he spoke to you always left you a blushing mess. He made you feel special, and in the moment, it would be enough. Until you saw him fawning over Nami or Robin, and then the sneaky voice in your brain would whisper quiet thoughts comparing you to them. You had no chance with him, and you knew that.

And that was fine. You could live with that, couldn't you? You had to, because wanting more than you should never ended well. All it would leave behind is rejection, hurt and awkwardness. So you pressed down the feelings and acted as normally as you could.

The moment you realised that you loved Sanji was probably a memory you would never forget. Although it was unforgettable for you, it probably wasn't particularly that unique to others. That didn't matter to you because it was a memory you cherished ultimately.

It happened when the ship docked on a peaceful little island. Everyone else was going out to enjoy their time, and you wanted to spend that time with Sanji. So, casually, you made your request.

"Sanji?" Your timid utterance of his name got an instant reaction from the chef, who straightened up and looked at you with hearts in his eyes.

"Yes, (y/n)-chan?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Um, you're gonna go grocery shopping, right?" You had seen Nami complaining while handing him the money for the shopping.

"That's right," he leaned closer, almost too close but not quite into your personal bubble. Still, the proximity was enough for you to smell the mild smell of his perfume that left you a little weak in the knees. "Did you want me to get something for you, sweetheart?"

"I just," you hesitated, suddenly scared that he might realise your feelings and get disgusted. No, Sanji wasn't like that, you had to remind yourself. He would never treat you unkindly, even if he knew your feelings. "I heard you always do it alone. I thought you might enjoy some company?"

The hearts in Sanji's eyes disappeared as he stared at you like you were speaking gibberish for a few seconds. Under the intensity of that stare, you fidgeted and waited for his response.

"You're too kind, (y/n)-chan!" He finally cried, holding up your hands in his own bigger and colder ones. You flushed at the action, stammering out an actual gibberish response this time before you were whisked away by the blonde chef to town.

It felt all too much like a date to you, when you walked next to him. Sanji somehow made grocery shopping fun, or maybe that was just because of how much you liked him that anything with him was enjoyable? It didn't matter, you decided, because whichever it was, you couldn't deny that Sanji was equivalent to the sun on a cold day.

He enthusiastically showed you around, as if you were a tourist and he were a guide (when in fact, it was the first time in this town for both of you) causing you to giggle. Whenever you stopped to buy things, he would humour your curious questions on how to pick which vegetable and what cuts of which meat are the best. It felt awfully like a domestic date, one that made you smile when you imagined doing this with Sanji years down the line every week.

"And that's the last of it!" Sanji said happily, picking up the last bag. He was holding all the bags since the start, despite your insistence and now you were anxious, seeing him hold so many bags in his hands.

"Sanji, let me hold a few," you tried again, hands reaching out to take some of them. But Sanji just turned around so you couldn't reach the bags and grinned down at you.

"Nonsense, how could I let such a delicate lady hold such heavy bags?" His words made you flush in embarrassment. You were not delicate in any sense; surely, Sanji knew that too. And in spite of all his sincerity, the word just felt like it was mocking you.

"I'm… not…," you struggled to say, not wanting to argue but unable to keep it in either. With your chubby frame, no one had ever considered you as delicate.

"Let me do this for you, my love," Sanji's voice was soft and infinitely gentle, as if he was indeed holding something fragile in his hands. "I wouldn't feel good letting you carry anything when I'm more than capable."

"But Sanji!" you lightly whined, wringing your hands. "I don't feel good letting you carry all the burden either! Come on, just a few bags?"

Before Sanji could respond, you heard a scared squeak. Your brows furrowed and you looked around the marketplace, finding a man cornering a girl a few feet behind Sanji. She seemed uncomfortable and he was all in her personal space, saying something in a rough, sleazy voice that gave you shivers.

You were not a fighter, but the instinct to protect her overtook the rational part of your brain and you crossed the distance to where they were. Pushing him back, you stood in front of the girl to block her from him.

"Can't you see she's uncomfortable?" You said coldly. "Back off."

The man took an involuntary step back until his eyes fell on you. He reeked of alcohol and smoke and you felt like puking from the putrid stench coming off him but you held it together, trying to come off as more confident than you felt. His eyes roamed over your body shamelessly, and you felt dirty and uncomfortable from the action.

"Don't get in our business, fatty," he grinned, the smell of alcohol doubling the moment he opened his mouth. "Are you jealous that no one will ever give you the attention she's getting?"

The words stabbed you in the gut, even though you knew rationally that you were better off without the bad attention. That was the one perk of being conventionally average in looks– no one really looked at you, in good ways or bad. Or maybe you had just been lucky so far. But hearing him call you that, saying those words, even from someone like him, it hurt a small part of you. Before you could respond, a leg in black slacks came up and kicked the man down with such a force that everybody around paused, shocked by the sudden action.

Even you stepped back automatically, gasping when you saw that it was Sanji, still balancing all the bags perfectly while he had roundhouse kicked the man into the ground with so much force that you could see his teeth had become bloody and he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

"(Y/n)-chan doesn't need the attention of sewer rats like you," he said calmly, straightening back into position smoothly. "Her beauty only deserves the best of the best."

The sight of Sanji saying that with a calm face, his hair slightly tousled, his hands balancing the bags and his leg muscles rippling under the slacks – that image was imprinted in your heart and brain for the rest of your life. The words sent you into a shock, but when they finally processed, you couldn't deny the overwhelming realisation that crashed into you.

You love Sanji.

It wasn't just a silly crush, or something that could go away if you gave it time. The chef had unknowingly carved himself a place into your heart. He was taking over it, chamber by chamber.

"Sanji…" The word came out as a whisper, inaudible under the din of the market as people were talking about what was going on. You snapped out of it when you felt the girl behind you shuffle and you immediately squashed your thoughts down to examine them later. You turned around and asked her, "Are you okay?"

She looked very alarmed and upset, but she still shot you a grateful smile as she murmured, "Yes, thanks to you two."

"He didn't hurt you?" You asked, hands hovering over her as you looked to ensure if she was safe. A peek of crimson caught your eye when she raised her hand to rub her face. Her elbows had scraped against the rough brick wall in his tousling. "You have some scratches!"

"Oh," she turned her arms to look at the wounds, now feeling the burn after the adrenaline and fear response was receding.

"Come on, I'll treat it for you," you offered, opening your sling bag which had some emergency first aid. You usually carried it around for the members when you were off the ship, knowing that they were all too reckless to give a second thought to any wounds.

"Oh, no, no, I couldn't trouble you more!" She said, mortified but you gently shook your head, offering her a hand.

"It's no trouble," you reassured her. It took a little bit of convincing but she eventually calmed down and let you clean up the wound before you parted. Finally, you allowed yourself to look at Sanji, who immediately schooled his features so you wouldn't see the warm adoring look he was giving you the whole time. "Sanji… Are you okay too? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"Do you think I'm that weak, sweetheart?" He smiled teasingly, but you felt the need to defend yourself.

"I know you are strong," you insisted, worrying your lower lip as you tried to look him straight in the eyes but kept getting flustered. "But even strong people get wounds. Just because they are strong, doesn't mean that they don't feel the pain. So tell me honestly, Sanji. Are you hurt anywhere?'

"No," he promised. "But if you're that worried, I'll let you check me all out back on the ship."

He ended that with a wink, and this time, you couldn't hold back the flush threatening to overtake your face again. Sanji couldn't help making the mood light again, but he had no idea of the effect his words had on you.

"Stupid," you weakly pawed at his arm, walking away before he could say anything. The blonde chef just laughed and followed you, face once again soft and fond as he watched you.

✿

Sanji may have been one of the only people onboard who was oblivious to your feelings, because a few of them did figure it out after watching the way you interacted with him. The first ones to realise were Nami and Robin, who called you out on it when the three of you were lying under the shade on the sunny deck.

"Really?" Nami had scrunched her nose, eyes critically analysing Sanji as he walked (danced, really) back to the kitchens after serving drinks to the three of you.

"Really what?" You asked, too busy sipping the cool drink to notice that she had noticed the way you had warmly thanked Sanji and given him a bright smile.

"Sanji?" Nami gave you a pointed look. The name made you freeze, and you tried to play it off.

"What about him?"

"Oh, come on!" Nami threw the slice of lemon that was on her drink. You caught it before it could fall on your shirt and muttered an indignant 'hey!' that the navigator ignored. "You like him, don't you?"

The words were enough to make you hide your face in embarrassment. Robin was smiling knowingly from the other side of Nami and you felt exposed, like they had both just turned you inside out.

"I do," you whispered after the few minutes of silent mortification that Nami had spent in self satisfaction.

"Why that loser though?" She said without any real bite. You knew she wasn't actually demeaning him; it was affectionate, in the way one would talk about their sibling's lovelife.

"Because!" You whispered, eyes running everywhere to check if no one else was around to hear you. "Have you looked at him? He's literally so pretty! He is kind, caring, and so, so thoughtful and generous. Without expecting anything in return, he is always giving and giving and he makes my stomach do silly things. He has curly eyebrows, Nami! I didn't think those could look good on anyone. Hell, I know I would look ugly with them, but he makes it work! It suits him, and he's so beautiful and I'm just–"

You collapsed onto your chair, your wet fingers from the condensation on the drink glass finding purchase in the dips of your face to hide it. Just talking about him was enough to get your heart beating fast, and the mortification of what you had just spilled to the two girls made you want the ground to swallow you already.

"You really like him," Robin's soft observation made you relax. She wasn't teasing you. You turned to look at her and caught the comforting smile she was sending your way.

"I was going to say you could do better," Nami turned to face you, swinging her feet around to your side, "but after hearing all that, I think… You two are perfect for each other. Despite all his antics, he has a good heart. And you'll be good for him, because you see him as he is."

"Yeah?" You couldn't help the small flower of hope blossoming in your chest.

"Really," Nami smiled, a rare genuine smile that was usually reserved for late night talks and reassurances in down times.

"You don't think…." You trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of your top, "he won't… find me good enough?"

"Are you crazy?" Nami snorted, picking up her drink. The melted ice had made the level go up so much that it was threatening to spill any moment. "You're better than anything he could dream of. I told you, didn't I? You would be good for him. Having someone like you in his life to ground him, I think there's nothing better than that. You're one of the sweetest people I have ever met. If anyone here isn't good enough, it's him."

"Hey now," you frowned, ready to defend Sanji but hearing his voice stopped you.

"Who isn't good enough for (y/n)-chan?" His face was stuck in a weird smile, like he was forcing it. He carefully placed the plate of pastries he had brought as he continued casually despite the silence, "I don't know who we are talking about but Nami-chan is right. No one is good enough for our lovely (y/n)-chan."

"Oh, look at that!" You hurriedly switched the topic, looking at the plate he had brought. The tiny pastries were adorable and colourful, looking so delicious that it would have made your mouth water if you weren't distracted at the moment. "This looks so good, Sanji. Seriously, if you keep feeding me like this, my weight will keep increasing!"

The last line became a teasing complaint, but you didn't expect Sanji to come to the side of your chair and lean down to where you were tilted. The proximity caused your eyes to widen, the blood thundering in your ears as he carefully tucked in a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, face so soft and warm that it make your insides feel like they were vibrating.

"All the more for me to love, so I would keep winning, wouldn't I, sweetheart?"

You choked, and the need to get away from him before you did something wild like grab him and kiss him got so much that your knee accidentally shot up and into Sanji's back, pushing him forward. The chef's eyes widened at the sudden attack, but he managed to not collapse on you by quickly holding onto the sides of the chair but now you were trapped in between his arms on top of the close proximity.

It made you so weak in the knees, and there was something hot and warm curling in your gut as you stammered gibberish, feeling like you were about to faint because Sanji's chest was practically touching yours and it was all too much.

"SORRY!" He hurriedly backed off the moment he got his bearings, and for the first time since you had come onboard, you saw him have a genuinely heavily flushed face. There was a little blood starting to leak from one of his nostrils and somehow, it helped you calm down. He was just as affected as you were. The idea was enough to lessen your embarrassment by a little.

"I'm the one who's sorry, Sanji," you said remorsefully, hiding your face completely in your hands this time. "I kicked you!"

"It wasn't on purpose," he said, right hand coming up to hide the blush on his own face. "I'm sorry for… for making you uncomfortable, (y/n)-chan!"

Uncomfortable? Did Sanji have any clue just how comfortable you actually felt? The problem wasn't that you were uncomfortable in the proximity; it was that you were too comfortable, to the point that you never wanted to leave. But that would be a dead giveaway of your feelings, right?

"Okay, this is just painful to watch now," Nami sighed, jolting the two of you. You had nearly forgotten that she and Robin were right there, and they had seen everything. She looked at you unhappily, mouth set in a tight line. "How about you two get a room and make out there?"

"Nami!" You cried out. She really just gave away your crush like that?!

"Just be grateful I'm not demanding money to make up for what I just had to witness," she sniffed haughtily, swinging her legs back onto the chair and pulling down her sunglasses. "Seriously, you two, go talk shit out. Or else, knowing you, you will just be awkward around each other and that's gonna be even more painful to watch."

She wasn't totally wrong. You were planning to avoid him, possibly by jumping off the Sunny and drowning to death since you didn't know how to swim. But that wasn't really a solution and even you could admit that.

"W- What's there to talk-?" Sanji seemed a little scared, wide eyes glancing between the three of you. Nami ignored him, and you were too flustered to look him in the eyes. Nami's suggestion was essentially for you to come clean, wasn't it? But that was easier said than done. The fear of rejection and the eventual awkwardness was gripping your insides in a chokehold, and you couldn't move your feet even if you tried.

"Sanji," Robin said calmly. "Pick up (y/n) and go to the kitchen."

"Huh?" You were startled at her words. Pick you up?! No way! "No, no way, I'm too… I'm too heavy, there's no need for that!" Even as you said that, you couldn't actually bring yourself to move.

"I don't really get it," Sanji admitted, looking between the three of you as he spoke, "but I can do that. (Y/n)-chan?"

"No, Sanji–" the protests died down the moment he bent down and picked you up like you weighed nothing. Even as he walked you across the deck, you couldn't help but think that it was kind of hot just how easily he picked you up. "Sanji…"

He didn't look at you until you were in the kitchen and the door was closed behind the two of you. He walked over to the table and then carefully placed you on it, as if you were a teacup made of fine china teetering with tea. Finally, he let his clear blue eyes stare down at you, the expression on his face more vulnerable and exposed than you had ever seen on him.

"Sanji?"

"I know I made you uncomfortable," he said quietly, backing away. His hands came up to rub away the blood but it only made it spread around and you winced at seeing that. You never wanted to see any blood on Sanji, if you could help it. "I touched your… you. It wasn't my intention, I swear! I just, I wanted, I–"

He abruptly shut up, looking frustrated with himself.

"Sanji."

He didn't look up, fists clenching at his side the moment you said his name.

"Come here, Sanji," you whispered, holding out your hands to beckon him closer. His eyes flickered over your face, as if trying to gauge out what you were feeling, even as he followed through your request without a second thought. You pulled out the handkerchief he had given you long back, and wiped away the blood over his upper lip and cheeks carefully before you picked up his hand. The thumb was bloody too, so you gently held the limb in one of your hands and wiped it with the other. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, Sanji."

He stayed quiet as you continued to wipe it until it was all gone.

"Didn't I?" He said the moment you were done.

"No," you said, looking up at him. You didn't let go of the hand, though you dropped the handkerchief beside you. Somehow, holding his hand seemed to give you the courage to make the admission Nami had told you to. "I… Sanji, I like you. A lot more than I ever thought it was possible to feel towards someone. I like you so much that it physically hurts when I see you flirting with other women. I like you so much that my heart feels warm whenever you are around, and I feel so safe in your arms that I never want to leave. I like it when you are close to me. But I know that you don't like me like that, so whenever you get so close, and I can't help but want you so much, it's painful for me. I never want to let you go."

Sanji's eyes darkened with every word you spoke, a gradual change that you didn't notice at first because you were all in over your head. His hands hovered around your waist as you finished.

"Who told you?" His voice was a little hoarse, and he cleared his throat the moment he realised how desperate he sounded.

"Told me what?" You asked timidly, looking down at your lap.

"That I don't like you?" Sanji's voice was a broken whisper like yours had been. "I have never heard anything more untrue than that. All this time, I wanted you but I kept my feelings to myself. Because you deserve so much, so much more than I am, so much more than I can give. I wanted and I wanted and I felt so greedy, wanting more and more of you, more than you would let me have– I wanted anything you were ready to give, and I also wanted everything you have to give. I thought you wouldn't want someone like me, when there are so many better options around for you–"

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh. All his words were making you delirious; this had to be some wild dream you had conjured up. It didn't feel real. None of it did. "I had better options around? Sanji, I was so sure you would never look twice at me! I never felt like I was pretty enough, or good enough to get your attention and you're telling me… I had better options? That's so–"

You kept laughing, body shaking from the weight of the laughter. Sanji stared at you, unsure hands still hovering around you. His fingers twitched from holding back the urge to pull you into him.

"You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen," he mumbled. "Not good enough to get my attention? Darling, you have had all of my attention ever since I met you. No other woman could compare to you from the moment you made your place in my heart known."

"Did I really have all your attention?" You asked, letting your insecurities bubble up. Now that you were both being honest, it was better to get it all out of the way, right? "Even when you looked at the other women…"

"I never looked at them the way I did you," his words were sincere, and in that moment, they were enough. You looked up at him, and your body broke into shivers the moment you realised the heat in his eyes as he stared down at you; like you were some unique dish he was finally getting the chance to eat after years of craving it.

"I didn't want the other options, Sanji," you whispered, the volume enough for the proximity you were in. "The only one I ever wanted was you."

You held his collars and pulled him in, and it was like he finally snapped, now that he had permission. His hands immediately grasped at your sides, gently holding the soft flesh there as he kissed you. And now it was your time to give and give, while he took from you like your lips were spilling with ambrosia and he was determined to get every drop. His warm breath fanned over your lips and the goosebumps on your skin rose again, your fingers tightening around the collars of his shirt.

When he let your lips go, he was greeted with the sight of your flushed and pleasantly buzzed expression, like you were drunk on him. Seeing you like that, because of him, it was enough to get him groaning.

"So beautiful," he whispered, leaving feather light kisses all over your face. "So gorgeous. All for me. All… for me to have?"

"Yeah," you whispered, looking up at him and seeing the devastated yet over-the-moon expression on Sanji's face. Even without words, he could always just cleave into your heart and press himself within its walls like they were made to fit him, and only him. "You can be greedy. Take all you want. I'm all yours."

°•❀•°

[cyberrose2001]

Under Pressure

MTMTE Rodimus x Reader

GRAHH SURPRISE!!!!

Relic and I have been... discussing... very hard about an ask they got a couple days ago so I wrote this eheh (THANK YOU FOR DISCUSSING THIS WITH ME AND LETTING ME WRITE THIS ILY)

Also please yell at me if I forgot any warnings!

Loosely based of this ask over on @callsign-relic's blog

Warnings: Human reader, Giant/Tiny, Non-Con(?), Nocturnal emission, Crack fic(?)

Word count: 1,887

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Rodimus denies it every time, but he's a heavy sleeper. He snores like a congested rhino; he constantly sets twelve alarms that only barely stir him from his slumber. Despite being captain of the ship, his sleep schedule is far from tip-top shape.

And no, you're not a stalker. You're just Rodimus' observant little 'pet' human, always there, with a California king on his bedside dresser. Yeah, you're treated like royalty by an incredibly hard-to-deny hot alien robot.

So, as the ship ventured further into deep space and the nights got colder, you whined and begged to stay with him.

Rodimus was very hesitant to let you join him in the berth. As much as he cared about you and would kill an army for you, he didn't want to accidentally kill you, which was very much a possibility in any scenario on this ship. But he caved. You had mastered the sad, wet cat look, and Rodimus had the willpower of a rock.

Relishing in victory, you're curled up comfortably against Rodimus' lower plating for the third consecutive night in a row, warmed by the large servo of a sleeping giant. The entire palm of his hand covers your back in subconscious protection, and every so often, you feel a twitch of one digit. It's tranquility and a rare comfort, the touch of another you haven't felt since being on earth.

Until he rolls over.

Rodimus, choking on his snores, flips over onto his stomach and nearly tosses you off the berth if not for the grip he has on you. Despite almost winding you and making an audible 'Oof' sound, he doesn't wake up, his unconscious body assuming another comfortable position.

