#i miss the sea so badly

[nanaqui]

Current dream job: ghost in a flowing white gown walking the cliffs on stormy nights, holding a lantern which can be seen from the other side of the bay. Seeing my lantern is a sign of good luck, but hearing my mournful song is a bad omen. Every pub owner in the area knows to leave me a pint of stout & a small bowl of peanuts & salted crackers on a windowsill.

[cj-kenobi]

I miss my wife (the ocean)

[potatoesandsunshine]

normal character playlist hours

[biillys]

Don't think about Billy shaking Max awake when the house is filled with snores not muffled whines. Bruises hidden in the dark but wincing as he lifts his arm, Max rolling away until she stills in realization. They leave together, breath held as the window frame in a bedroom slides up. The Camaro starts - if Billy has the key. maybe they walk the few miles to the pool, Hawkins is small and it's dark and the demodogs aren't coming back. They're making themselves safe, just by leaving for the night.

The pool beckons, familiar shadows in the poolhouse and stacked chairs higher than Max is tall. Billy pulls one down for her, a screech of metal legs over poured concrete. He doesn't wince at the sound as Max raids the lost & found for towels. Or maybe they just keep a stash of towels, a spare set of clothes in Billy's lifeguard locker. No blankets or pillows, nothing that can't be explained away even if they're always gone with the dim rays of dawn peeking through the forest. The pool glitters in those brief moments, almost peaceful even if it's not the sea that Billy misses so badly it aches.

It's not meant to be more than an occasional thing, but Billy can't bear leaving her alone in the house on Cherry Lane. It won't be permanent, he just needs a little more in his rainy day fund. A bank account that Neil can't touch, one that has his name and maybe Susan's on it.

He thinks he'll have enough money for an apartment, maybe a trailer on the other side of town with scraggly weeds and his dealer, by the end of July.

losing my mind losing my mind losing my mind please this is exactly what i wanted to hear about after writing those tags on that post i love you 🥺

[pa-pa-plasma]

I just watched the Sea Beast again (2nd viewing, 1st was when it came out) & it just kicked up all of my grievances again. Don't get me wrong, I love this movieーgood visuals, good voice actorsーbut from a writing standpoint it sucks so fucking bad & I couldn't remember the soundtrack if you put a gun to my head. might write an rant essay on it idfk

[hauntingblue]

ANOTHER DEATH BY INMOLATION???? ENOUGH!!!!

[patorucho]

[cow-smells]

Worth your While | Opla! Sanji x reader

Request: I've read that you are in the need for some Sanji request or ideas so here's one for a fic :D

The crew gets into a fight ( it can be the Navy or anither pirate crew) and the reader gets badly hit and Sanji just loses his shit seeing the person that he cared for the most getting knocked out?? I just genuinely wanna see Sanji just go ape shit on people because of it XD and maybe hiw the others in the clue will react to seeing Sanji like that? @smolracoon25

Summary: You and Sanji have been playing the flirting game for way too long. When you get injured, Sanji shows a side of himself you had yet to see.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

A/n: I'm going purely off the live-action so pls have that in mind, also I'm just getting back in to the rhythm of writing after such a long time so sorry if this is poop/ooc/both, love ya :)

Read on AO3

“Don't you ever take a break?”

Zoro's voice coming from behind startled you, forcing you to break your longing gaze at Sanji who was fishing at the bow of the ship. “Huh?” came your wise response.

Zoro looked from you to Sanji. “You've been making moon eyes at him for months now. Don't you get tired? Or are you waiting for him to take his shift staring at you so that you can clock off?”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. This was far from the first time crew members commented about you and Sanji's – whatever was going on between you two – but this was the first time Zoro called you out so blatantly.

When you didn't respond, Zoro went on. “I just came to tell you we should be docking soon. I'll leave you the pleasure of telling the cook.” with that, he left.