It takes you a few moments to register what the fuck just happened, but you realise that you're now underneath Rodimus. Almost his entire body weight is now pressed against you and pins you to the berth.

Oh god, you think to yourself.

This is less than ideal; this was not supposed to happen. How the hell are you, a tiny ass human, supposed to get out from under him? You probably shouldn't even be alive right now with how restricted your breathing is, not to mention how hard he flopped on top of you. But thankfully, with how Rodimus' legs have fallen into position, it leaves you with just enough room for your chest to rise and fall.

"God." You whine, muffled as your cheeks squish against his abdominal plating.

Your mind runs wild as you try to think of a way out. Maybe he'll just roll over again soon? God, you hope so; you can handle only so much weight, and Rodimus feels like he could hold down a cargo ship. Probably because he can.

But until then, however long that may be, you need to try something at least.

"Rodimus?" You try to wiggle but to no avail. He has you pinned pinned, and you use what little breath you have to yell out to him, "Hello? Are you awake or what?"

A loud, seemingly exaggerated snore replies to you. He's still deep in recharge, ruining any chance you have of waking him up yourself. You try to use your nails to scratch the surface of his frame, hoping it would tickle him or something, but that doesn't work either.

"Great." You roll your eyes, only you would ever end up in this type of situation. If only you had listened to Rodimus when he first said no, then you wouldn't be currently experiencing a near death experi-

"Y/n..." Rodimus' hoarse voice crackles above you, sending vibrations through your bones.

"Oh, thank god," You sigh in relief. You attempt to wiggle around some more, hoping to get his attention this time, "Listen, can you get off me now? This kinda hur-"

You squeak softly in pain as his sharp pelvis presses against you, and you hear your name again. This time, though, the tone of his voice came out as a whine, like a soft plea.

Because of where you were positioned before you became a pea under a princess' tower of mattresses, Rodimus' lower panels rested right against your stomach. This means you can feel his panels start to bulge slightly.

Oh no, you think to yourself bleakly once again. You're not sure how similar Cybertronian anatomy is to humans, apart from a crude explanation by an engex drunk Swerve. Still, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're feeling him getting hard. Putting two-and-two together using two out of the five senses, you've realised that Rodimus is nearly boner deep in a wet dream.

And not to assume, but you're thinking that the star of the show is you.

It's also the wrong time to cackle to yourself about getting crushed by your crush.

You might have some issues to work out after with Rung.

"Oh fuck," You reasonably panic, trying to push against his heavy frame weakly with your pinned arms, "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck-"

You start to thrash against Rodimus when your arms fail, your tiny body rubbing up against him. This doesn't help at all, you've come to realise but actually digs you in a deeper hole as he begins to rock his pelvis into you.

Rodimus moans your name again as he sleepily grinds against you. Whatever he's dreaming of, it must be an insanely hot pornographic fantasy of you. The bulge grows bigger, pining you down further into the berth. He shutters and lets out a soft groan before his plating shifts, and you feel a very thick, very hard, and very hot object slide up against you.

Oh god, it's his dick.

Swerve might not have told you all the details, but he seemed to conveniently leave out how fucking huge Cybertronian cocks are.

As if you thought this couldn't get any more debilitating, you now have the head of Rodimus' spike pressing against your face. It's as if the Alaskan bull worm had slithered up between yourself and Rodimus to give you a kiss. The behemoth of baggage has already started leaking what you would believe would be the Cybertronian equivalent to pre-cum, smearing all across your face.

At this significant turn of events, you've realised you have come to a crossroads.

Either struggle and continue to wiggle and wrangle your way out from under him, but risk pleasuring him, whether or not he could feel you squirming against him anyway with how small you are compared to it. Or, the more realistic and obtainable outcome, lie still and take it until he wakes up from an orgasm.

Who are you kidding? You don't have much of a choice at all. Both options risk you drowning in alien robot cum. It's wishful thinking as Rodimus starts to rut against your entire body again.

"Y/n..." He whimpers again, though very garbled and unintelligible. Every roll of his hips causes more pre-cum to dribble against your face and down your chest, and with each, it spreads all around in between yourself and his train-sized spike. Making an absolute mess of you.

If you weren't getting humped up against right now, you would indeed find a way to kill him for ruining your only set of pajamas.

"Rodimus-" You gag as a spurt of pre-cum falls into your mouth, "Guh- Rodimus stop-"

His work of venting increases, and so does his rutting. The comatose mech gasps and hitches his breath, oblivious to your cries and pleas for him to stop. He pushes up against you in heated desperation, fucking into your soft body like a grind pad.

"Rodimus! Wake the fuck up!" You start to heat up yourself; the increased pressure and friction of his plating will give you a fucked up version of carpet burn if he doesn't wake up. Sweat drips from your skin, adding even more lubricant to his incessant grinding.

"Wha- Oh, Primus!" Rodimus rears his drool-covered helm and cries out in equal confusion and unrestrained pleasure. He's woken up by his overload as he shoots his load up against you, flooding the minimal empty space left between you both with hot transfluid.

"Oh god-" You couldn't close your mouth in time when a spurt of transfluid hit you in the face, causing you to cough and spit it back out, only for more to splat you in the face.

Rodimus moans tiredly, shuttering violently as his spike pulses and leaks the remainder of his overload against the berth.

Or what he thought was the berth. Since when did he use a self-service mod on his spike? Especially when he shares a room with-

"Hey!" Cough, "Are you done?"

His optics slam open in horrific realisation.

"Oh no," Rodimus rolls over onto his back, his softened wet spike flopping against his abdominal plating, "Oh no, no, no..."

He looks down where he once lay, and his face plates flush a bright blue. Laying in a puddle of his transfluids was you, his little human, sopping wet with a highly unimpressed look on your tiny face.

"Oh Primus, Y/n," Rodimus scoops you up in his servos, gently tossing you from hand to hand as he wrings them off his transfluids, "I am so sorry, I- frag what was I thinking!" Rodimus babbles and holds you to his face, "Are you okay? God, I'm so stupid-"

"Ughh," You lay limply in his palm, exhausted and out of breath, "After that... I don't know anymore."

Rodimus hides his blush with a servo before pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm glad you're okay, but what were you doing down there?"

"Great question," You lift your head up to deadpan him, then eventually drag yourself to sit up. Sticky, pink transfluid drips down your body. Your face, and hair, are all drenched in him, "It's not like you rolled over in your sleep and had me pinned for nearly half an hour. What the hell?"

Rodimus blinks, and his face turns a deeper shade of blue as he rubs the back of his neck, "Oh, so that's why I had that dream about you..."

Is he serious right now?

"Oh, you think?" You wipe your lip when it starts to drip into your mouth, "I think I could tell when you started moaning my name in your sleep."

"Well, you're just so tiny and soft and-" The red and yellow mech bites the knuckles of the servo not holding you in embarrassment. "But what was I supposed to do, huh? Hold it in?"

God, he is.

"I'm literally gonna kill you, Rodimus." You shiver, his transfluids cooling against your skin. You can't believe he dares to look you in the eye, "I am never begging to nap with you ever again, or maybe at least warn me next time."

"No offense taken," Rodimus nods in agreement for once, watching you wring your hair out, "I'm sorry, Y/n, I really am. I can help clean you up? As a sincere apology from yours truly?"

"As long as I don't come into contact with more of this stuff," You flick a bead of transfluid off your finger into his direction, "And you better be sorry, or it'll be a long time before I might actually let you fuck me."

"Wait, you'll what-" Splat, "EWUGH!!"

[frownyalfred]

Can I get clarification on your pro shipping post? The example you gave was a 20 year old with a 40 year old, and that's "problematic" (not really), but not really what I think of when I hear "pro shipping". Usually it's the shipping of minor/adult or incestuous relationships that I see getting defended. Does being against fictional works/ships that depict pedophilic or incestuous relationships as normal/romantic count as puritanism to you? Do you see the ship of Bruce Wayne/Damian Wayne as a personal preference with no moral implications?

I think there's a huge difference between being personally against something, and wanting to shame others or ban others from reading or writing something. The Puritanism comes from wanting to limit and ostracize others who don't share your beliefs. It comes from believing that your perspective is the only morally right one.

I think there will always be people who want to write or read about ships like that, yeah -- incest, pseudo-incest, everything in between. By moral implications, do you mean for the person interested in the ship? Or do you mean for others? Because I see that concern a lot on here -- this idea that somehow, by wanting to read/write about something, people are either 1) harming others by spreading this morally wrong ship or 2) harming themselves by normalizing the ship, and therefore making it more likely that they'll pursue similar relationships in their real lives.

We don't have much evidence for either of those claims. People have been clutching their pearls and wringing their hands over "morally wrong" books for ages -- and yet, Game of Thrones is still available in every bookstore. Am I a bad or woefully misguided person for having read Lolita in high school? Is a 16 year old reading a Bruce/Damian fic likely to turn around, shrug, and say "guess fucking my Dad is okay now"? Did an entire generation of fans shipping Wincest somehow have lasting, moral effects? I really don't think so. Not at the scale anti-shippers online seem to think, at least.

I think we need to separate how we moralize people from the content that they consume. And acknowledge that shaming and excluding people for wanting to read something doesn't exactly do much to prevent "moral implications." There's also a huge difference between reading a book, and endorsing the ideas/events inside of it. Same things with fics.

Anti-shipping is very appealing to people because it purports to protect people from harm. Until you look a little closer, and you realize that that protection comes at the expense of free expression, creative license, and agency to choose what we personally do and do not consume. And that that protection isn't really airtight out of your anti-shipping discord or tumblr community.

I think the best we can do is let people write and read what they want -- whatever they want, with limited warnings/etc like ao3 employs -- and ensure that those pieces of content are tagged, warned, and displayed accurately. We need to understand that the only control we have is over ourselves, and what we choose personally to consume or not consume.

I don't generally read those fics you mentioned, but I'm not saying they should be banned from ao3. Just because I might possibly think they're wrong or gross doesn't mean I think the person who wrote them is wrong or gross, either. The more we go down that moral slip and slide, like I said in my previous post, the worse off we will all become.

[vanishedinvain]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄

—𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader (but she doesn't show up yet, sorry lol)

summary: benedict's last moment of contentment before the storm that marooned his dreams.

warnings: very very brief mention of a gun, baby's first fic (it's me, i'm baby)

wc: 1.6k

next chapter // series masterlist

The Wiminet Art House sits just outside the limits of Mayfair, owned by the Dowager Baroness Lyra Wiminet. It is only half the size of a wing at Somerset House, and most of the artists are either anonymous or so unknown, they are as good as anonymous. It crams in an overwhelming number of pieces, barely a centimeter between each frame. It features a myriad of styles: soft landscapes, portraits, absurd finger-paintings, violent war scenes. 

When it first opened, every London newspaper dismissed it as the eccentricity of a widow, mad without a man to guide her. There was no cohesion, they said. Downright tasteless. Where was the class? The refinement? It was a laughingstock for all of two days before the ton moved on as they always did.

It was also Benedict Bridgerton’s most frequented gallery. And Eloise had no idea why.

“You have been here at least twenty times in the past year, and they have only changed a single painting,” Eloise pointed out on one of these trips. Though she did not prefer to visit the same blasted gallery with the same blasted paintings, it was more merciful than watching Daphne and their mother flit about the house searching for the perfect dress to secure a proposal from the Prussian prince.

Plus her brother promised to buy her an apricot ice afterwards.

“What could possibly be left to see?” she asked.

They were standing in front of a rather large seascape, one that spanned a quarter of the wall. Benedict turned away to look at Eloise, a grimace upon her face as she tried to see what her brother saw. It was a quality Benedict most appreciated in her; she was stubborn and quick to snark, but she never wrote off his interests as frivolous. She was attempting to understand, even if she was staring at the painting like it personally offended her.  

“Do you remember when you were eleven and Colin brought home that mystery novel for all of us? The one where an opera singer was killed in the middle of a show.”

“An Aria Most Deadly,” she recalled, smiling, “I couldn’t put it down. Col was scolded for bringing home such a—how did Mama word it?—terribly gruesome and improper book.”

He chuckled, remembering their mother’s scandalized face. As Colin was being scolded, she had set the book down on the settee. Eloise, ever nimble, snatched it and ran up to her room with nary a scuff across the floor.

“You re-read it over and over, looking for the clues, even after you’d finished it days prior. A snide comment from the stagehand that was once humorous turned dark. The author’s insistence on describing the location of the candelabra suddenly became obvious.��

“The details were so much clearer in hindsight,” she remarked.

“That is usually the privilege of hindsight.” He gestured back to the painting in front of them. “What do you see?”

She stared for a moment, tilting her head to one side to see if a change in angle would help. It was a turbulent scene, violent even, with outbursts of red and orange screaming amongst the cerulean and imposing slate clouds as the ship went down.

“A shipwreck?” Eloise answered with a shrug. “An unfortunately timed storm?”

Benedict stepped back, and grabbed Eloise by the shoulders, shifting her to the right so that she could stand in his place. “Do you see that spot of red on the ship?”

She squinted slightly. “Clearly, a fire broke out on the ship. Likely from the gunpowder catching on the wood. I mean, it says it in the title, Ship on Fire in Water,” she said, reading off the plaque underneath.

“But look closer at this spot of red at the front of the ship. Or that one by the captain’s quarters. Compare it to how the artist paints the flames,” Benedict insisted, gesturing to each area of interest. “He or she blends out the flames with orange and a bit of yellow usually. But these particular spots aren’t. They’re blended with brown. Maybe even a bit of black. That’s not fire, is it?”

Her eyebrows raised as the realization dawned on her. “It’s blood! Someone was killed. The captain, maybe?” She turned back to look at him in unbridled excitement at the newly-uncovered narrative.

Benedict smiled widely, crinkles forming around his eyes, watching his little sister finally get it, get him. “Possibly.”

“What do you think was the motive? Was it a mutiny?”

He shrugged. “That I am unsure of, dear sister. Every time I come back, I see something new. So, perhaps we need to look at it longer. Or make our rounds and come back with fresh eyes.”

Eloise had bounded off before he even finished.

They spent another two hours in the gallery, making little comments on each one, attempting to decipher a story from it. They even requested a step-ladder for the ones that had been skied because Benedict, having met Lady Wiminet, knew that there was no rhyme or reason as to the placement of each painting.

There was a most brilliant park scene about half a meter down from the ceiling. The artist did not draw a realistic, soft sunset, but a heightened one with punchy plums and a bright tangerine shade to blend. It was a bold choice that Benedict would’ve never thought of. The scene itself was of a promenade, much to Eloise’s displeasure, but she found amusement in mapping out the interpersonal relationships of the swans in the lake.

They made their way back to the bloodied, fiery ship shipwreck, standing in amicable silence before Eloise spoke.

“I understand it now. Why you've been here twenty times. Why you sketch until your fingers shake at dinner, but then use your drawings as fire kindle at night. You’re chasing greatness.”

“I want to get one of mine on these walls one day, El,” he said quietly, as if they weren’t the only people in the room. It was the first time he had admitted that ambition out loud.

“You will,” she replied, equally quiet back.

He sighed in relief. He wasn’t worried about Eloise’s reaction, though her vote of confidence was cherished. He was worried about being so unworthy that the words would refuse to roll off his tongue, lodging in his throat as a croak. But the idea was out there now, and a mirthful giddiness sprouted forth in the soil where his insecurities were rooted.

“I’d be anonymous, though,” he added after a pause.

She frowned, but neither of them made further comments on the subject. He already understood what she didn't verbalize. She dreaded living and dying in anonymity without a university degree or prolific novel attached to her name, something to outlast her that wasn’t a dullard husband or terrifying child. She could not stand the thought that the world might feel zero impact from her existence. 

Benedict, however, was far less eager to sign his name on a canvas. He could be displayed in any gallery in England if he simply asked, regardless of whether he was even good enough. Who would dare criticize a Bridgerton painting, with nine generations of viscounts breathing down their necks? If he were to ever put his name on any of his work, he wanted—needed—to be so good that everyone would be too awestruck by what was in front of them to check whose name was etched onto the little copper plaque beneath the frame.

This was one of the only points of incongruence between the second eldest Bridgerton brother and sister that couldn’t be remedied by a simple anecdote or shift to the right. Though, perhaps there was no need for one; a painter would never ask a writer to adjust her palette and a writer would never tell a painter his meter was off-tempo.

It was an afternoon well spent away from the ornery obligations of the social season, coming home with their appetites spoiled from the promised apricot ices. Benedict grabbed An Aria Most Deadly from the library, and read the first few chapters before retiring for the night. He’d finished the novel after he pried it away from Eloise years ago, so he knew it was the conductor who had killed the opera singer. This knowledge only pulled the deftly placed clues into crisp focus upon this second reading; even the first chapter was littered with hints.

Perhaps that is why when he sits in the viscount’s study, the one that was never supposed to go to him, he often thinks about the night of Granville’s party. That night began with him feeling so alive, more alive than he could ever fathom. Yet, it ended with a sinking stone of dread taking up a months-long residence in the pit of his stomach.

Were there clues he should’ve seen?

If he’d been less drunk off the wine or the women or both, he’d have noticed Daphne wasn’t wearing the necklace gifted to her by the prince, even though he clocked the ostentatious clunk of jewelry when she left for the Trowbridge Ball. Or that the hem of her dress was muddy and her face was pinched, on the verge of tears.

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with how to take advantage of his freedoms as the spare of the family, he’d have noticed the blooming violet bruises on Anthony’s knuckles as he yanked Benedict into the study with considerable force.

It wasn’t until he was rolling his shoulder, about to complain that his arm could've been popped out of its socket, when the gun box was placed on the desk with a resounding thud. 

Things only clicked into place as Anthony began frantically talking about estates and dowries and an appointment with the duke at dawn, but there were signs from the moment he walked in the door.

The details were always so much clearer in hindsight.

next chapter // series masterlist

a/n: they dropped new abc pictures last month, and i decided to make it everyone else's problem by starting this fic. now it’s bridgerton eve!!! rejoice!!!

[discordantwritings]

Captain’s Orders (Buggy x Reader)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MDNI, gn afab! Reader, angst, Buggy is bad at feelings, canon typical violence, oral, PiV sex, creampie

WC: 8.4k

Summary: Getting a job as the chronicler of the Buggy pirates was the best, then worst, then best thing that ever happened to you.

Notes: The second I realized I hadn’t done a solo buggy fic I wrote this I’m so sorry buggy

No one tells you how hard it is to keep a job on a pirate ship. Unless you manage to land with a big name captain the chances your job sinks to the bottom of the sea is pretty high. Which is what happened to your last three jobs- you were so tired of ending up on a dingy paddling away from a lost battle that you had no say in. You were a chronicler after all- not exactly a fighting pirate.

Despite being a non-essential crew member a chronicler was a sought after person. Every pirate thinks they are going to be the one to find the One Piece so, naturally, every pirate needs to have someone to log their journey to becoming king of the pirates. It was a little tiring, hearing the same story over and over again, writing the same few chapters only to end up waterlogged and searching for a new ship at the end.

But you needed to eat and you could only afford to live at this tavern for so long. You’d posted your services on the local board, listing your name and where you were staying in hopes of drawing in a pirate captain. One that hopefully won’t be going under in less than a month. And if you were really lucky- one that wasn’t so painfully textbook.

Really you should have known the gods were going to get you for wishing that.

When the clowns first walk into the tavern you wonder if you missed some signage that a carnival was coming into town. But when a distinctly dressed blue haired pirate captain walks in behind them- you put it all together. The Buggy Pirates were docked here. Their chronicler probably had their hands full but at least it wasn’t the same boring-

You notice when the barkeep points Buggy the Clown in your direction. The two of you make eye contact across the room and you quickly run through your memory to try and figure out what you could have possibly done to be hunted down by a big name pirate. As his heavy boots thud against the wooden floors you can’t think of a single time you’ve even brushed shoulders with any clowns let alone pirate ones. As Buggy looms over your table you frantically try and think of a way out of whatever sorry situation you’ve accidentally gotten yourself into only for that hurried train of thought to be abruptly derailed.

“You the chronicler who has that ad posted?”

It takes you probably too long to respond with a squeaky- “Yes?”

“Great!” The clown takes the chair next to you and sits down, quickly putting his feet up on the table. “Do you have examples of a resume or whatever?”

“You don’t already have a chronicler?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying more stupid things.

“Nope.” He shrugs and you see the rest of his crew settle in around the tavern.

“Oh. Well-“ You reach off to your side and take out a leather bound journal that has some of your work plastered in it. “Here’s some snippets.”