You closed the book on your lap. You really did have the intention of reading when you first head out to the deck, having some time to kill, but then... you noticed Sanji. At first you thought you'd go sit with him for a while, flirt and banter a little as you always do, but you found yourself absorbed in taking him in instead. He was different when he was alone. The way he looked so focused, so deep in thought when it was just him and the sea. Maybe even a little sad. So different from his usual sunny exterior that he put on when he was with people. Falling in to deep thoughts wondering what he might be thinking about – maybe about you? - you sat and stared, not reading as much as a word.

The book discarded, you felt a spring in your step as you made your way to the ship's chef.

The creaking floorboards alerted your arrival. Sanji turned to see who was creeping up on him, and when he saw you, he set his fishing rod aside as a wide smile grew on his lips, his dimples deepening and making your heart miss a beat. “There's my favourite girl. Come here, let me hear all about your day.” Sanji held his arms open, beckoning you to come sit on his lap.

The flirting was nothing new. When you first joined the Strawhats, Sanji was as flirty to you as he was to any other woman; he did not expect to meet his match in you. You were quick to play along, always one-upping him, dancing along the line that separated playfulness and seriousness, never quite picking a side.

The problem was, in reality, you had chosen a side long ago.

You would flirt and giggle and make him blush but never actually act upon anything. Neither would Sanji. He, however, took your playing along as though it was a battle to be won. Sanji would flirt, you'd reply with something raunchy, he would surprise you with something heartfelt. It was as though he knew exactly where to hit in order to get you a little closer to buckling, every time. As time went on he had become so devoted to your back and forth that you noticed he had gradually abandoned all other efforts flirting with other women, to focus entirely on you.

You had to remind yourself that this was a game to him. An instinct, almost. It hurt to think of your relationship that way, but you had to keep that thought at the forefront of your mind if you didn't want to fall even harder for him.

So you would continue to play along, even if that's all that you could have with him.

You chose not to indulge him completely – that was too dangerous for you – and so you opted to bend a knee over the armrest of his chair. Close, but no contact. “Come on, Sanji,” you bent your head in what felt like a bashful manner and said, “you know I spent all day thinking of you.”

You weren't sure if he was blushing or if that was just your wishful thinking. Composing himself, Sanji wrapped an arm around you to hold your waist, lightly tracing circles on your hip. “I beg of you, darling – next time, come find me instead of just thinking of me. I'll make it worth your while.”

You wanted to ask, how will you make it worth my while? Just to hear Sanji go in to detail of what you've been fantasizing about for months. But instead, you opted for a tamer response. “I came to tell you we're docking soon. Maybe I'll find you then and you could make it worth my while with a drink.”

Without missing a beat, Sanji took hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. “There's nothing I'd enjoy more.” With that, he kissed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

Docking started out normal. Everyone knew what their usual chores were when you reached a town, restocking and fixing so that the ship would be in top condition for its next leg of the journey in your search for the One Piece. So while Sanji went in to town to restock on groceries (you didn't pay much attention to the others), you, Nami and Usopp stayed around the ship to fix up some of the damage it took when you last encountered a rival pirate ship. That also happened to be the reason it was just you three when the same rival pirates noticed your ship docked, ready to take their revenge.

The three of you had your individual talents, but you just weren't enough to hold up against an entire rival crew. They had attacked so suddenly and so fiercely – it didn't take long before you were on the sand, fighting to stay conscious. You lost that fight as you watched Usopp try his best to fight off three attackers at once.

You really thought that would be the end for you. You should have known better; it was Sanji's voice you heard as you regained consciousness, motivating you to open your eyes despite the pain that flooded your body.

The beach area all around you was covered with pirates who were taken down, just like you – only that they were your enemies. You first noticed Nami's orange hair – she seemed to be taking care of a bleeding Usopp, his condition worse than yours. Following Sanji's voice, you found him holding the last one of the rival crew by his shirt, throwing punches like you've never seen him before. It took you aback – thinking about it, you had never seen Sanji use his hands in combat. Too precious – need them for cooking, he'd once told you before adding, the only thing more precious to me is you. It had made you blush at the time before you had laughed him off. Now, you were questioning if it was a joke at all.