As you hand it over to Buggy you feel as his sea green eyes rake over you for a few moments before he finally takes the book. He flips to the first page, looks at it for maybe all of two seconds before snapping it shut. “How would you write about me?”

Then why did he even- “Well I think- see people sometimes assume a chronicler only writes down the basic facts are events but I think a real chronicler tells a story that the average person didn’t get to see or hear about. For example a lot of people heard about the Straw Hats taking you out at Orange Town-“

He sits up a bit, gaze hardening but you quickly continue. “But- I think there’s a different story there! They fought the fishmen so soon after your encounter with them and it’s no secret that the Arlong Crew was pushing their luck in the East Blue. So the story there should really be about how you used your genius to let the Straw Hats go and sent the Arlong Crew after them- letting your opponents fight it out and weaken each other.”

There’s a long pause where you feel the clown practically searing holes into your skin with his gaze until he finally breaks into a smile that rivals the one painted on his face. “That’s exactly it! You get it! People just need to hear the right side of the story! Start writing that down. That'll be your first entry as our chronicler.”

That is probably the most presumptuous way you’ve ever been offered a job but you certainly were not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Great!”

It’s only after Buggy then orders a round of drinks in celebration and the cheering begins that you realize something.

“I don’t have to wear a clown costume do I?”

You didn’t have to wear a clown costume but already in the few weeks you’ve been a member of the Buggy Pirates your wardrobe had gotten more colorful. A sequin scarf here- a bright blue shirt there- these things just landed in your bunk and it did help you fit in. You minded it less than you thought you would, being in a crew that actually put thought into how they looked was a pleasant change.

You tied a striped sash around your waist over your pants as you prepared to have your nightly debriefing with your new captain. During the day you flitted about the ship, taking notes on everything that happens. Every night though Buggy always wanted a check in. From letting him know what happened while he was doing other duties, to telling you some previous journeys that he and his crew had been, to embellishing the stories of the day.

It was nice having a captain who actually cared about what you were writing. Most had just left you to your own devices and didn’t much care for your craft beyond the fact it made them look good. But Buggy actually wants to listen to your words and he provides some actual good feedback (admittedly in a sea of crazy unbelievable ideas, but the point still stands).

Journals and pens tucked under your arms you navigate to the captain’s quarters, finally feeling comfortable navigating the large ship after walking this route twice a day. It’s not that long before you’re knocking on the large door and hear Buggy’s voice, muffled through the wood.

“C’mon in.”

You push through the door and see Buggy behind his desk, face laying sideways on a pile of paper. You take a seat across from him.

“You alright?” You ask, eyebrow raised.

“Being a captain is not all fun and games my dearest chronicler.” He pushes back on the desk, flopping back in his large seat and swinging his feet up on the desk, knocking over the papers in the process. “Responsibility is a heavy burden to bear.”

You look over the mounds of untouched paper work that have been sitting there since you first arrived. “Seems like it.”

“But now you are here to save me. Tell me my story weaver- what is the tale of the day.” When he looks at you you know you have his undivided attention. There was something so fulfilling about capturing his attention, something you’ve learned is so finicky and flighty. But for you? He’s never been distracted.

“Well, it’s been a pretty standard day.” You go into every detail that matters- what acts were practiced, who's flirting with who, what crew member Richie managed to bite a finger off of- that kind of stuff.

“You know- we should have a whole section where we track body parts Richie has eaten and see how many full people can be put together with the parts.” Buggy adds as you finish up your recap and you huff a laugh as you write that down.

“I think we’ll have a lot of spare fingers.” You point out.

“Good point. Full bodies and hands.” Slightly more sensible… kind of.

“Got it. I’ll start logging and asking around for people who have lost limbs to Richie.” You make the note and you see out of the edges of your vision as Buggy’s legs come off the desk and he leans over, getting a bit closer to you.

“Y’know I’ve told you many stories already- what about you?” His head settles in his hands, perched up by his elbows.

“What do you mean what about me?” You tilt your head, genuinely confused.

“Your stories! You said you were the chronicler for a few ships before mine, you must have had some adventures out on the great wide East Blue.”

“Ah, well… no.” You admit a bit awkwardly.

“No?” Buggy raises his eyebrows, clearly looking for more.

“I was just a chronicler. I didn't really do anything on the previous ships I worked on. Hell, you’re the first captain who actually wants to hear about what I’m writing. For everyone else it was just an ego trip to have someone writing for them…” Your pen slips into your journal as a placeholder as you close it and pull it close to your lap.

“That’s…” Buggy frowns. “What losers! Most pirates won’t know talent if it slaps them in the face.”

You try to bite back your smile but it’s pretty ineffective. “You’re very kind captain.”

“You’re going to have to learn to take some compliments because with my crew? We are going all the way to the top and your stories of our journeys are going to be known across all four seas!” As he talked he stood up, wildly gesturing as he talked about his grand plan.

When other captains of yours had talked about getting the One Piece it had always annoyed you for some reason. The hunt for fame and money was… well it was cliche. But there was something about the earnestness that Buggy talked with- the grand scale he always thought on that made you believe it.

“Well, I guess I will have to work on that.” You say as you look up at him.

“Yes. Captain’s orders.” He hops up to sit on his desk just adjacent to you. His right foot lightly knocks against the side of your left calf.

“Then I’ll have to do it.” You smile wide, his energy was infectious.

“But seriously, not a single story? There has to be one fun thing you can tell me.”

“I guess… there was this one time-“

You break into a small, stupid story but Buggy hangs on your every word. The second you’re done he shares a similar experience and you go back and forth like this for hours, journal where you were supposed to write these things down long forgotten. Somewhere along the way you both ended up sitting on the floor, leaned up against the desk and legs side by side as you both gesture wildly through your stories. You don’t know how long this goes on, but when you feel yourself fighting to open your eyes after you blink you think it might be way late.

“I should get to bed.” You nudge Buggy’s shoulder with your own, working up the strength to stand up.

“Oh yeah it’s like-“ His hand detaches and he grabs something off his desk before bringing it down to his face. “Oh shit- 3 already?”

“Wow-“ You look at the clock he grabbed and sure enough, 3:21 am. “Yeah I really need to get to bed. You too, captain.”

You get up with a grunt of effort and once you’re standing you turn around and offer up your hand to help Buggy up. There’s an awkward pause as he looks up at you and he must be just as tired as you are with how long it takes for him to clasp his hand in yours and pull himself up.

“See you tomorrow night captain.” You squeeze his hand before letting go and walking out the door.

You’re not sure why you feel a low buzz in your body, nerves up from some unknown source. It’s not a gnawing anxiety… something else you can’t place. No matter what the second your head hits the pillow you’re out like a light, body getting ready for another long day.

The Buggy Clowns were weirdly affectionate. Not all of them, mind you, you don’t think you’ll ever get Cabaji to even smile at you, but the camaraderie they have is intimate. Most of the time not in a sexual way (though you’d be remiss to ignore the raunchier performers in the circus), but in friendliness and touchiness. Never before have you been on such an affectionate crew.

Every time you put more than 10 seconds into your appearance you got hoots and hollers from most of the crew members. When you grab lunch in the mess people fight over who gets to sit with you and be documented. Even Richie has a soft side- you’ve managed to pet him without adding a body part to the now running list.

It’s been a few months now and they still fight over you at meals- a quirk you would have thought would die out long ago. Everyone is eager to tell you about their day and try and loop you into spending the rest of the day with them. Today the tightrope walkers win out- or at least they think so. Secretly you’ve made a schedule for when you follow each group and no one has caught onto your pattern yet. But it makes it easy for you and makes it so no one is favored.

But when they cheer and lean into you, arms wrapped around your shoulders you still feel like shrinking away in embarrassment. It’s not bad- you can’t deny the little ego boost it gives you- but there’s something that always makes your face burn. But all that is nothing compared to Buggy.

You quickly figure out that, like all crew attitudes, it trickles down from the top.

Of course Buggy isn’t going around hugging crew members (when he’s sober) and he does lose his temper often, but there’s also a softness to him. He’s got nicknames for everyone, and everyone gets their time in the spotlight. He personally reviews all the circus acts and when someone wants to do something new it’s rare he says no.

Everyone in the crew is a misfit, but because of that, no one is. A group of people who have never felt respected or wanted before suddenly find themselves belonging- it makes sense why everyone was surprisingly warm. But you still have a hard time handling it, especially when it comes to Buggy.

It’s the damn nicknames.

Story weaver, dearest chronicler, writing star. And the worst part? It’s always his.

My story weaver.

My star.

Never in a tone that makes you feel owned or degraded- quite the opposite really. You’re treasured, respected, seen. It’s been too long since you felt that way and the reblooming of those emotions was… uncomfortable.

But you don’t think you’d ever want it to stop.

“My lovely chronicler-“ It’s Buggy who suddenly throws you out of your thoughts with affection and a hand on your shoulder. “I have to cancel our meeting tonight.”

“What? Why?” You want to kick yourself for sounding even slightly hurt.

“Not your fault- turns out I’m a few days behind on planning out supply orders for when we dock tomorrow.” By a few days you know he means he hasn’t thought about supplies since they last docked.

“Oh, well, do you need help?” The second you finish your sentence you feel a light elbow in your side from one of the tightrope walkers but before you can turn to look at him your attention is grabbed by a clap from Buggy.

“Great! See you tonight!” He says, already walking away.

You turn to the source of the elbow. “What was that for?”

“I’m sorry, you totally just got suckered into doing all his paper work.” He says apologetically.

“Yeah, he’s done this with just about every crew member. You’re the only one who doesn’t know his trick.” Another one explains.

“Well, he is the captain, he could just make one of us do it.” You say, still very confused about this whole situation.

“Yeah, but then he has to admit that he messed up and needs someone else to do his work. This way he is just, I don’t know, reveling in his crew’s generosity.” Yeah, that sounds like him.

“I’m not going to get any sleep tonight am I.”

“Nope.” You get a few reassuring pats on the back as you slump onto the table.

“Captain?” Later in the day you knock on his door and come in at his usual ‘come in’.

You walk in and see papers everywhere. There’s no organization, no sense that he’s actually began to work on anything, just papers on almost every flat surface you can see. You don’t think half of these are relevant to what needs to be done.

“My darling most beloved star.” Buggy calls from behind his desk. He’s laying it on thick so you don’t run away.

“Did one of your bombs explode in here?” You carefully walk over to his desk, hopping over random papers on your way.

“Yes?” It’s obvious he’s lying.

“Well… I guess we have our work cut out for us.” You make it across from him and start looking at papers, trying to find some sense.

“Yes. I trust you implicitly- now I’m just going to go-“ He stands up and you glare at him.

“You’re not going anywhere.” You’re a little annoyed, but there’s no real malice in your words. Despite that, Buggy still shrinks back.

“But you’ve got this.” He says, confidence quickly draining from his voice.

“It would go a lot faster if we work together. Come on. We will start by organizing. Figure out what actually needs to be done for tomorrow and go from there.” You gesture to the mess on his desk before you get to work on the papers discarded on the floor.

“But-“

“No.” You cut him off without even looking at him- you know he’s using his puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” He grumbles and you hear the shift of papers that tells you he’s at least pretending to do something.

It takes you hours to get everything sorted but after that the actual work doesn’t take that long. You have a pretty good knowledge of what supplies everyone needs and the average use of those supplies in a day- you write it all down typically. All in all you’re done and dusted just before midnight, an accomplishment really.

Buggy is moping at his desk, the reward of a job well done isn’t really enough for him after he actually had to put in some effort. You’ve set up a schedule for him too- something he’ll probably ignore but you’re pretty hopeful.

“That’s it right?” His voice is partially muffled by his face being smooshed down into the wood of his desk.

“Yes, we are all done for the night.” You reply, straightening out the last stack of files on his desk.

“Yay.” His voice is flat and devoid of all joy.

“You’re pretty childish for a captain, you know that?” You take a seat across the desk, not quite ready to leave.

“That’s part of my charm darling.” He lifts his face so his chin is resting on the desk.

Darling.

That was a new one.

“It’s not your best feature but I guess it is a part of your whole deal.” You admit, still trying to shake off the weird stirring of emotions from the new pet name.

He perks up instantly, sitting up in his chair. “What’s my best feature?”

“Hm?”

“You said it’s not my best feature, which implies you know my best feature. What is it?” His smile is wide, matching his face paint.

“Ah-“ Well. You know exactly what his best feature is but you hesitate to say. It’s not what a pirate captain typically wants to hear but… well he’s anything but typical.

“I think your best feature is that you care. Genuinely. You yell and stomp around at the crew but you always make sure all of our needs are met. To some people finding the One Piece is just the thing pirates do but you care with every fiber of your being. When you want to do something, really want to do it, you throw yourself into it for better or for worse. Your risks end up paying off more often than not and I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

There’s an awkward pause where Buggy’s smile drops a bit and he stares at you and you think that you’ve fucked up. He is still a pirate captain with an ego and not telling him that his strength or intellect was his best feature was a dumb mistake. But then he coughs, a fake awkward cough and you’re not sure what’s going on.

“Oh that’s- yeah- I mean what am I if not the best captain to work for in all of the seas.” The smile returns to his face but there’s something you can’t place and you feel like you’ve misstepped.

“It’s late- I should go-“ You stand up and quickly head to the door but Buggy’s voice stops you right before you exit.

“Hey-“ You turn and look at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” There’s more hovering in the space between you but none of it can be put into words.

You leave.

Even if the Buggy pirates were worlds different from any other crew you had worked with they still party like every other pirate crew after a victory. Just a little more explosive. Literally.

You had never seen fireworks before so you were laying down on an upper deck while the loud party raged a few decks down, reveling in the bright and colorful explosions that shattered across the sky. You know Buggy made them all himself, he was surprisingly talented in pyrotechnics. It was overwhelming to your senses in the way that Buggy often was-

You’ve found yourself thinking more and more about him recently. You don’t want to think about what that means so you just shove those things down and focus on the shimmering colors dancing around the sky.

Until, of course, your captain finds you.

“My star! We are all missing our chronicler at the party!” His head peaks up over the ladder as he calls to you but you wave a dismissive hand.

“I’m just enjoying the fireworks, I’ll be down later.” You say, perched up on your elbows.

Buggy pulls himself all the way up the ladder before walking over and taking a seat next to you. “I’m glad someone is enjoying all my hard work.”

“I’d never seen fireworks before tonight.” You admit, laying back down fully.

“Really? Well I’m glad I could introduce you.” He lays down as well, only a few inches separating you two as you both lay flat on your backs.

“It’s- I mean I have no idea how you do it. It’s seriously magic.” You turn your head to look at him, admiring the profile of his face under the multicolored lights of the fireworks.

“It’s all chemicals and patience. I know, surprising that I have that.” He looks at you, a sly smile on his face.

“There really is nothing our fearless captain can’t do when he puts his mind to it.” You half joke, nudging his arm with your elbow. “But really- how do you get all those different colors?”

“Well-“

As the different fireworks explode in the sky he tells you the different chemicals he used to get the respective colors and effects. Somewhere in the explanations and pointing he’s right next to you, arms and thighs pressed together. You can’t help but lean into his warmth against the cool wind of the sea.

“I guess there will have to be a chapter on fireworks in your chronicle.” You say after the fireworks slowly die out, all of them used up by now.

“You can just slide that chapter in when things get too boring. Wake readers up with an explosion!” His hand gestures over both of your bodies.

“I’m not sure there will be any time where your story will be too boring. I’m pretty sure just by being a clown pirate you’re always interesting.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Buggy turn his face towards yours. In turn you move your face as well, and you can feel his warm breath fan over your face.

He’s really quite beautiful in the moonlight.

“Do you really think that?” He asks, so quiet you almost don’t hear him over the low drone of the party below.

“Of course.” You answer automatically.

“I uh-“ You see a panic set over his face and you wonder if you’ve done something wrong. He sits up and you sit up in turn, confusion on your face.

“I should get back down to the party. It’s been-“ He stands up and practically trips over his own feet. “Nice.”

You watch him quickly descend the ladder and you’re suddenly very aware of how cold it is out on the deck at night.

You’re not sure what you did, but you messed something up.

You stop having your nightly meetings. It’s once a week now and he blames it on the recent partnership with Alvida and her crew but you know there’s something else. You got too comfortable with your captain and distance had to be created. You were disrespectful and you needed to learn your place.

You weren’t his anymore.

Chronicler, sure. Star, sometimes. You almost despised when he used your actual name. The burning feeling of being discarded weighs in your chest every time you see him.

It was only after how painful and hard you took the slightest bit of rejection that you realized you might have feelings for your captain. Stupid inappropriate feelings. You hadn’t put the label on it before, pushing any feelings down into the pit of your gut but with how quickly they turned sour you couldn’t help but feel them rise up and burn your throat.

Stupid how you realize these things too late.

Because now there’s a new crew, a new partnership, and plenty of shiny new objects for Buggy to be enamored with. None of them you.

You still did your job through- dutifully chronicling each day. Your emotions will pass and this job is still far and away the best you’ve ever landed. You won’t throw it away over a stupid unrequited crush.

It’ll pass.

Someday.

But today isn’t that day as a pang rings through your chest as you see Buggy loop an arm around Alvida’s shoulder and pull her in close. You know there’s nothing going on between the two of them (you’re fairly confident Alvida doesn’t swing that way) but seeing him pay attention to someone else the way he paid attention to you-

You sounded like a child didn’t you.

You were just about to excuse yourself from the area when Buggy spots you and calls you over with a quick shout of your title. Taking a deep breath you steel yourself and put on a smile before walking over.

“Yes captain?” You say, overly formal as you hold your journal close.

“I was thinking maybe you could do a few weeks with the Alvida pirates, you know, get a better look at their side of things! Wrap them into the story of the Genius Jester!” He gestured grandly with his free hand.

“Oh, well, if that’s okay with captain Alvida…” You look towards the dark haired woman who shrugs.

“I’ve never had a chronicler before so I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing what it’s all about.”

“Great! Our perfect partnership continues!” Buggy looks at you. “How’s a month sound?”

A month. He wants to get rid of you for a whole month. You swallow down your emotions. “When have I ever not followed my captain’s orders?”

“You are a loyal crew member. And it’s not like you aren’t going to see all of your crew mates! It’s just shifting focus for a bit.” It’s true, both crews frequently overlap ships but you know you’re going to be glued to that gaudy pink ship (not that the ship you were currently on wasn’t gaudy, just a different kind).

“Fine by me captain.” You say, making your voice as cheerful as possible.

“Great.”

“Good.”

There’s a long pause where the two of you are just standing there, Alvida casting glances to both of you.

“Well if that’s all I’ll go pack some of my things for my stay.” You say, already taking a step backwards.

“Yes, good idea! Always taking initiative!” He waves goodbye and you turn around as fast as possible, walking at a brisk pace when you really want to run.

Working with Alvida wasn’t bad at all. You checked in with her once a week and she was pretty receptive to your work, provided you added in a lot of extra pages about how beautiful she was. At first it was annoying, but once you got used to it she was surprisingly nice to you.

You were two weeks into your month with her and she was already asking you about how to hire her own chronicler. It was rewarding to know that you’ve done a good enough job so far that she would seek out someone like you. You were working hard, trying to shift your focus from your emotions into something more productive.

It didn’t work.

Every day you found yourself looking around the decks hoping to catch a glimpse of your captain visiting. He was never there.

You saw plenty of your other crew mates- both crews frequented both ships as you sailed together. It was nice having that familiarity, but the reminder that you were specifically sent away while they got to go back to their ship every night stung.

“Ah, chronicler.” Alvida’s voice shook you out of your thoughts, having zoned out while recording what the meals were for the day in the kitchen.

“Hello Alvida, was there something you needed?” Your finger slipped into your journal as a placeholder as you turned your attention to her.

“Yes. I just finished discussing some business with Buggy and your good work came up.” You couldn’t help but puff up a bit- You did want him to know you were still exceeding at your job. “And then he made me an offer that I’d like to extend to you. He said if I wanted you full time I had his permission, so. Would you like to be my chronicler?”

There’s a full 30 seconds that you have to take to process the words that were said to you and come up with a response that doesn’t sound like your heart just got shattered into a million pieces.

“Oh wow, that’s quite the offer I- uh-“ Your mind is struggling to work under the weight of your emotions and Alvida catches on that you’re overwhelmed.

“It��s a big change so you can take some time to think about it. Just come to me when you have your answer.” She gives you a curt nod before heading off, leaving you with your spiraling thoughts.

You manage to hold back your tears until you’re at you bunk, burying your face in your pillow to catch your flow of tears. There was something so painful about being shipped off to someone else, being so unwanted he couldn’t stand to work with you anymore. You’re not even sure what you did wrong which might be the most frustrating part.

If you could lead this all back to one action you took maybe you could make it better- maybe you could go back.

But you didn’t.

You know when you’re not wanted.

Later that day you knock on Alvida’s door and accept her offer. All your stuff is already on her ship so you don’t ever have to step foot on Buggy’s ship ever again.

It’s easier that way.

A month has gone by of officially being the chronicler of the Alvida pirates. It’s… fine. Painfully fine. Perfectly average.

You stop wearing bright colors, swapped out for the pinks and reds that cover the ship. You still keep your old clothes, tucked away in a box that also has the journal you used to chronicle your time the the Buggy pirates. The sequins and stripes keep it safe and far away from you, letting you pull back at the last second before you obsessively repour over the pages to find where you went wrong.

You were getting better.

You stopped crying every night, you stopped longing looking over the bow at Buggy’s ship, you stopped searching for him whenever your old crew came over.

The lingering feelings will pass soon, and you eagerly count down the days until your heart patches itself up and moves on.

It was easy to ignore your emotions during a storm. All your energy focused on locking up your stuff and going where you were needed- you were a chronicler but all hands on deck meant all hands.

It was a nasty storm- lighting and high waves bashing against the hull repeatedly and ruthlessly. You were down below deck, sent on your own to grab emergency medical supplies from deep storage, two crew members had already broken bones and there were probably going to be countless other injuries before the storm let up. Boxes shoved in your arms you were making your way back up to the medical bay when you heard it- the sound you never want to hear below deck.

The sound of wood breaking.

You hear the hit of a strong wave before the groaning of wood and then that dreaded sound. You only have a second to process it before you hear the flood of seawater rushing in. Dropping the boxes you quickly jump to the ladder, scrambling up as you hear water flooding in behind you.

You make it up the ladder and halfway to the next one before the next wave hits. Your world jolts under you and you’re flung to the floor and the back of your head hits the deck- hard.

Your vision swims as you feel sea water rushing over your body and you push yourself up, ignoring the nausea overwhelming your senses. You crawl to the ladder, water threatening to grab and pull you under. Grasping the rung of the ladder you try to pull yourself up before your realize just how hurt you must be.

The pain, the blurry vision, you barely have control over your body. There’s no way you can pull yourself up the ladder. The sea was going to take you and you didn’t have the senses about you to swim. It was over.

You hang your head, watching the water swell up around your body as you wonder if all your works will go missing to the sea. Maybe there will be nothing left of you. Or maybe someone will find your journal- just dry enough that the words haven’t dissolved and run together. Maybe someone will remember you.

Somewhere in the distance someone shouts your name.

You’re confident it’s your addled mind playing tricks on you until it’s louder and right above you- loud and frantic. You look upwards and see Buggy, rain soaked and panicked.

Now you’re really confident you’re seeing things.

“Grab my hand!” He lays down on the deck above you and extends his hand and everything becomes real painfully fast.

“Get out of here! The water- You can’t-“ You yell out, head throbbing.

“I said grab my hand! Captain’s orders!” He shouts and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him so serious.

Gathering up all the strength in your body you pull yourself up a few rungs until you can reach out and grab his hand, quickly being violently pulled up the rest of the way.

“Can you walk?” He asks, yanking you up to your feet. You fall into his body, answering his question for him. “Alright.”

Suddenly one of his arms is under your knees and the other is around your shoulders and you’re being carried, your vision obscured by Buggy’s clothes. It’s better that way, you think hazily, to see him and not your death waiting to swallow you up. Maybe it’s a trick your mind is playing and you’re down in that lower deck, knocked out and drowning. But as you curl up against him and your thoughts fade to nothingness it’s a trick you’re willing to accept.

If your last thoughts are of him it’s not a bad way to go.

You wake up with a start- jolting up in bed before realizing how much that sudden action hurts. Your hand flies to the back of your head and you realize it’s been bandaged up.

“Hey- take it easy.” Eyes flicking up you see Buggy standing up from a chair in the corner of your room.

Your room- back on Buggy’s ship.

“You really should lay back down.” He’s a few steps closer now and in the dimmed light of the room you can finally get a good look at him.

He looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes, he probably hasn’t shaved in a few days, and his normal face paint is missing. He’s down to just his vest and pants, normal bright accessories missing.

The memories of the ship sinking come rushing back to you and a panic sets into your chest. “Wait what happened- the ship- the crew-“

“Hey, hey, it’s alright calm down.” He sits down on the bed and takes one of your hands in his. “Alvida’s ship sank, but we managed to get everyone out and on here before she went down.”

Your breathing evens out and you relax a bit. “Good.”

“We were calling everyone to get on board here right when you had left to go grab supplies- you were missing so I came and got you.” He explains, putting the remaining pieces together for you.

“You-“

“Just wanted to make sure you woke up alright so now I-“ He drops your hand and stands up. “Will go.”

He gets to the door before your words stop him.

“You shouldn’t have done that. It was- you could have easily died. You can’t swim and you didn’t even-“ You screw your eyes shut, brain still putting itself back together from the hard hit.

“Captain’s duties.” He explains shortly, hand still on the doorknob and not looking at you.

“Yeah but, you’re not my captain. You made it painfully clear you did not want to be my captain.” You swing your feet off the bed, glaring holes into his back as weeks of repressed emotions come leaking out the broken and battered seams.

“It’s not like that-“ He says, forehead meeting the wood of your door.

“Then what is it like then? Because I’m just confused and hurt! I don’t understand!” Your hands fist in the sheets of your bed as tears well up in your eyes.

“Please don’t-“ He turns around and you see the hurt in his eyes. “Don’t cry.”

“Then tell me what I did wrong!” You shout, hot tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Nothing. You did nothing wrong.” He wrings his hands and looks down at the floor. “You’re too- you’re too good for me.”

The words ring in the dim space and confusion comes over your already frazzled mind. “What?”

“You- okay.” He takes a deep breath and shift from foot to foot. “You have this grand idea of who I am. You think I’m smart and caring and a good captain and that’s just not true. I’m not any of those things. I’m just a huge faker. I was never meant to be a captain- I just keep doing it because I have to.”

You look over his anxious form and finally see what he’s been hiding under all those flashy clothes and bright face paint. He was truly and painfully insecure.

You go to stand up, slipping off the bed to try and land on your feet but your vision blurs and you slip and you’re sure you’re going to crack your head on the floor again. But before you can land your being held, Buggy’s hands having quickly detached and grabbed you. The rest of his body runs over only seconds later, connecting his hands back and placing you delicately back on your bed.

You’re sitting up again, Buggy anxiously standing next to the bed as he looks over your body, checking to make sure you’re okay. This time you reach out, taking Buggy’s hand despite the fact you can see him wanting to run away again.

“Buggy, you’re really stupid sometimes.” You see his face shift into pure confusion and you elaborate. “I don’t think those things because of all the acts you put on- I think those things because that’s what I really think after spending so much time with you. I know who you are, don’t think I don’t.”

Buggy practically collapses, sitting next to you on the bed. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” You grip harder on his hand, pulling yourself closer to him.

“Because I don’t want to disappoint you.” He admits, his voice cracking under his emotions.

“You- all this time- Buggy, look at me.” You pull at his hand, urging him to follow your directive.

He does and you see all the emotions you’ve been feeling swirling in his eyes. “I care about you. And I don’t care if you think you’ll disappoint me! I just want you.”

You feel something break as you stare into each others eyes and in a flash he’s on you- lips pressing harshly against yours. He’s messy and harsh and frantic as he overwhelms you and you let him. Your freehand tangles in his hair and holds his head close. Neither of you break the kiss until you absolutely need to, pulling away gasping for air as spit still connects the two of you.

“Do you mean it?” He whispers, forehead pressed against yours.

“Did it feel like I meant it?” You grin, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I don��t know… I might have to check again.” You see a smile creep back onto his face and you pull him in again.

He kisses you like a man starved, eagerly throwing himself into you. He nips at your lips, pulling playfully as he slides on top of you, your body sliding down into the bed in turn. You can’t tell if his hands are attached to his body or not as you feel them wandering your skin, pushing up under the hem of your shirt and grabbing onto your waist. You whine into his mouth and he pulls away quickly.

“Did I- sorry is this too fast we can-“ You shut him up by pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“I want more.” You say against his lips and he nods so furiously you think his head might fall off.

His lips trail down, kissing where your jaw and throat meet. As he does so you feel a deft hand undo the fastenings on your pants and sliding into them, plunging past the hem of your underwear and to your folds. Your hips buck up as his fingers ghost over you and you hear him chuckle.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You lightly hit his back, unable to stop smiling.

“I’m not, I’m not.” He claims, but you know otherwise. It’s hard to be mad at him though when his fingers pry open your folds and he sucks in a breath when he finally dips in. “Fuck you’re wet.”

“All for-“ You’re cut off by your own moan as two fingers press into you. “All for you.”

His motions still for a second before he’s biting into your neck as his fingers sink all the way into you. “Can’t just say that stuff. Fuck you don’t know what you do to me.”

You feel him grind up against your leg and that sends a thrill through you and you push further. “Missed you so much- thought about you every day-“

“My lovely star-“ He breathes into your skin, fingers pumping in and out of you.

“That- I missed that. Missed you calling me yours.” You admit through moans as his fingers stretched you out.

All of a sudden his fingers are pulling out and you whine as he sits up. In a flash hands are tugging your shirt up and off your body while he shimmies down your bed. Once your shirt is discarded he can pull down your pants, hands smoothing over your thighs. He takes a few moments to just look at you and your face heats up.

“See you still need to learn how to take a compliment.” He jokes as he lays back down, pushing apart your thighs so he can settle between them.

“This is not the same.” You try and argue, your hand drifting to his bright blue hair as he kisses up the inside of your thighs.

“Whatever you say.” You want to argue further but all coherent thoughts leave your brain when you feel his breath on your folds.

You feel his fingers spread you apart before he dives in, tongue eagerly lapping up your slick. Your hand fists in his hair as he pushes his tongue into you, the thick muscle a welcome sensation. When his tongue leaves you, you whine but it quickly dissolves into a moan as he wraps his lips around your clit.

“Fuck- Buggy- Just like that!” You buck your hips up into his mouth and you feel his fingers slip back into you.

He listens, repeating the motion and adding a third finger inside you. His other hand comes around to the back of your leg, hiking it up over his shoulder so he can have better access. His tongue swirls between your clit and thrusting in with his fingers. As your orgasm builds up you pull tighter at his hair in warning and you feel him groan into your folds. The vibration against your clit edges you ever closer so you pull again, not missing the way his hips jerk up against the bed as you do.

He sucks on your clit as his fingers curl inside you and the dam breaks, orgasm washing over you. Buggy slowly pulls his fingers out of you but you still feel his tongue on you, lapping up your slick as you come down.

You gently pull on his hair, urging him to come closer to you. He gets the message, sliding up your body until he’s face to face with you, his lips and chin glistening with your juices.

“Can I repay the favor?” You ask, your hands sliding down his body until he shakes his head.

“Baby- if I even see you on your knees in front of me I’m going to blow my load before I can get inside you.” His confession makes your skin run hot as you surge up to him, kissing him deeply.

“Then get inside me.” You say when you finally pull away, your own taste lingering in your mouth.

“Oh, who’s the captain now?” He grins as he slides off the bed to quickly take off his vest and pants.

You can’t help but stare at his cock, long and curved and you need it inside you now. He sees you staring at it’s the ego boost he needs as he crawls back in bed, slotting his hips between your thighs. His hand guides his tip to rub against your clit and you whine impatiently. He chuckles but lines himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing in.

“You’re so- warm- tight- fuck-“ Buggy thrusts into you despite himself, every inch of him inside you all at once and you practically scream his name.

“Can’t help myself baby you feel-“ His body covers yours as he mouths at your collarbone and throat and whatever skin he can find. “So much better than I thought.”

“You thought about me?” You manage out, breathless.

“Every damn day and night I-“ His thrusts are erratic but you can’t bring yourself to care when he’s still making you feel so good. “Sometimes, after you left our meetings I’d- I’d touch myself the second you left I couldn’t stop imagining you on my desk I- fuck-“

Knowing he thought about you like that did things to you and you drag your nails down his back and hook your legs around his waist, unable to verbalize through your moans. You can tell he’s close already, the throb of his cock and the way his filthy words are getting increasingly slurred. You’re close too, and you reach up and grab Buggy’s hand, urging it down to your sensitive bud. He takes the direction well, his thumb rubbing right circles that make you see stars.

“Where- I’m so close-“ He chokes out and as he goes to pull out you clench your legs tighter, trapping him inside you.

“Fill me up, please Buggy.” You whine and that’s it for him.

You feel hot ropes of cum fill you up as he groans into your neck. He manages to still work your clit so it’s only a few moments after him that you’re orgasming again, milking every drop of cum out of him. Breathless, he collapses on top of you, softening cock still in you.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him tight as though letting him go means he’d drift away from you again. He nuzzled into your neck and must sense that somethings up.

“‘m not gonna be that stupid again.” He says, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Not gonna let you go.”

“I’m your chronicler again?” You ask, voice weak with emotions.

“Until the end of time.” He promises, and you trust him completely.

[dfortrafalgar]

HII

for requests, can you do law taking care of sick reader, hurt/comfort kind of thing that ends with fluff????

THAT'S IT AND DON'T FORGET TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF!!

Hi anon, thank you so much for your request!!!! a few months ago, i actually started this fic when i was ill with a pretty bad sinus infection, but then i just never finished what i wrote, so your request was actually the perfect thing to get me to finally finish that and share it with the world! i hope you enjoy it, thought it might not be as hurt/comfort as expected, so i hope that's alright <3

Doting

Law x Fem Reader

A nasty illness inflicting you brings out the warmth in Law.

Warnings: fairly detailed descriptions of gross sinus infection symptoms (cus i initially wrote this while actively dealing with one so its kinda visceral lol)

A light sleet gently tapped against the glass porthole as you weakly rolled your body over under the warm blankets that firmly surrounded you.  The sound was enough to quickly lull you back into the comfort of slumber, but your mind was already starting to run.  There would be no more falling asleep now.  A cold spot lay beside you, no surprise that Law got up before you did.  As you slowly entered the conscious world, your body was wracked with a cold shiver, a sensation deep within your marrow that seemed to bounce off of every cell.  You became acutely aware of a hard stone in the back of your throat that made swallowing a heavy burden.  Inhaling through your nose was met with nothing but a clogged nasal cavity, the crackling of mucus that wouldn’t move bouncing around your weary skull.  You attempted to push yourself up on your hands, but your muscles trembled feebly and you collapsed back down into the plush mattress with a tired groan.

No doubt about it, you were sick.

You angled your head to look toward the small wooden bedside table that Law used for his analogue alarm clock.  Your blinking eyes, slowly adjusting to the dreary gray light of the cold, snowy day outside, focused on a small piece of notebook paper placed on the table, under a paper cup of water and two pills.  You reached an arm over, carefully pushing the cup and the pills out of the way so you could grab the paper.  You shifted slightly on your side for a better reading view, cringing uncomfortably as you felt the pressure in your sinuses move around with every adjustment.

Good morning, love. You were breathing strange when I woke up so I did a scan on you- you have an acute sinus infection.  I left you a pain killer and a vitamin C capsule, please take them as soon as you wake up.  We docked at an island for a supply run, so I will be back around noon to take care of you.  If you need anything, Bepo stayed behind on the ship.  I love you. – Law

Your illness had no bearing on the way your heart fluttered with boundless affection for your boyfriend.  His note was analytical, but you couldn’t help but appreciate his professional physician side as well as his tender, intimate personality you saw behind closed doors.  It was just like him to notice something as minimal as your breathing while you slept, it gave you a sense of security you didn’t think you needed, but were beyond happy you had.

You once again attempted to push yourself up on your arms, just enough to reach over for the two pills, throwing them into your mouth and swallowing a gulp of the room-temperature water from the paper cup.  Your throat convulsed from the pain of swallowing, and you needed to force your esophagus to move the pills where they needed to go, but once they were down you laid your head back onto your pillow, closing your eyes tightly as the pressure within your sinuses began to ebb its way into your attention with your waking body.  You had felt fine when you went to sleep the night before, but now you were wracked with aches, chills, and pain in your face.  Just your luck, truly.

At least it was a cold, snowy day.  You didn’t feel like you would be missing out on anything too important.

You slowly shuffled upwards on the bed, now sitting up against the metal bedframe and holding the bed sheets against your frigid shoulders.  You had a tendency to sleep in tank tops and shorts due to the heavy insulation the metal walls of the Polar Tang provided, but that made very little difference in your feverish state.  Even the thought of the blankets revealing any centimeter of bare skin made your teeth chatter, but you knew you had to get up.  You felt gross, the back of your mouth coated with a foul-tasting funk from your blocked head, and you craved nothing more than the refreshing taste of the mint toothpaste you shared with Law.

Though, if you were ill, it might be best to open a different bottle… and use a different toothbrush.

You gazed around the small bedroom that you shared with Law, a comparatively tiny room aboard the submarine, composed of very little except for his bed, a tiny desk (much smaller than the one in his medical ward), a small bookshelf, and a wardrobe.  Law’s outlandish, feathery coats took up a lot of room, but they were comfortable and outrageously warm.  Your eyes formed the most efficient path you could take to don yourself in warmer attire as quickly as possible.  Taking a deep inhale through your mouth, which scratched your sore throat enough to make you suppress a heavy cough, you pushed the blankets off of you, swung your bare feet over the side of the bed, and plopped across the steel-panel floor towards the wardrobe.

The soles of your feet sent shivers up your entire body as you pulled out a ratty pair of sweatpants, one of Law’s oversized sweatshirts, and one of his feather coats.  You yanked on the clothing as quickly as your shaking limbs would allow before finally offering your feet relief from the cold floor by sliding them into a pair of fur-lined slippers.  Your trembling fingers pulled the coat tighter around your body as the relentless, feverish chills endlessly consumed your entire body.  You weakly pushed open the heavy metal door into one of the narrow labyrinthian halls of the Polar Tang before following a familiar route towards the galley.

Rounding a corner, you spotted Hakugan on the floor in front of an open electrical panel, a small box of tools by his side.  His mask was pushed upward, revealing his face so he could better focus on his work, but when he heard you enter the vicinity he made quick work of pulling the white plastic back over his face.  He fully turned his head to look at you through the black slots of his mask as you meekly approached.

“Good morning, yeesh you look terrible,” he muttered.

“‘Morning… I feel terrible.”  Your voice left your larynx with an airy, hoarse crackle that left a stinging sensation in its wake.  “Law said I have a sinus infection.”

Hakugan hummed, a sound slightly muffled by the barrier in front of his face, and turned his head forward to continue whatever he was previously occupied with on the floor.  “We have some apple juice in the fridge, that’ll fix you up in no time!”

You chuckled at the statement, which wasn’t much of a laugh and was more of a congested, donkey-like groan.  “Thanks, Hakun, I appreciate it.”  Your friendly nickname for your crewmate made the man smile, judging only by the slight way his jaw moved under his mask.  You continued down the hallway towards the galley, pushing open the door to the sight of Uni and Bepo swabbing the floors, counters, dining table, and every other surface with regular hand contact.

Uni looked up towards you from his diligent hand-washing of the surface of the dining table before groaning.  “Now we’re gonna have to wash everything again ‘cuz you’re sick!”

You frowned.  “You want me to starve?”

Bepo quickly stepped between you two, putting his thick paw on your shoulder and ushering you towards the fridge.  “Feed a cold, starve a fever,” he quoted.  “That’s what my mama used to say when I’d get sick.”

“I guess I should starve then,” you responded bluntly, feeling the hairs of your arms rise with goosebumps as another chill waved through you.

“Nonsense, you need strength to get better!” Bepo had immediately assumed his comforting, caring demeanor and pulled over a folding chair for you to sit on.  “Do you want anything for breakfast?  I can make you some eggs and toast, or some oatmeal, or some fresh fruit!”

You smiled warmly towards the bear, finding solace in his uplifting personality.  “Some fruit sounds nice.”

“You stay right there, I’ll make you a bowl.”  The mink turned his back to you and began rummaging around for a cutting board and a knife to prepare you a small bowl of fruit to take back to your room.  