The man Sanji was holding wasn't putting up a fight – he was far too battered for that, but Sanji didn't stop. He was too far away for you to understand what he was saying to the guy, but focusing hard, you could just about make out half sentences – "to hit a woman" – "don't deserve to breath" – "finish you" – you searched for the strength to get up and stop him. You had never seen Sanji – your happy, cheerful Sanji – so angry, feral even. It scared you a little; but mostly, you knew Sanji would regret it if he were to kill a man who no longer posed a threat. So you grasped at the sand, forcing your aching bones to pick yourself up. But as you were regaining your balance, Sanji finally threw the man to the sand, a look of disgust painting his handsome features. "Finally made a date with her and you ruined it... You hurt her. You're lucky I don't kill you." The man groaned in pain.

In a sharp change, his features went from anger to concern as he finally left the man and turned to where he last saw you laying. His eyes were full of honest pain, until he saw you on your feet – then they read of hope. "Y/n!" Sanji called, rushing to you as he could see your struggle to stand upright. "You- I-" he scanned your body as he reached you, taking in all visible injuries. "Are you – are you okay? Can I help you?" he reached an arm around your waist, waiting for your approval before he held on to help you stay up, so afraid he might hurt you.

"Thanks." his arm around you really helped you to stay up. It was a practical measure, sure, any one of your crew mates would do the same – but when you look up and meet Sanji's eyes, you know that the tense feeling between you two wouldn't have been replicated with anyone else. "I mean it. You saved us. We'd... I'd be lost without you." at that, Sanji smiled that deep-dimpled smile of his at you, the playfulness not reaching his still-concerned eyes.

"Y/n," he started. "are you really flirting with me, at a time like this?"

It was strange how despite all your injuries, you felt less and less of the pain the longer you leaned in to Sanji, close enough to smell his fragrance. A half-smile reached your lips. You couldn't play this game any longer. "Did you really beat that guy up that bad because he ruined what should have been our... date?"

Sanji tensed, obviously not ready to have this conversation now. His gaze dropped momentarily before he wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him. "I had a hundred reasons to kill him," Sanji said, and you felt disappointment bubbling through you until he continued, "but the most pressing reason is that he ruined our date."

Sanji took the opportunity to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and you couldn't help but smile so big you were embarrassed by it. "I really wanted that drink with you, away from the ship and everyone else. Just us."

You recomposed yourself. You needed clarity. "I'm not playing anymore, Sanji."

Sanji chuckled. "Fancy that. I was never playing at all."

You must have forgotten how to breath at all when he leaned down, his hand finding a rest on your neck as his thumb caressed your cheek. Nearly a whisper, he asked – "Can I kiss you?"

You leaning in served as the consent he searched for. After months of pining over each other, wondering what it would be like – his lips met yours, in a mixture of softness and passion like you'd never felt before. Forgetting you were injured at all you sneaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in, almost afraid of letting this anticipated moment of passion go. Sanji was more than happy to pull closer, a hand on your lower back holding you impossibly close to him.

The moment did, however, find its end as you heard your Captain whoop and holler from afar. "Yeah! Way to go, Sanji! About damn time!"

Breaking the kiss, Sanji nodded at Luffy, his smile lines prominent as he looked the proudest you'd ever seen him.

The crew was more than happy to make a quick exit that night, preferring to not stay around until the rival crew regained their strength. You were helping Nami untie the ropes anchoring the ship to the dock when she said, "I really thought he was going to kill him earlier." you didn't know how to respond. "I've never seen Sanji like that." Nami managed to untie a knot, and Zoro began pulling the rope up on to the ship. "He's really got it bad for you."

Despite that questionable context, you couldn't help but smile. In a burst of honesty you confessed; "I hope so, because I've got it real bad for him, too."

On cue, the ship's chef leaned over the ships railing, looking down to you. "Y/n, my love!" he called, as though the rest of the crew wasn't surrounding the both of you. "I hope you're finished down there, because I've got a candlelit dinner waiting for you up here. And drinks. You know, to make it worth your while," he finished with a wink.

From behind Sanji you could hear Luffy ask, "What about our dinner? Just because you're lovers now doesn't mean we don't need to eat..."

Sanji sighed and turned away from you, probably to go protect your dinner before Luffy demolished it.

"Right then, let's go," Nami said as you finished untying the last rope. "While there's still food to eat."

And for the first time, you boarded your ship not to find the One Piece or the All Blue – you were just happy to be there, with the man you loved.

[pseudowho]

Defending Your Honour

A series in which the JJK guys stick-it to the creeps and perverts bothering the reader.

A multi-fic in a series ❤️🫖☕

Part Two (Takuma Ino, Higuruma Hiromi and Itadori Yuuji)

Part Three (Gojo Satoru, Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara, Inumaki Together and Fushiguro Toji)

More JJK men and women to come

Trigger Warning: train gropers, flashers and unwanted sexual advances

Nanami Kento

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Quick, Kento! We'll miss the train."

"This one's packed. We'll get the next one."

"Come on! We can make it!"

With a squeeze and a groan, you and Kento squash yourselves into the packed carriage, the air a humid perfume-deodorant-sweat miasma. You faced Kento's chest, his back to the door. As the doors closed, squashing you to his chest, you shoot him a playful smirk as he glowers down at you, only half-serious.

You lean up to give him a sweet peck on the lips as the train jolts to a start. Kento wraps an arm around your waist as you wobble, although barely, your movement corseted by the tight pack of people around you.

The train rattles through tunnels, dipping in and out of orange lights. As the train goes through a particularly dark tunnel, you feel a set of fingers inching between your legs to the inside of your thigh. You cringe, clamping your legs together, which doesn't dissuade the hand from climbing up the back of your thigh, lifting your skirt to rub the cleft of your bottom.

When light flashes back into the train, the hand doesn't stop. You're paralysed, eyes stinging with tears, constricted by the crowd around you and unable to move to stop your assailant even if you wanted to.

Kento is looking down at you, frowning, concerned; what's wrong? His eyes ask you.

You whisper, voice shaking, "A hand-- someone's hand-- touching me--"

Kento blinks once, and his face clouds, deep rage settling in the crinkles and lines as his narrow eyes scan the people behind you. Within moments, his eyes settle on someone behind you, his eyes narrowing further until they're snakelike. You feel Kento's hand leave your waist as both arms wrap behind you, waiting.

A minute later, your train pulls to the next platform, and Kento pulls you off. Behind you on the train, a circle has formed around a man on the floor, crying and screeching, cradling two badly broken hands, bloody, twisted and ruined.

You hiss at Kento as you're pulled away up the stairs, "What did you do?"

Kento scowled, "I've got strong hands, he had wandering hands. Had."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Todo Aoi

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"God, it's so busy. I don't think we'll make it to our table in time," you stressed, Aoi head-and-shoulders above you as he tried to see a path through the crowd. Halloween in Shibuya was always heaving, and throngs of costumed celebrants slid past each other like eels.

Aoi looked behind him to you, breaking into what he assumed was a charming smile, and you rolled your eyes at him as he squatted down, his hands out behind him like steps.

"Get on my back, babe. You'll get lost, I'll get us to the restaurant-- win win."

"Me getting lost is...a win?" Aoi blinked, gears grinding as he reconsidered his words. Smiling (charmingly, again) and opening his mouth to talk (again), you raised a hand to stop him, exasperated.

"I can keep up. It's fine. Let's go."