Uni had left his washcloth on the table and paced over to where you sat, keeping his distance but still leaning forward to talk.  “How are you feeling?”

You flashed a smile in his direction, followed by a hearty and mucusy sniff.  “Sick.”

The much taller man chuckled beneath the cloth that covered his mouth.  “Yeah, no surprise there.”

“What does Law normally do when one of you gets sick?”

Uni’s long fingers drummed against the countertop.  “He lets us suffer, really.  If he used his devil fruit to keep everyone healthy all the time, then our immune systems wouldn’t develop.  At least, that’s what he tells us.”

You gazed at the floor.  “I guess that makes sense.”

“He’s got plenty of remedies to make the symptoms easier, though.  Did he give you one of those vitamin C pills?”

You nodded.  “He left one on the nightstand when I woke up.”

Uni also nodded affirmatively.  “Those things work like magic, I’m convinced.”

Behind your conversation, Bepo was laser-focused on creating the healthiest fruit salad for your consumption, rife with healthy vitamins to kickstart your immune system faster than a pill could do.  He turned in your direction with a bowl in his hands, a shiny metal fork sticking out of it for you to use.  “Ta-da~!” he cheered.

You carefully took the bowl into your shaking hands.  “Thank you, Bepo!”

“Of course, anything for you!”  You could almost see prideful sparkles floating around the mink’s head.  “There’s tangerines, some strawberries, blueberries, some diced watermelon, grapes, and some chopped peaches.  The tangerines are from the Straw Hats actually, they’re super delicious!”

Holding the bowl firmly in your grasp, you stood from your chair and carefully pulled Law’s coat higher on your shoulders.  “I’m already feeling better, thank you guys.”

The two crewmates waved you off as you began your fatigued trek back to the captain’s cabin.  You passed by Hakugan once again, who uttered a tired-sounding, “Get better soon,” in your direction, which you happily thanked him for.

Twisting the hatch of the cabin door, you heaved the barrier open and stepped inside, closing it behind you.  You placed the bowl of fruit onto the small desk to free your hands, allowing you to shrug off the feathered jacket and drape it carefully off the wooden desk chair.  You faced the small bookshelf, eyes picking between Law’s assortment of extra medical texts, personal journals, and comic books, before finally pulling out a novel you had started some months prior.  Book in hand, you grabbed your bowl of fruit, kicked off your slippers, and scampered back into bed, pulling the covers up to your shoulders and once again enveloping your shivering form in a barrier of serene warmth.  Your shaky hand grabbed the handle of the metal fork, stabbing into a piece of watermelon and placing the fruit into your sore mouth.  You flipped through the book, tired eyes barely absorbing any of the words as you focused solely on chewing each bite of fruit you took.  You very quickly began to nod off yet again, finally subdued by the subtle hum of the submarine’s engines, the tapping weather outside, and the words of your novel.

You placed the bowl of fruit, now half eaten, on the bed stand and let your book fall to the ground as you rolled over onto your side and let yourself fall back into the clutches of slumber, at least until your beloved returned aboard.

—

A harsh, wet sneeze jostled you violently from your slumber.  You sat up with a jolt, one hand covering your face to contain your snot, which made you cringe at the sensation.  You glanced over toward the clock on the nightstand which read 11:30 AM.  You groaned.  How long had you been out?  It couldn’t have been longer than an hour and a half at the most.  You swung your legs over the side of the bed and shuffled into your slippers once again, making your way to the submarine’s bathroom.  You felt unbelievably gross, between the hand on your face holding your dripping mucus in your nose, your feverish cold sweats, and your overall malaise.  You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this sick.

You knocked on the door to the bathroom, per routine.  There was only one shower stall and bathtub, so every Heart Pirate kept to a strict bathing routine.  To have you slip in for a quick, steamy shower at this hour was outside of that norm, but with many of the crew gone on the supply run, you didn’t think you’d run into any issues.  You entered the bathroom, locking the door behind you and making your way towards the metal sink bowl, running warm water and washing off your hand.  You grabbed a paper towel which you used to wipe your face (and subsequently blew your nose once again) before you began to disrobe from your smelly, sweaty clothes.  The steam from the shower would hopefully loosen the compacted mucus in your sinuses, so you turned on the shower faucet and stuck your hand under the tap to make sure it was warming up to your liking.  You grabbed a towel from the nearby bathroom linen closet, placing it on the sink so you could grab it easily when you were done.

The hot water immediately soothed your cold sweats, and the steam entering your lungs felt euphoric compared to your congestion.  You stood under the stream of water letting the drops run down your body, taking in as much of the warmth as you could.  You idly reached for the bottle of body wash that was kept on the edge of the tub, squeezing some of the soap into your hand and washing the parts of your body that felt the worst.

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you stepped into the bath, but you started to feel strange under the flow of hot water and clouds of steam surrounding your head.  Your eyes began to blur, your vision swaying back and forth in repetitive motions.  Your fingertips felt tingly and numb, and a nauseous sensation filled your abdomen and reverberated into the back of your throat where it left a cold, sour taste.  Without thinking, and without turning the water off, you sat down under the running faucet and leaned your head on the side of the bath, closing your eyes.

—

A cold towel was placed against the back of your neck, once again making you jolt upward.  What time was it?  What day was it?  Why were you naked in the bathtub?  Did you turn the water off?

“Hey, look at me.”

Your eyes darted from the shower tap to the porcelain tub wall to the hand that waved three fingers in front of your face and gestured for your attention.  You lazily gazed forward, your weary expression meeting steely golden eyes that were narrowed with profound concern.  His other hand was pressed against the back of your neck, where a cold washcloth was pressed against your damp skin.

“You had a hot flash.”

“Huh?”

Law shook his head, but not out of disappointment.  Rather, he was incredibly worried.  With pursed lips, he carefully helped you to your feet and out of the tub.  Once your feet met the cold metal floor, you sank to your knees with a weary groan.  Law grabbed the towel you had placed on the sink and threw it around your shoulders, beginning to dry you off as best he could without disturbing you too much.  You hung your head limply, letting your boyfriend work the water off of you without protest.  The cold compress on your neck began to warm with your body heat, and you felt it slide down a tad toward your shoulder blades before falling to the floor with a wet plop.

“Look at me,” Law said once more, voice firm and asserting, yet calm.  Your eyes flicked up toward him.  “I’m going to pick you up, alright?”

You simply nodded your head, barely a thought to make any move otherwise.  Law’s hands wrapped the towel around your body under your arms, carefully holding it in place in the front by your breasts.  His arms snaked under yours, hoisting you up like a heavy toddler, before he awkwardly bent down and placed his forearm under your knees, hauling you off your feet and against his chest.  Your head fell into his pectoral, taking as much of a deep, snotty inhale as you could, feeling your eyes close at the comforting sensation of his shirt against your face.  A faint ‘Shambles’ was heard, along with the weak magnetic sensation that you felt every time you were teleported with Law’s ability, and you were suddenly met with the comfort of your bed for what felt like the millionth time that morning.

Your towel slipped slightly, and Law quickly put it back into place before walking to the wardrobe and picking out new, clean clothes for you to wear.  He worked quickly, dressing you, wrapping your hair, wiping your face, and applying another cold compress onto the back of your neck while helping you sit upright.

The deepest part of your nasal cavity tickled uncomfortably.  You let out a gargantuan sneeze while Law’s back was turned, making him jump and turn back toward you.

A large blob of snot dangled from your nose.  You made zero attempt to do anything about it this time.  One might compare your current state to that of a sad, wet dog.

“You’re more sick now than you were this morning.”  Law used a tissue to wipe your face.  If you had any piece of mind, you would be humiliated at your juvenile state.  “I’m sorry I was away for so long.”

You were slowly coming to your senses after your hot flash in the shower, just in time for your boyfriend to ease an oral thermometer under your tongue.  He held your mouth closed with his fingers, muttering a quiet, “Hold it there,” then retreated across the bedroom to dispose of the tissue in his hands.  He squeezed a generous helping of sanitizing soap onto his hands, rubbing it as far up as his forearms.  He turned back to you right when the thermometer came back with its final reading.  Gently pulling the device from your mouth, he held it to his eyes which grimaced at the sight.

“What’s it say?” you asked, feebly.

“102.2.  You’re definitely fighting off a bacterial infection.  I’m assuming bacterial rhinosinusitis, caused by Streptococcus pneumoniae, judging by the color of your mucus.”

You hung your head.  “That’s so fucking gross, Law.”

He chuckled, placing the thermometer on a paper towel on the desk to be cleaned later.  He sat at the edge of the bed, reaching a hand over to gently rub the top of your head.  “I’m sorry, it’s the doctor in me coming out.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crawled onto your face.  “It’s okay.  I just don’t like sneezing out hurricanes worth of boogers.”

“I don’t blame you, it’s not fun.”  His hand trailed from the crest of your head down toward your cheek, gently stroking beneath your eye with his tattooed thumb.

“Is there anything at all you can do?  Uni told me you just make everyone suffer to build their immune systems.”  Your voice was groggy, but you were pretty much completely lucid once again.  Your eyes darted toward the nightstand.  Your bowl of fruit was gone, replaced with two glasses, one with water and one with apple juice.  Alongside the drinks were three bottles of medication and your book which you had neglected after falling asleep earlier.

Law hummed under his breath.  “Well, I do prefer that everyone work through illness on their own with the help of standard medication, yes.  It’s how I make sure everyones’ immune systems are working as they should.  Any more sick than an average fever, then I intervene.”

You attempted to inhale through your nose, pulling up snot deeper into your sinuses and exhaling a congested breath.  “Can you intervene with me?”  You tried your best to give your man the puppy eyes you knew he couldn’t refuse.  This time, however, he stifled a chuckle at your expression.  Puffy, scorching hot cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and a nose rubbed raw from constant sniffing.  Your lips were beginning to become chapped with all the mouth breathing you had to do.

Law turned away from you, bringing a hand to his mouth with a badly covered snort.

“Lawwww,” you whined.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry my love,” he turned back toward you, a mischievous smile on his face, though his eyebrows were angled with sympathy.  “I really do wish there was something I could do to alleviate your symptoms quicker, but I’d rather not get invasive.  Simple remedies can make you more comfortable, but the antibiotics will be doing most of the work.”

You hunched your shoulders and leaned back against your pillows, sniffling once more with a pout on your lips.  “I guess I understand…”

Law replied to your weary tone by pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.  “Because you’re not contagious, however, I can spend the rest of the day with you… if you want.”

Your eyes, albeit puffy, lit up like fireworks at his suggestion.  “Really?  You can?  You don’t have, like, any work to do or anything?”

“Well, I do…” he muttered, scratching his cheek with one of his fingers.  “But I’ve come to learn recently that I can put off working when someone who I care about needs me.”

You could hardly respond to his fond words, instead choosing to drop your heavy, congested head onto his shoulder as he moved over the mattress and pulled you into his chest.

“Just tell me to move if you get too hot or uncomfortable,” your beloved whispered, stroking the back of your head with his inked hand.

A soft, weary hum of acknowledgement was the only sound you could muster as the feeling of his warmth circling your cold, feverish body brought you the first sense of true serenity you had experienced since first waking up.  While you couldn’t smell him due to your blocked sinuses, his lingering presence alone was enough to lull you into yet another much-needed slumber.

—

Law exceeded the definition of ‘pampering’ when it came to caring for your ill state.  When it was revealed to you that he very rarely treated the rest of the crew with the same level of domestic, loving care, you tossed your lover a pointed, disapproving gaze.  He simply did what he had to do as a doctor and a captain, but you were special to him, far more than just a regular crew mate.  (If that wasn’t obvious already, with the way his kisses always seemed to burn your skin and his hands knew every part of your body.)

But in the days following your first onset of symptoms, Law hadn’t left your side, even after the Polar Tang submerged yet again deep below the dark blue ocean, cruising to its next destination.  Law moved some of his work materials from the medical room to the floor and small desk of your bedroom, half of his brain focused on his studies while the other half kept a close watch on your slumbering form in the bed next to him.  The antibiotics were quick to shut down the illness, and although they did come with a few less-than-pleasant side effects, you were thankful for how rapidly the regimen of pills slowly loosened the mucus in your nose, the pounding in your head, and the tightness in your chest and throat.

Perhaps he might have been a bit too attentive.  Shachi and Penguin tossed lighthearted jeers in their friend’s direction as he followed you into the shower for the third day in a row, keen on making sure you didn’t faint under a stream of too-hot water again.  While you found it humorous that he wouldn’t leave your side, you were also beyond thankful to have someone so focused and dedicated to ensuring your wellbeing.  Law was truly one of a kind.

And when your first 24 hours without symptoms passed and you were deemed officially in the clear after a long week of recovery, you were rewarded with a long-overdue kiss on the lips from your doting man.

You, as well as the entire crew, were given strict instructions to incorporate Vitamin C capsules in your daily food intake to prevent more severe infections from cropping up, but with the way you were taken care of by your bespeckled boyfriend, a small part of you wouldn’t mind getting sick again.

[bamsara]

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

A Pirates Life For Me

Pairings: father Killian Jones x child/teen!reader

Imagine: what it would be like to be Killian Jones child

Warnings: none really, mostly fluff, and Killian Jones being the best father ever, I guess there’s some spoilers for those who haven’t watched all seasons I guess, mention of when he died, NOT proofread yet

A/N back to writing ya’ll (hopefully), thought I’d start it of easy with some headcanons, so a few other will come out too but this is the first because recently I’ve been obsessing over Killian again along with Obi-Wan Kenobi and Hunter (from tbb)

Side note half of this got deleted and couldn’t really remember what I wrote so it’s definitely not as good as the first draft

First things first you were raised on the Jolly Roger, you would most probably grow up as a pirate, and when old enough you’d help him fighting against the other pirates that would attack you at times

I’m sorry but you’re gonna have to deal with wearing dark colored clothes, he doesn’t do light color therefore neither do you at least until you’re old enough to decide for yourself what clothes you want

You’d beg Killian to buy you the biggest hat ever as you read somewhere that pirates has hats, he never bought you that hat… he did steal a tiny hat that fit you perfectly though…

He was scared to death that he would be like his own father, but don’t worry he’s both like that he’s the best and he’d never leave you like that

Your initials are written beside the wheel (you know where he wrote with his hook for Bae/Neal)

Things you carved into the ship as a kid can still be seen in the most random places

He childproofed the ship, put child locks on nearly every cabinet not knowing if it was child appropriate things in them as the crew would put their things in random places, he did not find the thought of you finding a knife, sword, or gun and accidentally hurt yourself very comforting

Adopted child, biological child, doesn’t matter he loves you the same.

Depending on when you were born you might of watched The Dark One rip the heart out of your father’s lover

One of many traumatic events

Killian values you more than anything else, if he had to choose between revenge or you, he’d always choose you, he’d do anything for you even if it meant him dying

He still knows how to say no to things though

He made a mental list in his head on things he would teach you

1. How to sail

2. How to navigate with stars

3. Sword fighting

4. How to survive on Neverland (just in case Pan decided to kidnap you or something to mess with him)

5. How to escape from Neverland

6. What plants are poisonous or not

7. Do not make deals with the dark one

And then the list goes on and on, he would want to teach you everything he knows about everything really, he just doesn’t want you to make the same mistakes he did, or to end up being a villain as he wants you to get your happy ending

Somewhere along the road you got dragged into wanting to help your father get revenge, nearly succeeded in multiple occasions, but as it turns out villains don’t really get their revenge

You once made the crew find a hook and clothes similar to Killian’s and later on that day you’d run up to Killian, hand clutching a hook and act as if you were the captain of the ship, imitating your father (with a really bad “adult” voice). He would let out a wide smile, eyes twinkling and a soft gaze as he looked down at you trying to reach the wheel. He’d eventually pick you up and let you steer the destination as he helped you turn the wheel the other way than he had set the course too. This was also the first time he taught you how to sail. Or somewhat, it wasn’t like you took much of the information in as you soon got bored and went to watch over the railing at the crashing waves.

Btw I’m tired of fics where Captain Hooks child likes Peter Pan, why because a parents ideals usually sets with the child, meaning you’d probably hate Peter Pan and Rumplestiltskin as much as your father does

He would tell you stories of his older brother and how he was a hero and he wished you’d met him, you would eventually in hell though later as you went to rescue your father so that’s fine, turns out he wasn’t the hero your father made him out to be, but that’s fine you only need one hero and that’s your dad

He would also tell you stories of his adventures, it made for quite the long entertaining tales as he tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead before continuing his story which he altered to be a bit more child friendly and a bit more dramatic

He lets you have some of his clothes when he’s going away for a long time because he knows you’ll miss him

He lets you wear his jackets/coats, you freezing he’s already put his jacket/coat over you, even if they’re too big for you , he loves how adorable you look in it as he’s reminded that you’re still just a child and he doesn’t want you to grow up

He’d try to teach you how to paint, might succeed might not still he loves the bonding time he’s good at painting in any universe you can’t tell me otherwise

He hates seeing you hurt

If you get hurt on a raid he’d made sure whoever hurt you would suffer, you want him kiss the injury better, he’d do so in a heartbeat even if it meant his reputation would falter slightly

He starts dating someone else (Emma) he’d make sure that person treated you right, if not he’d dump said person

If he founds out you like someone he wouldn’t be overprotective, he’d still be protective but he’d mostly be supportive. He’d tease you about it until it became annoying, he’d encourage you and give you advice (even if most of his advice failed)and if it failed he’d be there to comfort you through it all

You’d blame Emma for turning Killian into a dark one and you’d blame Emma for Killian’s death

When you rescued Killian from hell he promised you he’d never die again if not of old age and that he’d never take of his good luck ring ever again as you thought he jinxed it by giving it to Emma

You were glad for his sake when he married Emma just because you saw your father happy with someone else again and not just grieving and seeking revenge for his ex lover

He hugs surprisingly great, he’s like your human sized pirate teddy bear

He misses the times when you would come into his room late at night after a nightmare and crawl under the covers and cuddle close to him, not because you had a nightmare but because he liked that you knew you would always be safe with him

He would hate that you’d have nightmares after his death and you no matter what age you are in would sometimes go into his room to make sure he was still alive and maybe even sleep beside him, he’d wake up to you sprawled out over the whole bed clutching his side tightly as if you were afraid he’d disappear

Will make sure you get your happy ending

He’s just father material it’s as simple as that (just look at Nook, love Nook though but original Hook is the best)

[ihavethedreamies]

Heat | Wonwoo

Jeon Wonwoo - Seventeen

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~8.7k

Pairing: Wonwoo x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Acquaintances-to-Lovers, This One Actually Has Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Minor Background Character Gets Shot (Wow! Plot), Pet Names (Pretty, Pretty Girl, Princess, etc.), Daddy Kink (oops), Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Wall Sex, Marking/Biting, Unprotected Sex (Use a condom!)

Author's Note: This one has way more actual story than Hoshi's and Woozi's. Wonwoo tends to need time to warm up to people, so I didn't feel like I should do a quick one-night stand deal with him. So, I wrote in some story so he and the reader weren't total strangers.

-> Series Hub <-

-> Hoshi's <-

-> Woozi's <-

-> S.Coup's <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"You have GOT to be kidding me…" You grumbled, huffing a few harsh breaths, and trying again. There was something stuck under the sand, and you really wanted to see if it was worth anything. However, every time you got close to brushing enough sand from the surface to see the logo, a gust of wind would cover it back up again. Adjusting your head covering over your mouth again so you got no sand in your mouth, you also brushed off your goggles of the fine particles sticking to it. You were starting to work up a sweat, the blowing dust and sand mixed with the perspiration and was coating you in a horribly scratchy paste. Whatever was under the sand was big, and that was what you were looking for. However, you really needed to determine the make and model of the crashed ship to determine if it was worth reporting for salvage.

"Finally!" You groaned, getting the metal brushed clean. You quickly snapped a photo with your holo-tracker, the blue paint still relatively solid, enough to identify. The device spun, trying to connect to the extranet and you clicked your tongue as it took for seemingly forever.

"What?!" You swore multiple times when the device flashed, 'no results found'. Maybe you could show it to someone at the Assembly office that would know something. You already had a few pictures and coordinates of a few smaller wrecks you could report, but they probably wouldn't grant very many credits. This thing was huge though, so at least the scrap metal would be worth something. Another blast of wind nearly knocked you over as you stood back up, trying to climb out of the small crater to get back to your rover. The crappy thing about wrecks on Sierra-Vector-Tango, since the entire planet was a desert, is that they were quickly covered by sand; even if they created massive craters when they fell to the surface. However, that meant more money for finding salvage than some other planets. Bad thing? Sand worms. Their saliva got into the particles and could make it acidic, which made digging through the sand more dangerous. This, once again, caused the number of credits to be higher.