"That's my girl." Aoi grabbed your hand as you weaved together through the crowds. You found it harder and harder to keep up, body buffeted from side to side by faceless monsters, vampires, sexy cats, and you felt Aoi's hand slipping in yours, holding tightly to his knuckles, now fingertip to fingertip until--

With a pluck, his hand slipped out of yours. You tripped, stumbling, unable to see above the sea of heads, and you slipped sideways into an alleyway to get out of the thronging masses. Breathing in a sigh of relief, you turned your back to the street, knowing Aoi would turn back to find you.

Your breath caught in your throat when, on turning, you come within two arms-length of a middle-aged man, in a heavy coat...completely exposed, as he stared at you, thrilled and smug. You gulped, flushed, bizarrely exposed and humiliated and trapped, as if you had your genitals flung out for the world to see, and you opened your mouth to scream for hel--

"Oh, man. Is that all you're working with? You're no brother of mine." The flasher grimaced, scowling for a moment as his eyes fixed behind you, and he took a single step backwards before--

*CLAP*

-- the crowd in the street behind you quietened for just a moment, enough to hear the sounds of a single rattling empty beer can, spinning in the flasher's place...before a cacophony of screams, laughter and appalled shouts poured into the alleyway. You gaped like a fish as Aoi pulled you gently to him.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry I lost you."

"I"m-- I'm fine-- did you just use your technique on that guy?"

You heard a ruckus at the mouth of the alleyway, watching your flasher's legs skittering as he was bodily dragged away by Police officers, arguing and bargaining.

Aoi grinned rakishly, thumb and forefinger framing his jaw, "Did you like that? Nobody flashes my girl but me."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Geto Suguru

"Keep our table! I'll get us some drinks. You want...?"

Suguru rested a single bent finger against his temple, narrow eyes looking you up and down fondly; "You know what I like."

You skipped away through the buzzing bar, blowing Suguru a kiss as you went; most of the patrons were two or three drinks deep already, and you pushed through a hen-do, apologising loudly to get to the bar.

You stood at the bar, tapping your fingers as you waited to catch the bartender's eye, and you felt a big hand slip around your waist from behind. You turned, grinning, leaning in for a kiss--

"Oh! God, sorry," you cried as the beer-breathed stranger laughed as if he knew you, and you cringed as he leaned back into you.

"No harm done baby, thought I was gonna get lucky there," he shouted over the music, flecks of spit peppering your face and lips.

"Nope! Not tonight I'm afraid--" as you moved to pull away, his hand tightened around your waist, skimming down to cup your hip, pulling you closer, squeezing--

"-- look, can you get your hands off--"

The stranger raised his hands off you dramatically, waving them in your face, barely concealing aggression behind an easygoing facade; "Just trying to have a good night like everyone else here, sweetheart, so you could just loosen up--"

You turned your back, flushing with confrontation, almost tearful as you tried to attract the attention of the bartender. You felt hot breath on your neck, the same unfamiliar hand on the small of your back--

"So you got a boyfriend, then?" You swallowed hard, closing your eyes for a moment, desperate to be left alone.

"She has," Suguru crooned, voice mercurially smooth as he slowly took the stranger's hand off your back, his eyes black, flat and cold. You had never been happier to see him in your life, and you pressed yourself against him, back still to the stranger. The stranger's lips rolled inwards, an irritated tongue dabbing out to lick them.

"Sorry bud, didn't realise she was here with anyone--"

"-- but scum like you always respect an absent boyfriend more than a girl telling you no, right?" Suguru's voice could have frozen water. The stranger excused himself without another word.

"Come on," Suguru gently urged, "I don't like this bar anymore. Let's go somewhere else."

As he slipped an arm around you, walking towards the doors, you heard frantic shrieking behind you; the stranger writhed and squirmed on the floor, frantically undoing and shoving his trousers down, kicking and shouting in alarm.

Suguru smirked; "Had that weird little snake curse in my pocket for a while now. Even better, he can't see it."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Will do some more of these; always more Nanamin, but also the other JJK crew too!

Part Two (Higuruma, Ino and Yuuji) LINK HERE!