"Let’s go back for now." You jerked back with your whole body weight as you pulled the handle for the door of your rover. It finally opened and you huffed, throwing the end of your head scarf aggressively to wrap it around your neck better. Crawling up and into your rover, you rested back in the seat, trying to catch your breath.  Pressing the button to start the vehicle it roared to life and the air conditioning flared to life and you just sat in the cooling air for a few minutes.

"Water!" You gasped dramatically, grabbing your canteen from the passenger seat, and drinking so aggressively the liquid spilled out of your mouth some.

"For fuck's sake…" You groaned hard, the water mixing with the layer of sand on your skin, thickening it.

"I need a real shower, with water." Shifting the gear of the rover, you started to drive back to the main road so you could start heading to the nearest Assembly office. It would be about an hour to Drent, and a little under two for Jaron, but you really didn't like going to Drent. Not only did it have the name of some dude-bro fuck boy, but it was also full of them too. Drent had one of the biggest…adult establishments in that quadrant. Not only did they have sexy blue alien ladies dancing on tables, but it also allowed you to sleep with them. Last time you went you nearly got mugged, and the guy just wanted your underwear. No thank you. Jaron was farther away, but a much nicer place and had a very old-style diner reminiscent of Terra from the 1950s. It was cool to go somewhere that was reminiscent of a time over two-hundred years in the past. Plus, they had a hotel with real water showers instead of the air-blasting kind that was more common. It would be more expensive, but worth it.

"This time I wanna rock with you~" You sang along to the song playing over the speakers, drumming your hands on the steering wheel of your rover as you got back to the main road. Turning right to go north toward Jaron, you set the auto-pilot on and plugged in the town, sitting back to watch the view as your rover drove itself. When you could start to see the sign for the town, you shut the auto-drive off and took control again. Large vehicles like yours weren't allowed in the city proper, so when you reached the entry checkpoint, you pulled off to the side and got out. The sun was setting, nearly below the horizon, stars starting to twinkle in the night sky. Getting out of the rover, you slammed the door as hard as you could to get it to shut and went around to the back. Grabbing your big pack and smaller bag, you also had a make-shift safe that you kept smaller salvage pieces in. You let it fall to the sandy ground with a thud and jumped back out. Keying in the code on the side, the rover beeped as it locked, and you headed to the entry booth.

"How old is your rover?" The kid at the booth was at the most eighteen, and his condescending tone was completely unnecessary.

"Doesn't matter." You tried not to steer, slapping your credit chit on the counter and he slotted it into the console. He really had no room to talk, his setup was just as old if not more so than you rover. Sliding the chit back out, he grabbed a small holo-disc and let the machine stamp it with the time and date.

"Thank you." You emphasized with fake kindness, and he rolled his eyes as he let you into the town. You let the parking disc fall into your bag along with your credit chit and started to head down the road. Your 'safe' was basically a suitcase that you made more secure and added a few locks to, so you could roll it behind you. The wheels thunked over the creases of the pavement and you wondered why the town was so dead. At that time, most people would be milling about after supper and going to bars and such. As you passed a store, you saw a sign blinking on the glass advertising some kind of political rally, must be where everyone was at. At least the hotel was still being manned, though you weren't sure the old man behind the counter was even still alive.

"Hello, dearie." He smiled up at you, wrinkles so prominent his eyes nearly disappeared.

"Hello, sir. Can I get a single room for…" You thought, sucking air through the side of your mouth in thought, "how much is four nights?"

"At 250 credits a night, that would be about a thousand…If you stay one more night, I will keep it that price?"

"Sweet! Thanks!" You smiled back, digging through your bag to look for the chit once again. It was a bit pricier than you normally liked, but it was worth it to get a shower with water.

"A single bed, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"I think we only have two-bed rooms…this one is two singles, does that work?"

"Sure!"

"Water shower?"

"Please~" You groaned, and he chuckled.

"It is quite slow today for the rally, so I do not think any restaurants are delivering…" The old man worked faster than you thought he would and when he slid the chit back to you, he included the room key. It looked like a glass playing card and had the room 24H-13 on it.

"It will be the second floor, take a right to the fourth hall, then its room thirteen." The old man smiled, and you thanked him, heading for the elevator, the wheels whirling on the tile floor. Once you got to the room and inside, you put everything in the room hastily before dashing into the bathroom. After relieving yourself, you shed the extremely sandy clothes and you noticed what looked like an old-style clothes dryer in the corner. It only had two settings, one of which was covered with a piece of tape and the handwritten words, ‘FOR SAND,' on it.

"Perfect." You shrugged and shoved all of your clothes in the drum, shutting the door, and letting it spin and get rid of the dust and grit.

"Oh~" You hummed in delight when you saw the water heating panel on the wall. You plugged in the best temperature and the water immediately came out perfect. Standing under the spray, you stood for nearly ten minutes just letting the water flow over your tired body. Glancing up at the shower head, you clicked your tongue in annoyance, it was fixed on the wall without a hose…

"Need to find a guy…" you grumbled and then proceeded to actually wash up. The soaps and cleansers all smelled of Terra fruits and you wondered what they might taste like. Getting out of the shower nearly an hour later, you wrapped a towel around yourself and your hair, heading back to the main room of the hotel. Flopping onto the bed, your stomach rumbled loudly, and you sighed dramatically. No delivery…The only place that was probably open was the diner and luckily it was right next door to the Assembly office in the strip mall. It was always open since the employees of the Assembly would eat there most of the time, but they never delivered anyway. When your skin finally no longer felt wet or sticky, you put on your set of spare clothes and grabbed your smaller bag.

"Sandy." you mumbled, going back to the bathroom, taking your now sand-free clothes out. Taking everything out of your bag and setting it on top of the machine, you put your bag in to get the sand off and while you waited, put your boots back on. As it continued, you brushed your hair out and braided it again. Looking at your face, you had a slight tan line from your goggles, but it was nearly unnoticeable thanks to your head scarf covering most of the rest of your face. The machine dinged and you retrieved the satchel, putting everything back and making sure you had your chit and keycard, you left the hotel room to go get supper. Waving to the old man at the desk, you dashed out to the street and jogged down the sidewalk. The rally was still going, you could hear the shouting and cheers in the distance. Must have been a more local election or campaign because you didn't recognize the politician on the flyer. Most of the store fronts were closed, even as you turned the corner to get to the main street. In the distance, you saw the light pouring out of the windows of the Assembly office and the diner, shining like a beacon among the darkened stores surrounding it. Like a good child, you looked both ways before you crossed the road, despite there not being anything or anyone nearby. The doors slid open when you approached the office and the guy behind the counter looked up lazily from where he was counting something at the desk.

"Can I help you?" He sounded very tired. You dug in your bag once again and pulled out your credit chit as well as your ID so he could see you were a legit scavenger, but also a freelancer. Freelancers actually tended to get more money than their own employees because they didn't have to pay benefits and all that other stuff.

"I'll let the Salvage Officer know you're here." The guy handed you your stuff back and you went to sit in the empty waiting area. Tapping your toe on the floor, you could look into the entrance of the diner through the windows and door inside the office. There was only one or two customers inside and just one waitress. There was a guy sitting in the back corner, thin glasses perched on the end of his nose as he read. A paper book? Who had physical books anymore?

"(Y/N)." Your name was called by a familiar voice, and you smiled at the owner.

"Junmyeon!" He motioned with his head, and you followed him into his personal office.

"Didn't know you were working here now." You sat in front of his desk, and he chuckled, relaxing back into his office chair.

"I just transferred. What have you found?" He took the holo-tracker from you when you handed it over and plugged it into his console.

"Most of them are small…" You dimpled the corner of your mouth, looking at the monitor the best you could from your angle. He shifted the screen so you could see better, and you pointed to different marks and gave more details.

"What one is this?" He was looking at the blue logo and you shrugged.

"I have no idea; it was huge though. Looked like a Meteor-class size ship, maybe bigger. It was totally covered and left a huge crater." You emphasized with hand motions, and he panned the picture out to get the measurements before he tapped the logo so the computer could analyze it. As it spun you dug through your bag, looking to see if you had lip balm or something. You didn't notice your business friend simply watching you, more like staring. His eyes flashed to your lips as you painted the balm on your lips with your ring finger. When the console dinged, it brought both of your attention back to the machine.

"Oh, wow." He leaned in to read the information.

"I need to make some calls, can you come back in a few hours?" He looked at you and you nodded, standing.

"I can grab something to eat in the meantime!" You waved goodbye and didn't even notice when he tried to call after you. Heading back to the front of the office, you went to the door leading to the diner and the door slid open with a ding.

"Just you, girlie?" The older waitress called from behind the counter, and you nodded, going to sit at said counter.

"What can I get for you?" she asked, sassily chewing her gum. You looked over the menu and made your choice, pulling out your holo-tracker to play a game as you waited for your food. You glanced over to the back corner over your shoulder, looking at the guy reading.

"Who is that?" you asked the waitress when she came back with your drink.

"He's been hanging around here for a few days. I'm not sure what he's doing, but I know he's waiting for something. The secretary in the office might know." She nodded back to where you had been, and you told her you would be right back. Leaving your bag on your stool to save your spot, you jogged back into the office and the guy at the desk cast you a tired glance.

"Who is that guy?" You pointed toward the back corner, leaning your elbows on the ledge of the front desk.

"He's a bounty hunter of some sort I believe. He is looking for someone for some reason, is waiting there for leads. He's offering money for any information." He shrugged and you nodded in acknowledgement and headed back to the eatery. Your food was ready by the time you got back, and the waitress chuckled at how fast you shoveled it in. When you were done, you handed her your chit and meandered on over to the guy.

"I heard you're looking for someone?" You started casually and he looked up at you over his glasses and your eyes widened. He was freaking gorgeous. His left eye was highlighted red, it seemed he had some kind of hologram-like contact in it or something. His black hair was styled half up, his bangs resting over his brow. He had a few ear piercings, his left nostril had a simple loop ring, and a matching one in the middle of his bottom lip. A chain hung around his neck with a pendant on the end that was some kind of upside-down triangle design. He simply hummed in response and put a slip of paper in his book and shut it, taking his glasses off. You sat on the end of the booth, a big gap between the two of you since he was sitting in the corner of the circular seat. He slid his holo-tracker across the table showing you a blurry image from some kind of security feed. It was a person, that was about all you could tell, and they had a hood up over their head and only the bottom part of their face was visible.

"This it?" You looked back at him, and he was sitting there stiffly, just looking at you. He was really hot, actually. He had on a tan, old-style button up with the top few buttons undone. His pants were a brown leather of some kind, and he had a belt on with an attached thigh-holster that held a pistol blaster.

"They stole some schematics. I need them back more than to find the person." He tapped the screen as he looked at it upside down and it showed a second image. The person had a cylinder with a strap hung over their back.

"It’s a set of old maps, they were stolen from the archives at the museum in the Capital." he explained and you slid your finger over the full image, zooming out to see the area.

"You a bounty hunter?" You slid the holo-tracker back to him and he put it back in his pocket.

"Not really. I'm a Ranger."

"You're a Ranger!?" You perked up and he seemed taken aback by your sudden excitement. Rangers were a small and elite group, they were essentially vigilantes, freelancers. They tended to do more things like rescues or arrests, or other odd jobs. They had a pretty strict rule of not killing.

"So, you want the maps but don't need the thief?"

"Yes. I would be nice to get both, though."

"Hm. I'll ask around and see, I travel quite a bit-"

"Scavenger?"

"Y-yeah." You chuckled nervously under his intense gaze.

"Be careful out there, if you get a lead, message me." He got his tracker back out and you scanned his with yours to save his ID.

"What's your name?" you asked.

"Wonwoo…"

"(Y/N)." You smiled and got up from the booth, going to retrieve your chit.

"I'll let you know!" You grinned and waved goodbye, heading back in. Your timing was perfect because Junmyeon was finished and he told you the first wrecks weren't worth a whole lot, but the last one was.

"Two million credits?!" You balked at the number.

"Yeah. Seems it was some kind of cargo vessel, and they think it might still have all of the packages on it still. You could get even more depending on what's inside." He smiled at your gawk, and you finally shut your mouth.

"Woah."

"I can get you the two million now-"

"Really!?"

"Yes." He chuckled and you dug your chit back out and he slid it into the console so he could transfer the credits.

"Shit…" you whispered, your hand shaking a bit as you took the chit back.

"Are…you staying in a hotel tonight?" Junmyeon asked as you scrolled on your holo-tracker, admiring the giant number registered in your account.

"Yeah! I might upgrade my room~" You giggled, and he took a breath, trying to psych himself up, but no words came out before you stood to leave.

"Thanks, Myeon! I'll make sure to come here when I can, kay?" You waved goodbye and he sighed as you dashed out of his office. As you left to head back to your hotel, you saw that Wonwoo had left his booth and you wondered why. Getting outside, you realized the rally had gotten out, floods of people now walking the streets, a big crowd heading toward the diner.

"Ew." You sneered at the globs of people and dashed back to the hotel. When you got in the lobby, you skipped up to the front counter, ready to ding the bell and call the nice old man out for assistance.

"Oh?" Someone was sitting in the lobby, a book in his hand.

"Ran away from all the people?" You spoke a bit louder so he could hear you and he glanced up over his glasses again. His face wasn't quite so cold as before, but he wasn't smiling either.

"Yes." His tone was also lighter.

"There's about to be a bunch more. The campaign team is staying here and will be back soon." The old man had come out of the office, and you sneered as he laughed.

"Are you staying here too?" you asked Wonwoo who had put his book away and was taking his glasses off.

"I hadn't checked in yet."

"We do not have any more rooms available, sir. We just had an influx of online reservations since the rally got out so late…" The old man sighed, and you hummed.

"I have a second single bed in my room…?" You suggested, not meeting his eye as he came to stand by you. He had a small duffle over his shoulder. His eyes finally met yours, and he seemed a little nervous, but you could only see it in his eyes, past that red glowing contact.

"Is that alright with you?"

"Yes? I wouldn't have offered otherwise…" You huffed and the old man hummed.

"Here, I will get you a key as well." You both waited and when Wonwoo received the clear keycard, you both scurried to elevator, people starting to enter the lobby. Neither of you said anything till you had shut the door to the hotel room.

"Are you sure this is okay?" you asked him, he was even stiffer than before.

"Y-yes." He cleared his throat, and he went further into the room, taking the bed near the window since your stuff was on the other one. He told you he was going to shower, and you nodded as he dashed past you. Sighing, you shook away some very impure thoughts, and went to your safe, rolling it over to the bench under the clothing rack and hauling it up onto it with a grunt. It took two physical keys as well as two padlocks and a dial lock. It clicked each one open and then you were able to open it. The air seal 'shunked' as you opened it, and you carefully rested the lid on the wall so it wouldn't scratch it. Looking over your objects, you had some small crystal-like artifacts that you worried were just fakes from some kind of gift shop. You also had some intact parts for ship consoles and even jewelry. There had been just a random case you found washed up on the shore of an oasis once that had gold and silver necklaces and rings inside. It was never reported missing, so you just kept them. Other bits and pieces were inside as well, and your mind went back to the image Wonwoo had showed you. The hood was what caught your eye. The person was experienced, knowing how to hide their face from all angles, so they were probably an experienced thief. Who would want ancient maps though? Especially from Terra.

"What is all that?" His deep voice startled you; you hadn't even heard the bathroom door open. Glancing up, you swallowed hard at the sight. He had put most of his clothes back on, but his shirt was still unbuttoned, allowing you to see his toned torso. He had flopped a towel onto his head to dry his hair and was putting his glasses back on. Trying to ignore how freaking sexy he was, you cleared your throat and started to point things out. When you got to the crystals, you let him put up the one that was shaped like a pyramid.

"I don’t know if they are worth anything, they might be fakes.”

"Have you shone light through them?" he asked, and you hadn't even thought of it.

"No?" He handed it back and you dug through your bag and found your flashlight, holding it to the crystal.

"Woah!" You gasped as a map of the stars shone on the ceiling as the light passed through the crystal.

"Is it worth anything?" you asked him. It was cool but could still theoretically be from a gift shop.

"The fakes have a button to turn on the light, that's the real deal. Where did you find them?" He was buttoning his shirt up, unfortunately, picking up the three other crystals and coming to sit on his bead across from you. There was a sphere, one that looked like a big diamond and an obelisk. You handed him the flashlight and he shined it through the other ones. The sphere showed a projection of a globe, but it wasn't S.V.T or even Terra.

"Mars." he muttered, and you looked closer, recognizing the small dots over the surface as the towers that held the barrier around the planet. The diamond one lit up a bright aqua blue, but that seemed to be all it did. The obelisk projected the time and date, but it seemed to be from Mars as well.

"I found them in some cave. How the heck did they get all the way out here?"

"Were these the only things in the cave?"

"Yeah…So even though they are legit, are they worth anything?

"Hm. Maybe to a collector. I can take them to the museum when I go back-" he halted, "If you're okay with it, I'll pay you back." If he wasn't a Ranger, you would be more hesitant to allow it, because he could just pocket the money. You didn't think he would though, not with the reputation of his group at stake otherwise.

"Sure." You shrugged and he took them and put them in his own pack, and you went back to your safe and locked it up.

"Thank you for letting me stay here." He called suddenly as you tried to figure out how the holo-screen worked and what channels there were.

"Sure. I'm not a fan of big groups of people and this is the best hotel in town." You smiled at him, going to hand him the remote.

"Oh, no, you can choose. I'll just read." You nodded and didn't press to continue the conversation. While it was quiet between you two, it was companionable and before you knew it, you had drifted off the sleep, listening to some show and the flipping of his book pages. When you awoke, he was gone, but it was like ten in the morning, and there was an unread message on your holo-tracker.

Sorry I left without saying goodbye. Thank you for letting me stay in your room for the night. I am heading back to the capital for now and will get your crystal projectors estimated. Please let me know if you get any leads on the map thief.  -Wonwoo

You sighed, a little disappointed he just left, but he seemed quite shy and closed off. Whatever. For the rest of the day and the next few you lazed about and did some fun things to spoil yourself after your big payout, enjoying your little vacation. Over the week afterwards you were having trouble finding anything significant and had stopped at a small tavern set up near a small oasis. You sat at the bar, laying on it dramatically. The bartender had moved the fan closer to you so it could blow straight on you as you lazily sipped from the straw in your fruity drink. You glanced casually at the entrance when another person entered, and you zeroed in on their face. They had a hood on, but that didn't mean it was for sure the person Wonwoo had been looking for. After he had gotten the money from the crystals, more than you thought but not a huge amount, he had sent you more information. It was a woman, presumably, and she was pretty tall and even always wore heeled boots. Your gaze shifted to their feet but couldn't see for sure and you couldn't even tell it was a woman. You and Wonwoo had actually been messaging some even past leads on the thief. You didn't have many friends and while he had the other rangers, he said it was nice to talk to someone new. As you sat at the bar, you watched her, pretending you weren't. You casually took out your holo-tracker and took a picture of the person as discreetly as you could, then headed out. You continued to wait and watch in your rover, ready to take a  picture of their vehicle when they left. You thought you knew which one it was, but didn't know for sure, so you waited till they came back out. They got in the one you had been eyeing, and so once they headed off, you sent the two pictures and a few more details to Wonwoo. He thanked you for the update, then asked where you were. He then told you to meet him in the next town of Falko, and since you were headed there anyway…

The town was much smaller than Jaron, so there was only one small motel, so it was easy to find where he was and get to his room. He was on the first floor in room three. You knocked and barely waited before he opened it. He was…smiling. You didn't know he could do that. You forgot how gorgeous he was.

"T-thanks." You smiled bashfully and followed him inside. It seemed he had been there awhile based on everything spread out across the room. There were a few consoles set up as well as tablets and other tech.

"What's going on in here?" You motioned around the room.

"While I'm looking for the map thief, I'm also trying to get the Ranger's new communication array set up. I'm making the program myself so it can't be hacked by outside sources." Wonwoo shrugged, moving various tablets from one of the beds so you could sit down. He sat at the small desk and turned to face you. He asked a few questions about the person you saw, and you gave him more details from the pictures. It wasn't a whole lot to go on, but if it was them, then he now had their vehicle information. Before you could talk past leads on the thief, his holo-tracker went off and he read the message. He sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"My partner is coming back. It might be better if you leave." He stood to lead you out and you grimaced.

"I-It's not…I just don't want him to meet you…" He mumbled and you wanted to press the issue. His cheeks were slightly red, and he flashed another genuine smile as you left the motel room.

"I'll let you know if the lead pans out." You nodded and before you could turn and leave, he had held something out for you.

"What's this?" You took the little holo-card.

"Um…it's my address. If you are ever in Ratalla…I won't be back home for a few more days, but I should be working from there after…" Wonwoo rubbed his hands on his pants, then shoved his hands in his pockets when you noticed.

"Thanks." You gave him your own smile, then left giddily.

Nearly another month passed before you saw him in person again, but you messaged back and forth quite a lot. There was once you were near his hometown, but he wasn't there, so you missed the chance of seeing him again.

You had been meeting with a repair man in a city called Guro; your rover hadn’t been driving straight. It seemed he would need it for a few days to even determine the issue, let alone what to do after. At least you were in a place with lots of activities. You had actually gotten another half a million credits from the giant wreck you found and had more funds than you knew what to do with. As you left the shop, looking up on the extranet for the nicest hotel, someone caught your eye. Despite the heat of the desert and the midday sun, there was someone slinking around with a hood on. You watched them, eyes glancing at their feet. Heeled boots. It was also a woman, and her height matched the parameters. There was even a cylinder vessel hung over her shoulder. It was her. The area had most warehouses, and she might have been meeting a buyer, so you decided to follow her. You sent Wonwoo a message with your coordinates to see if he could send someone by as well, or better yet, call some Guards. You trotted behind her, trying to stay out of sight and remain quiet. Hiding quickly around the corner, you watched her go into an unmarked warehouse after looking around for followers. Not well enough. The thief had gone in through a large open garage door, so it made it easy for you to follow. Crouching against the wall right near the edge of the door you peered around the corner and saw she was alone, probably waiting for someone. She glanced at her holo-tracker, then went further in, toward the garage door on the opposite side that opened to a scrap yard. Looking for another hiding place, you dashed forward and hid behind a column. When you peered around though, she was gone.

"Why are you following me?" A voice called from behind you, and you spun to see the thief, holding a pistol blaster aimed at you. Your heart fell and sweat broke out on your brow. Those maps must be really valuable if this person was willing to shoot you to prevent the interruption of the hand-off.

"I-I was just trying to figure out who-" The woman pulled back the hammer on the weapon and your stomach dropped.

"Shit!" You scrambled up and tried to at least get around the column when you saw her finger going to the trigger.

"Fuck!" You slammed your back against the column, seeing a smoking scorch mark on the ground.

"(Y/N)!" a familiar voice shouted, and you were shocked by Wonwoo's presence, distracting you.

"Stupid bitch!" The thief was back behind you, and you spun to see the gun nearly at your head. You yelped when something yanked you back and you fell into a hard body. Leaning into him, you watched in terror as the woman fell back onto the ground, a hole in her head. Then you noticed not only were you breathing hard, but so was he. He spun you around to look over you, his hands on your shoulders, one going to your jaw to adjust your head so he could look you over.

"Are you okay?" He was nearly frantic, his face and tone filled with panic.

"Y-yes." You weren't sure to be more surprised by his sudden appearance or the clear worry he had for you. It made your heart thud but for a much different reason. When he had finished looking over you and determined himself you were okay, Wonwoo pulled you into a hug. You returned the embrace, more trying to comfort him than anything.

"Fuck, I was worried." He sighed right in your ear, his deep voice rumbling through you.

"You were?" He pulled back enough so he could meet your eye and huffed.

"Of course. You didn't reply when I messaged you to stay away…" His hand went back to your jaw, his thumb brushing over the skin of your cheek, which was rapidly getting warm and red. When you met his eyes again your widened, he got close again and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Are you okay?" You chuckled a bit, kind of worried. He had never shown this level of emotion before.

"Yeah." Wonwoo pulled way, petting your hair then went to the body of the woman. You tried to avoid looking at her as he took the map holder from her and soon the Guard showed up. It was another good hour or maybe two before you both were finally allowed to leave after giving statements and answering questions.

"Do you have a place to stay tonight?" he asked you as you left the warehouse district.

"Not yet. I was just about to find a hotel when I saw her…" You drifted off, pointing with your thumb in the general direction of where you just were.

"I got a crap ton of money from a wreck I found so I was going to go somewhere fancy." You smiled wide and he gave you a smaller one. Wonwoo took a step closer, looking a bit nervous, his voice had a slight waver when he spoke.

"Wanna get a room together?"

From everything after he asked that question, till your back hit the door of your hotel room, it was a blur. As soon as the door closed, he had you pressed against it, his lips swallowing yours. His big hand was at the back of your head, making sure it didn't hit the wood of the door. You had gotten one of the deluxe suites of the nice hotel, so the bedroom was separate from the living area, and there was a small kitchen even. When your lungs started to burn for more air, he finally pulled his mouth from yours. As you caught your breath, just looking at each other, Wonwoo leaned into whisper in your ear, "I'm going to fuck you on every surface in this place." He promised. Your head swam at the statement and whined.

"Please~" As soon as he got permission, he grabbed turned you around, your front pressed to the door and his nose nuzzled behind your ear. You let him do as he wished, running his hands under your thin top, starting to suck on the skin in the crook of your neck. You were a bit worried about him having to stoop over so far since he was so much taller, but if he wasn't complaining, neither would you. You could tell he was marking your skin as he licked, sucked, and nibbled over your neck and shoulders. His hands quickly got your shirt off and as his hands danced over the skin of your stomach, you toed your boots off, shoving them to the side. Before he completely removed it, Wonwoo slipped his hands under your breast band, palming the flesh, making you shiver. Undoing the latch, he took the wrap off and it fell to the floor as well. Not turning around to see for sure, you heard more fabric rustling and assumed he was removing his own top. You sighed when his arms wrapped around you, holding your back to his bare chest, the right hand cupping your left breast, and his other hand skating over your stomach. He smiled at the whining moan you let out when his hand finally went into your pants, long fingers stroking the wet patch on your panties.

"So wet, pretty girl." He kissed behind your ear, fingers tweaking your nipple.

"Wonwoo~" You whimpered when his bare fingers finally met your folds and he groaned.

"Let's see how tight you are." Every time he rumbled words in your ear, it made your whole body shiver. Sighing when his finger slid inside, he huffed, his hips twitching as your gummy walls sucked his finger in. You could feel his hardening cock through his pants, pressing into your back side. When Wonwoo added a second finger, crooking them up and pressing hard into your back wall, your legs buckled, and the only reason you didn't fall was his arms around you.

"Need to get your pussy ready for me, pretty." He smiled against your neck when your groan faded into a whine.

"Fuck~" You practically cried as his palm dug into your clit and you were already close.

"No!" You gasped when his fingers left right as you were getting to the edge.

"Wonwoo?" He had pulled away entirely, you only knew he was still behind you because his hands were on the waist band of your pants. He pulled them along with your underwear down and kneeled behind you, helping you get them off without falling over.

"Hold on, pretty girl." While you weren’t sure what he was about to do, your fingers dug futilely into the wood of the door. Your breath escaped you when he, without real warning, shoved his tongue into your cunt, his thumb flicking your clit. Your legs immediately began to shake, a mewl escaping with each rapid breath. You were done for when his lips sealed around your clit, barely flicking with his tongue, and your nails dug into the wood as you released on his tongue. He chuckled, your cunt dripping release onto the floor.

"Gonna have to clean this place good…" You joked, breathless and he laughed harder. Wonwoo hummed, standing back up. There was more shuffling as you rested against the door panting. You sighed when his arms came back to you, pulling you back into his now completely naked body. His cock was wedged in the crook of your ass, and you swore under your breath, why was he so freaking big? He was tall and his shoulders were broad, and apparently had to have a fat cock as well.

"Fuck!" You groaned when the head of his cock went to the entrance of your core. One of his arms wrapped around your ribs, the hand resting under your breast, and the other was at your hip.

"Ready?" His tone had shifted, it was playful and cocky, a slight laugh accompanied the word.

"Please!" You gasped as he started to push in, your legs shook as his dick stretched you open. You hadn't been fucked in a long time, and longer still fucked good. You panted out little whines as he kept filling you, and it seemed like he was going to end up in your throat. Your whole body was trembling when he finally bottomed out, his strong hips pressed against your ass.

"God, your cunt feels so good, princess." His groan rumbled through both of you. You couldn't see, but his head was thrown back, adam's apple bobbing as he tried to get used to how tight you were. When he realized you were on your tip toes trying to compensate for the height difference, he shifted to ease the strain. He backed up so you could lean forward more, and he angled his hips down. Your feet were no longer burning, and his new angle seemed to get him even deeper somehow. Your cunt was burning too, trying to accommodate his size, slick walls fluttering from the stimulation. He had still barely moved, letting you adjust, but you were growing close again.

"Move…" Your request was so quiet. You were trying not to moan like a bitch in heat even though that was exactly how you felt.

"Slow? Fast?"

"Fuck- Wonwoo, just-" He pulled out about halfway and thrust back in, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. You both moaned, his hands left their original positions to grip the flesh of your ass and he chuckled when you nearly sobbed as he started. Only pulling out part of the way, he would fuck back into you hard, grinding his pubic bone into you each time.

"Fucking hell, Wonwoo~" You ended up back on your toes just from the pleasure and you hoped they wouldn't fine you too bad for the scratches your nails were carving into the wood. All your breath got fucked out of you when he finally gave a full thrust, your orgasm slamming into you.

"Shit-" Wonwoo grunted when your already tight cunt squeezed him even more, he had to slow down just to keep himself from cumming as well. He smirked, watching your fingers twitch as you clawed the door, your head flopped forward between your shoulders.

"No, no, no!" You babbled as he pulled out all the way, huffing in amusement at your whining.

"Come here, pretty." Wonwoo easily lifted you, somewhere between like a sack of potatoes and a princess. Your head was still swimming from your orgasm, so the move to the next location was a bit blurry. You shivered and mewled when he set you on the counter that was in the mini kitchen of the suite, the marble very cold on your bare thighs and pussy. He laughed at your yelp when he pulled you, so your butt was right at the end of the counter, and didn't hesitate to bury himself back into you. The thrust was harsher and faster than the first and your hands flew to his shoulders to steady yourself as he restarted the brutal rhythm that he was fucking you against the door with. The man groaned when your nails dug into his skin instead of the wood, so he decided to mark you himself.

"Wonwoo~" Your voice wavered, eyes starting to tear up at the feeling of him fucking your brains out. His mouth went to your own shoulder, at the base of your neck. He started with open mouth kisses, then sucked the skin before lightly sinking his teeth in. He could feel your whimper against your throat, and you felt his responding hum from his lips. Wonwoo tightened his grip as well, wanting to leave bruises shaped like his hands on your skin. He was struggling to hold you upright enough, so you didn't bang your head against the counter, and his knees kept knocking into the cabinet.

"Hold on…" He grunted, and you squeaked when, without withdrawing, picked you up, holding your legs around his waist. Not going far, one hand held your butt and the other went to hitch your leg over his elbow as he pinned you to the wall. Luckily the paint on the wall wasn't textured, your back rubbing over the surface as you bounced on his cock. Wonwoo looked even more gorgeous than normal like that, naked, sweat covering his brow, pupils blown wide. The red, dancing hologram of his eye contact contracted and spun, and you wondered what it did, if anything. With hazy thoughts, you glanced down at his body, whining at the sight of his abs, clenched to work his hips and hold you up.

"Fuck, pretty girl-" He exhaled harshly, his thrusts getting less regular as he grew closer to his orgasm.

"Inside, please, fuck!" You pleaded and he had no desire to argue. His forehead landed on your shoulder, and he moaned higher than you thought he could go as he pumped his cum into you. In the silence, cutting through both of your panting breaths, your combined release dripped onto the tile floor. Your head was so empty you nearly didn't realize you had came again as well. You tried hard not to slump like a rag doll since he was completely holding you up, but you had nearly no strength.

"Let's get to the bed." Wonwoo stood up straight, staying inside, his cock still rock-hard and he carried you to the separate bedroom of the suite. While he meant to set you down on the bed gently, you flopped onto it, letting yourself finally go boneless, your muscles and mind were mush. You weren't sure if you could go any longer, but despite a bit of sweat on him, he was unaffected.

"I've been waiting to fuck you since you came to my motel room in Falko." He admitted, shifting you higher on the bed, following suit, his hard cock covered in both of yours cum resting between the folds of your cunt. You barely registered the confession before your back arched, his cock finding its home inside of you again. It was hard to fully catch your breath, he was battering his cock into your dripping cunt without any mercy. As he rolled his hips just right to hit every single good spot inside of you, his hands gripped your thighs, maneuvering your weakly shaking thighs so they were pressed to your chest, knees at your ears.

"D-daddy, go slower!" You keened and his hips immediately stopped. You were too far gone to feel anything but a bit of respite, head flopping so your cheek rested on the pillow.

"Fucking hell, princess." Somehow his voice had gotten deeper, and he started the brutal pace back up, snapping his hips even harder than before. If you had the strength to scream you would, but your throat was hoarse, so you just mewled and squeaked, drool pooling from the corners of your mouth, tears down your cheeks.

"You love daddy's cock ruining your sweet little cunt, huh?" He huffed when your glassy eyes met his. The red hologram spun and danced, and while you couldn't see, through the lens he had a much different view. Little numbers and labels shown in the air around your body, telling him how and where your brain was firing, your heart rate, body temperature, blood pressure. He could even highlight where blood pooled to the bruises his hands had made.

"Yes~!" You gasped as his thrusts slowed down, but just as hard, he barely pulled out before grinding down into you. Different sensors from his lens flashed on and he could tell you were getting close already. Even without it, he could feel your walls pulsing, more of your wet dripping from where your bodies met.

"You wanna cum, pretty?" You nodded rapidly, whimpering positively.

"Cum for daddy, then." And with one more thrust you fell over the edge. Not just from his words, but also the rough friction of his pelvic bone meeting your clit. Wonwoo chuckled as he felt your pussy spasm, more of your cum squirting from your quivering folds, coating his skin as well. He had a feeling you were spent even though he knew he could keep going. He had stilled inside of you, so he didn't overstimulate you too much, and he wasn't for sure you were still conscious. Your eyes were closed, arms resting on the bed up by your head. He smiled warmly, cooing at your fucked out state, letting your legs go so they could rest onto the bed as well. When he pulled out you shuddered, a long shaky keen floating from your parted lips. He was shocked at the globs of thick, white cum that dripped out of your swollen cunt and he was still unfortunately still very hard. After feeling your core milk him dry, he wasn't sure even a cold shower would calm him down. Though, seeing you laying there, he felt a little bad he had caused you to become so worn out and didn't want to be selfish.

"Oh, princess." Wonwoo leaned back over you, kissing your cheek, the corner of your mouth, then softly pressed his lips to yours. You sighed and it made him grin, you were at least conscious.

"You're still hard." Your voice was quiet, higher than normal, almost whiny.

"It's okay, pretty, you're tired." Wonwoo nuzzled the side of your neck under your ear, lightly sucking on your ear lobe. If he wasn't careful, he would not be able to resist sliding back inside you. With the little strength you had return to you, you pushed him back just enough that you could flop over onto your stomach.

"(Y/N), we don't-" You didn't let him finish, grabbing a pillow to shove under your hips, lifting your butt a bit higher.

"Please, daddy~" You looked at him with shining eyes over your shoulder, and who was he to resist?

"Oh, fuck, princess. If you insist…"

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

Seventeen Master List

Taglist: @gaslysainz

[madlori]

I'm asking this to you because you're the only person I know who's been around fandoms for so long — do you find this shipping-situation weird? I've been in many fandoms but I've never really seen this insistence on there being only one acceptable ship for a character and encouraging the idea that anything other than the norm is almost sacrilegious. Almost every big fandom over the years have had multiple conflicting pairings, take for example, Marvel. Even works of media that have a canon romantic pairing have had fans who ship others with the leads (that was what shipping was tbh) and no one has ever shown up to their doorsteps with pitchforks in hand, at least not that I'm aware of. So I guess I'd really like your opinion on why you think this is happening now? Have things always been this way, just not in plain sight? Is this just the new fandom culture that is developing now with the influx of younger people? Or is this fandom an aberration where a group of people are so used to being the majority that they simply aren't taking well to things not going their way?

I've been thinking about this today, and I'm still not sure what I think.

I've been in fandoms with a hugely dominant ship before. I've been in fandoms that had ship wars. I've been in fandoms with a lot of peacefully co-existing ships. I'm not sure this fandom is really all that different. To answer your first question, no, I don't find it all that weird. In fact I sort of expected it.

Let me tell you a story about the Brokeback Mountain fandom, which managed to have a ship war despite having really only one ship, the canon ship. So BBM fic fell into several broad categories, the biggest of which were fix-the-ending/canon divergence fics and the straight-up AU fics (I wrote one of each, lol). Post-canon fics weren't as common, because you had to deal with one half of the canon pairing being...well, dead.

There was a post-canon fic that gained a lot of fans...and when I say "fic" that's really an understatement. It was a SAGA, and I don't use that term lightly. It was a series of like...6 or 7 epic 100K+ word fics and it was over a million words total. The author would put out more than one 5K chapters per DAY. I'm still in awe of this woman's output. But it was the content that created the issue.

(Brief recap for those who have not seen BBM - two ranch hands in the 1960s, Ennis (Heath Ledger) and Jack (Jake Gyllenhaal) spend a season herding sheep together, have sex, form a bond, then separate to go about their expected hetero lives but get together for fishing trips every year or so to have sex and spend time together. Jack wants more, Ennis is terrified. Both marry and have families. Eventually Jack dies in what is implied to be a gay-bashing but who knows, and Ennis makes his peace with the love he'd felt for him)

The saga picked up a couple of years after the film's events. Ennis decides to tentatively explore what being queer means, goes to Laramie, finds a gay bar, and very cautiously enters. Through a Series of Events he gets mixed up in an assault there and befriends a local sheriff's deputy, who is also gay. They begin a relationship.

Now, this series was COMPLEX. A huge cast of characters, a long and thorough evolution of this relationship, a lot of angst over Jack's memory, and it really worked for a LOT of readers. The new love interest she created was a really great character.

For others...it did not work and they hated it.

The animosity between fans who loved this saga and those that did not grew pretty heated. This was like '05 so there was no twitter or tumblr, this was all on LJ and dedicated fandom forums (some of which banned discussion of this fic for this reason), but there was doxxing and namecalling and real vitriol.

I guess my point in all this is that when there's strong feelings, some fans will find a way to be horrible to each other.

I was in the Sherlock fandom, another fandom 98% dominated by one ship. There were other ships, but somehow they seemed to co-exist mostly peacefully barring some snide remarks and rude comments (I could be wrong about this, if you asked someone who shipped a non-Johnlock ship they might have a different answer). No, the insanity in the Sherlock fandom was not ship-war-related.

I was also in the Criminal Minds fandom, which has a whole bunch of disparate ships and no ship wars that I can recall.

Then there are other fandoms, like Avatar, with TERRIBLE ship wars that are still going on.

I don't think the situation in 9-1-1 is as unique or different from other fandom wanks as has sometimes been asserted. I think terrible fandom wars are sort of inevitable, whether they're ship related or not. But for what it's worth, here are some of my thoughts on what's going on here.

A loooooong time (5.5 seasons) with one very dominant non-canonical queer ship. No other ship really ever approached the level of saturation or devotion of Buddie.

A pervasive belief that this ship might possibly become canon. That's a feature a lot of other ships do not have.

A lack of intense devotion to any of the other love interests. BuckTaylor was never a challenger to Buddie. Neither was Eddie and Shannon, or anybody else. It's hard to fight when there's no worthy challenger.

But now? BuckTommy is not only canon, but it has a lot of fans. It's a threat. And it's not only a threat in a feelings kind of way (as in, people like a thing that is not the thing I like and it makes me upset) but there's a perception that it's an ACTUAL threat, as in if people like this ship and promote it, it could cause it to become a permanent relationship (the degree to which fan response actually affects how the show unfolds is...debatable).

I do not personally think this is the case, but some fans strongly believe that Buddie could still happen if it weren't for BuckTommy. So if you're still wanting Buddie and believe it will or could happen, the existence of an alternate love interest represents a direct obstacle to that happening. That's a heck of an incentive to hate that competing ship. I get it.

That...might be a somewhat unique situation. There's a fight now because there's a challenger who might actually stand a chance.

This goes along with what we saw in the immediate aftermath of 7x04. I read someone else say (apologies, I don't know who it was, feel free to @ me if it was you and I'll credit you) that the early post-7x04 enthusiasm and acceptance of Tommy reflected the belief that he was temporary. A lot of folks thought it was just a way for Buck to get with Eddie, like, very soon after that. But the more time went by, the clearer it became that this was not the plan or the intention. So the mood soured for those who were still pulling for Buddie.

Other fandoms I've been in with a hugely dominant ship...Sherlock and X-Files are the two that spring immediately to mind...there was never a challenger with any legs. X-Files fandom wank was between the ship and the...lack of ship, shall we say. But a concrete, tangible "opponent" makes a fight so much more visceral, doesn't it?

I do think there's been a fandom shift towards needing ships to be canon that I don't really get, but it's there. There's been a lot written about fandom culture in the last ten years, the breakdown of boundaries between fans and creators, the access to those creators, a sense of ownership/entitlement, purity culture, obsession with shipping "correctly" (which leads into wanting things to be canon for the validation)...these are all newish features. So pile that on top of 9-1-1 having a longtime single ship that's legitimately threatened for the first time in its existence by a competing canon ship and it's kind of a powderkeg.

No wonder it's caught on fire.

[writeyouin]

Could I request a scenario? During the mutiny of the Lost Light, liaison reader somehow missed the whole thing and is stuck on the Lost Light with no leadership and some bots who are not too keen on them being there. They hide out in the vents and sort of just stay there like “Day 23 in the vents. They haven’t found me yet but when they do they’ll be surprised.” Getaway swears he hears something but bots who are friends with the liaison swear they can’t hear anything.

A/N – Okay, so I actually wrote a full fic for this last year and I was typing it up and the whole thing got deleted and then I couldn’t find the notebook I wrote it in and ever since then I’ve just despised that I lost it and never attempted to re-write it. Anyway, now I’m going to do it as bullet points.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Maybe it’s just because you were so small that you escaped into the vents unnoticed, or maybe Getaway was planning on keeping you as a hostage, or some kind of fucked up pet. That seemed like something he would do.

Either way, when the chaos began, you went unfound, and you decided to keep it that way, stubbornly hiding inside the ventilation system. You knew them a bit too well because of regular games with Skids where you hunted one another, trying to beat the timer.

You had tried to get to Rodimus, Megatron, Ratchet, and any number of the bots you knew. But there was no reaching them in time.

Now, you were stuck on the Lost Light, unable to return to your room, except for the rare occasions you needed to reach the food replicator. You were damned lucky there were a select number of tiny storage compartments only you could get into which had been turned into toilets for you.

Frankly, you wished more of them were showers, but sometimes it helped to be sweaty and gross as you mentally lived the John McClane lifestyle, though frankly, you could get through the vents upright, with no need to crawl.

Initially, Getaway must have suspected that you might still be on the ship because he put your room under guard and left food traps out for you.

Honestly, how stupid did he think you were?

You were smarter than he knew, and on top of it, you were pissed.

Yet, when it became clear you couldn’t rescue the bots he and his crew had mutinied against, you decided to use your intellect to psychologically destroy him… or at least fuck with him as best you could.

Having fallen asleep in the vents, you had lost track of him. This happened every couple of days or so since you were more determined to watch Getaway than you were to rest.

Honestly, you didn’t know whether you were more or less healthy than before. You were losing weight from tiredness, despite having enough food and water in your pack from the replicator. But you had more stamina and endurance than before from all the stalking you did.

“Target acquired,” You said under your breath as you found Getaway in his hab-suite. He was in stasis.

Perfect.

You got in position, standing directly above his chassis.

“Okay,” You whispered, kneeling and rooting through your backpack. “Ready to deploy, Agent RJ?”

Agent RJ was one of the Roombas you had collected from the vents. They had a more rounded top than Earth Roombas, and kind of reminded you of a horseshoe crab with the rounded top.

This one was Agent RJ, full alias: Rodimus Junior.

You had recruited it, painted it with Rodimus’ colours, and now you were going to drop it on your enemy while he slept.

Lifting the vent grate slightly, you threw Agent RJ as hard as you could, then scurried back where you wouldn’t be seen.

Getaway woke with a start then yelped an undignified scream at the sight of the message on top of RJ.

I’m coming for you, you ship-stealing fragger!

The best part was that it was written in Cybertronian so he wouldn’t ever think of suspecting you. You had learned to write it from Cyclonus a long time ago, though it was impossible for you to speak it.

Take that fucker.

Getaway ran to the other side of the room, starting the alarm. You smiled in satisfaction. It was great whenever he did that. The remaining crew were getting really sick of his paranoid antics. Especially when Getaway claimed he kept hearing someone, but that was also just you pretending to be the voices of those he’d thrown off the ship, though you only did it when he was alone.

Once, Roller had heard you and found you shortly thereafter, but he had let you go and told you to stay hidden.

You asked him why he was helping you, and he’d informed you there were a few bots with regrets about the mutiny.

You visited him when you could, but it was always a risk to leave the protection of your high haven. Still, you felt safe knowing there was at least one bot on the ship who would look out for you, probably more if the rumours about others regretting their actions were to be believed.

You waited for Getaway to get some distance from you before going after him, leaving just enough of a gap so as not to be noticed while you spoke into a… Well, you didn’t know what it was, but for the sake of your sanity, the little machine was a voice recorder, even if it couldn’t technically do that.

“Day 32 in the vents. Mission success. Note: Enlist more Roombas into the rebellion.”

It took a little while to run across another of the little cleaners whilst following snatches of Getaway’s conversation, seeing him every couple of minutes through the grates you passed over.

You snatched up the Roomba, hugging it to your chest.

Then, very seriously, you addressed it, “Welcome to the war effort, Megatron Junior. Sometime in the next 30 days, you will be deployed to the enemy camp when he sleeps. You have until then to train.”

When Getaway finally settled in a seat, grumbling at his subordinates, you took some time to start painting Agent MJ. He needed to look good for his Quest against that double-crossing son of a bitch.

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

ok, i'm being so brave and making the rec post that i told anon i would do like three days ago.

the obligatory caveats. this is not comprehensive—i haven't read all the fic in this fandom, and i've barely looked at anything not in english. my reading habits are pretty broad—i'll read almost any pairing, and am generally willing to suspend my disbelief to do so. i am not usually an au person, though this fandom is doing its absolute damndest to prove me wrong on that point.

also i have…more…fics that i felt i should rec somewhere, so probably this is rec post one, but ten felt like enough and also saying things in public where people can hear me is, it turns out, absolutely excruciating. please no one be mean to me about this post, especially if you wrote one of these fics, because if you are i will simply fill my pockets with rocks and take to the sea, ok? ok.

excited to find out what i manage to do that ruins the formatting, links the wrong fics and/or people, or otherwise breaks things in this post. please tell me if i've fucked up, or if your fic is on this list and you would rather i keep your name out of my mouth, or whatever.

first, a very special mention to the mlc reference guide by @yletylyf. this is such an incredibly comprehensive and generous resource. you want a timeline for this show that does an incredibly poor job of maintaining its own timeline? it's here. you want episode summaries? they're here. you want all the people and places? they're here. if you're writing fic, you want this guide, because it's so much easier and faster than scanning episodes or subs files to figure out the name of one specific guy or whatever. it also means that at least occasionally you work on the thing rather than accidentally rewatching the same scene five times, or hypothetically watching two to four episodes without even really thinking about what you're doing. the reference guide is the unsung mvp of fandom.

beyond porch and portal, difanghua, teen, by willowdream. this is the vampire au that i didn't know i wanted? the author posted it and their note was like 'i'm trying to be the change i want to see in the world,' and i was like ok sure, i'm not really convinced that the change i need is vampire aus, but i'll give it a go, and then i did and was like, oh shit, i'm eating fucking glass about this vampire au, i'm chewing on my own fucking fingers, i'm so fucking normal about this, i need another hundred thousand words of this and also seventeen more vampire aus in my inbox by monday morning. i literally finished reading it and scrolled right back to the top to read it again. i have no idea why this fic hits so hard, but it took me out at the knees. the voices are perfect. something about it is just impossibly compelling.

不安的遠離，再无歸期 | restless distance, without return, fang duobing/qiao wanmian, mature and teen, by @difeisheng. this is technically two fics but they're short and you should read both of them because they're such a brutal, perfect encapsulation of grief, and a really beautiful acknowledgement of the ways that fang duobing and qiao wanmian can be read as reflections of each other, separated by a decade, and it just fucking guts me. i dunno. it's about the grief! it's about the yearning! it's about someone who understands parts of you that you wish didn't exist! i think i've reread this like once a week for the last six weeks and i feel like it gets overlooked because it's not A Ship but like. it could be. it should be.

dance the silence down, fanghua and feihua, explicit, by @momosandlemonsoda. this fic. ugh. ok. i'm breaking my own rules. i had two when i started writing this post: no works in progress, and no reccing things that i haven't left a comment on, like a goddamn grownup. this one fic is breaking both of those rules and i feel bad about it and will hopefully spend like, all day tomorrow just commenting on every chapter or something, but i have to do this. this fic is so good. this fic ruins me. this fic is 63k, still a work in progress, and also if i were losing the whole internet tomorrow and i got to keep one fic in all the world and it was the only fic i could have for the rest of time, it might have to be this one, even as a work in progress. i ignored this fic for so long—by which i mean probably two of the four months since i first watched mysterious lotus casebook—because i was like, i don't like aus, and i especially don't like rock star aus. (or sex work aus, and you're never gonna fucking believe what else this author is writing and what else i absolutely cannot get enough of—this is a sneaky bonus rec for all i wanna do is wrong, another fic that i feel so so so normal about!) but then i was like okkkkkkk but. maybe i'll try it. people seem to be nuts for it. and then i read it and i was like OH HOLY SHIT PEOPLE ARE FULLY CORRECT TO BE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED ABOUT THIS and normally, honestly, i wouldn't bother posting a rec like this because it's like 'oh haha have you read the five most popular fics in this fandom?' and it feels so redundant, but i know for a fact that a friend of mine who finished watching the show yesterday is reading this post, and even if everyone else has read it, she has not! anyhow as a former music person and a former diner cook, this fic like. i don't know. i feel like it broke me but also fixed me? i literally criticise writing professionally and every time i try to talk about this fic i find myself speechless because it's so perfect to me. i am deeply unwell about this fic. every time a new chapter comes out i sit down and read the whole thing again, yes, all sixty-thousand-plus words of it. some nights you go to bed and you're like 'what's the fucking point?' and then you're like 'no wait, there will eventually be more of dance the silence down,' and somehow that makes things suck a tiny bit less. my wife has made me take out like six sentences from this rec because they're too intense and too weird about it but i need you to understand: you have to read this fic.

in this dream, there is a lover to share this life with, fanghua, g, by @lianhuajing. alternative ending for the end of episode 27, in which li lianhua—precious man who has yet to discover a hill he's not willing to die on—apologises to fang duobing the only way he knows how, and it's wildly upsetting for everyone (but it's ok and it doesn't end miserably, no one panic). this is a delightfully angsty treat, and i love how conflicted fang duobing is in it—i feel like it's not something that i've seen explored a lot, but this poor boy really fuckin goes through it—his best friend and his childhood idol are the same person but are lying to him about it, and his dad's not actually his father and has been lying to him about it, and his best friend/childhood idol may have killed his father, and—yeah, is lying to him about it. like? someone give this poor man a hug and a cup of tea and a snack and a blankie. i love that we get to see some of his internal conflict in this.

quintessence of dust, feihua, teen, by justthereforit. this plays with one of my very most favourite tropes in the world, which is the one where the heart is a physical object and a physical form of trust and control and surrender and—like. this is so good. it's set in episode 13, which is, for me, one of the absolute peak angst points, and it absolutely nails it. di feisheng who's upset and vulnerable and frustrated and angry, li lianhua who knows he's going to die and can't bear the thought that he's going to take anyone else down with him, and they're both just so fucked up. chef kiss. i love it when everyone is emotionally wrecked and continually like 'ok no, i can take one more knife in my soul to protect someone else', and this absolutely delivers on that.

under moonlight, we change our futures yet again, feihua, explicit, by @thesilversun. the wedding room! obviously we have to have a wedding room fic, right? i'm not going to lie: i'm willing to suspend a lot of disbelief for wedding room fics, but in this one, it's actually a wonderfully, horrifyingly plausible setup. it walks a really fine line of keeping people in character, and acknowledging the inherent horror and seriousness of the situation, and also providing some desperately hot sex, and also managing to get the emotional beats of it, too. it has a sequel, which imo really has to be read as the conclusion to this fic, and it's just as good. it's possible that some of what i'm saying here is 'i love vulnerable-inside crusty-outside di feisheng' but like. i do. i love it so much.

what's sealed away, feihua, teen, by @bbcphile. AMNESIA FIC yessssss, a-fei my beloved, fics that handle brain damage/memory issues/amnesia well my beloveddddd. i love the a-fei arc, but i also have had a number of brain injuries and some other stuff that means that my own memory is…not so great, so i sometimes really struggle with how often amnesia in fiction is played off either as nothing to worry about or as a funny thing where everyone's in on the joke except the person who has amnesia. this fic is a great and sometimes very visceral exploration of a horrifying experience, and a really fantastic study of a-fei/di feisheng as a character, as well as the relationship that he has with li lianhua. a-fei trying to balance the trust he has in the sense memory of his body with his understanding of his relationship with li lianhua with li lianhua's reaction to—everything, really—is really well done and wonderful/terrible to read.

我只愿面朝大海 | i wish only to face the sea, g, by foreverstudent. ok so you wanna fuck yourself up some more? go read this. this is canon divergence from episode 39, and fang duobing has learned too well the lessons he's been taught, and sees the shape of things before li lianhua ever touches the wangchuan flower—so he sets about making sure that he won't be able to throw it away. this is agonising and gorgeous and maintains the canon relationships while developing the narrative differently. i wept literal tears. i was like 'ok that's it the worst part is over!' and then i remembered that there was another part coming and then i started crying. anyhow, it is—as ever, with me—about the devotion.

我住長江頭, 君住長江尾 -- i live upstream, you live downstream, fanghua, teen, by @rimbaudofficial. ok so this is Not a fic that i should like, because i am a massive academic failure and despite being in my forties have regular nightmares about having to re-engage with academia for like. any reason. HOWEVER. as noted, i read indiscriminately, even when i'm like 'reading this is a terrible idea and will be upsetting for me personally!', so i was like 'well, how bad of an idea can it possibly be?' and then instead! it was. incredibly charming? it was so fucking cute? the fang duobing characterisation in this is somehow just perfect to me—he's simultaneously confident and vulnerable, and also just so deeply committed to the weird clueless guy who he's decided is meant for him. di feisheng and li lianhua have a perfect weird-bros friendship. i would read another ten chapters of this and i would love it.

[writing-for-life]

Ok, I’m not going to get involved in a certain thread because I don’t want any drama and the line of argumentation leans too much to one side already (the views of the vocal majority in this fandom) for it to make much sense to contribute, but I had a few thoughts today:

In a fandom where people write AUs full of cows and merpeople and other shenanigans that have nothing to do with canon (or the actual characters, to be frank), they can’t do that for Calliope (or any other female character, for that matter)?

She doesn’t get to play in the sandbox?

We don’t have the imagination to turn her into one of the two dolls that kiss?

We have to keep her in character while everyone else can be turned into… whatever person (certainly neither the one of the comics nor the show)?

We constantly have to remember her strife and trauma and can’t invent (!, that’s what writing is about!) a different or new side to her? Or a better future? One in which she gets to be happy?

Or we can’t turn her into someone she canonically isn’t?

While all of this always, always works for Dream? Or the hairy guy?

And speaking of said guy: Do we have any reason to think Dream would treat him better than Nada? We’re automatically assuming he’d do the same thing to Calliope, but not to him? Or: Why do we assume he would do what he did to Nada to any other love interest, because canonically, there’s no evidence for that (we wrote about this on here before)? So no, that line of argument just doesn’t fly in my view.

If Calliope and Dream have chemistry and people are able to acknowledge it (which most do), that on its own is enough to ship them. The chemistry argument works with every M/M ship. Why doesn’t it work with her?

Oh, she is allowed in gen fics (and I am a fan of those btw, but that’s past the point), or as a character with very little agency, or any personal or sexual desires. Even better if she serves the ship. That’s okay of course, I forgot. Reminds me of most of the women of the Sandman—I wonder why.

I just wish people would give the honest reason without going through all the mental gymnastics of why Dreamuse is not an interesting (or even bad or problematic) ship, and the other one is the best invention since sliced bread:

They want to see/imagine two guys together.

There, I said it, it wasn’t hard. It’s really as simple as that in fandom, it’s a predictable fantasy, and it’s the same in every fandom. The Sandman isn’t any different.

M/F ships are frowned upon because they’re “heteronormative”, and yet, (mostly) women proceed to project (mostly) heteronormative relationship dynamics on two guys of which they fancy at least one and use the other to project themselves on. Sometimes, they fancy both of them and get more of what they have the hots for. Good for them, there’s nothing wrong with it. We have oodles of research by now why some women prefer M/M porn; it’s not earth-shattering, groundbreaking or “queer-positive” (it sometimes fetishises homosexuality though, but that’s a different topic). It’s been like that since at least the times of Spirk, and probably longer. It’s actually a fairly (dare I utter the word on here?) straight female sexual fantasy. The queer-positivity everyone is so enamoured with is more than, and not singularly limited to, shipping M/M—as a bisexual woman, I personally can’t identify with that line of thinking at all, but other people’s mileage might vary…

If people are into smutty/explicit fanfic , that’s just how it works: Some women project on a female body while imagining to get railed by a guy, others prefer to imagine two guys because they fancy men. Again: Nothing wrong with it, but it’s also not as deep as people often pretend it is.

Yes, I wrote about that one before as well. That’s why I can do it again—“once your reputation is ruined” and all that 🤣

It’s ok to be horny for two guys without turning it into a brain-contorting statement every time.

It’s also okay to reflect on the wider implications of completely erasing women from EVERY fandom, especially if you identify as one.

Edited on May 27 since it’s obviously necessary:

If people’s main takeaway from this post is that it’s about criticising fetishising homosexuality, they clearly have a reading comprehension problem and should read it again. “Sometimes” doesn’t mean “always”, plus it wasn’t even a main point. I even said that fancying m/m is a fairly middle-of-the-road-fantasy, and that there’s nothing wrong with it. The internalised misogyny that shows in people who think they are “saving women from men” by completely erasing them from the narrative and only centering men is a different topic, but these two things aren’t the same.

If people’s main response to this post is, “Then write your own stuff,” they also have a reading comprehension problem and did not get at all what this is about. It’s also the slightly old getting standard response to anything that invites critical thinking, but that one isn’t all that surprising anymore. The assumption people aren’t writing their own stuff is also a bit… silly? But I imagine that misconception is down to the fact that those people never check any tags beyond one or two, and certainly never any that involve female characters. [And to say it quite frankly: That some people wrote verbatim, “If you want Dream and Calliope to fuck so badly, write it yourself,” just shows me that they’re incapable of viewing anything but through a sex/smut lens. Good for you, kids, your world sounds so exciting *slow clap*. But maybe don’t project your thirst on everyone else.]

Some people in the OP this was about even made good points, and I didn’t criticise any of those because they are true.

This post is about the double standards people apply when they say why one ship (m/m) is more successful than the other (m/f):

Trauma? Never a problem when it’s Dream.

Relationship that somehow “shouldn’t work”? Never a problem in tropes like enemies to lovers and many others that are totally used for thee ship. Or with two people (read: men) they really want to see together.

Bending a character beyond recognition or giving them a totally different backstory, because that would solve the “relationship has run its course”-issue? Never a problem with the two guys who can be anything from a cow to a mafia boss. But the women? Nope, we have to remember their trauma and strife, keep them exactly as in the source material and protect their sacredness by completely ignoring them.

Still don’t get that this is not about a ship per se but the erasure of all women from stories bar being cheerleaders for thee m/m ship in some way? Okay, then that one’s really beyond anything I can explain, although I think some people just like to consciously misrepresent stuff or really don’t do anything but skim-read. That’s not on me I guess…