[you-will-return]

~

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Matching - Portgas D. Ace

Find more of my work here: Tumblr MasterList

This is a little idea I had for a larger Ace fanfic I'm working on. I might revise this! Please let me know if he's in character or not...I'm starting to have my doubts.

It had been the better part of a week. No, maybe a whole week at this point. While before you’d spend most of your free time around him, now you were constantly “busy.” Heck sometimes he even finds it difficult to find you on the Moby Dick! Was this the end of the honeymoon phase everyone warned him about?

Were you starting to get tired of him?

You kept sneaking around...without him! Before you used to sneak around together! Worse still is…every time he pops up to see you, you always seem like you're hiding something. It's like quickly stashed papers, and tightly clenched fists. It’s the way you spin on your heel, and tense up, when you used to not do that at all.

What was maddening was how when the evenings would hit, or even at random parts of the day, you’d run and crash into him with a huge hug. You’d beam at him bright and genuine just upon seeing him, heck you’d be practically vibrating with joy as you’d squeeze the life out of him. He’d almost turned to fire once.

Maybe you weren’t tired of him?

When you did cuddle with him, your eyes seemed to linger on the tattoo on his arm. He’d even woken up to you tracing it with your finger once before. You’d looked sheepish that he’d caught you admiring it…actually you looked a little…panicked too…

You’d squirmed in his grasp when he asked you about it. Saying things like how it’s pretty, and how it’s a tattoo unique to him, so you were admiring it. You're pretty good at dodging his line of questioning whenever he voices his suspicions about your behavior. You were also incredibly sneaky about distracting him with your affections, and by the time he’s regained his original line of thought, you’d already be gone. 

There's something fishy in the air and it's not the sea king he caught the other day.

He only finds out what it is you'd been scheming behind his back when he gets back from a mission. He was so distracted for most of it. He couldn’t figure out why you were so clearly avoiding him sometimes…were you having second thoughts? What was going on? Was this an elaborate prank?

He was still in a daze as he made his way back to the Moby Dick. You used to bring peace, yet right now you’d thrown him into turmoil. He hated the way he was doubting you. He hated not knowing what was wrong.

“Hey look Ace’s back!”

“How’d it go champ?”

“Aaaaaaacee!” It was your voice that pulled him back completely.

He’d barely had a moment to look up than you’d thrown yourself on him with a hug. The force of it all almost send him toppling backwards. His hat had been knocked off his head, and he could feel the press of its medallion on his throat. He's relieved at how genuinely happy you are to see him, yet still an unease twists up his stomach in knots.

You pull away much too quickly, pulling his arms and rotating them, checking for any damage. The way you're checking up on him to make sure he's not hurt and that he's okay floods his entire system with warmth. Yet he can't help the constriction in his chest and the nagging as to what it was that had you sneaking around before he left if you missed him this badly?

He can hear the crew laughing at the obvious display of affection.

“Being bold there little missy,” they taunt you.

You shrink in on yourself a bit, embarrassment catching up to you. However when you take his hand in yours, and whistles and cheers break out, “I was doing it for Ace,” the timidity in the lines of your shoulders and face brings the heat to his own face, “I thought he might like it.”

He squeezes your hand in his. Yet his brain screams at him, then what was all that sneaking around about?

Unsure how to deal with things, he just studies you closely as you ask him about how things went and how the mission was. You're not up to anything really, or at least it doesn't seem like it. You're as attentive and engaged as ever, things are just as they used to be before.

You drag him to the kitchen, knowing he must be hungry as he usually is after a mission. You even sit with him in your little corner of the mess hall while he eats, something you hadn’t done much prior to his departure. He's talking to you about the guy with the interesting abilities that he'd fought with his mouth full, and you're indulging him.

Yet even as he tries to fall into your old pattern, the confusion only festers further. What had been going on with you?

He feels absolutely awful, doubting you with the way you’re listening to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. To be fair, to you, he really is. He keeps talking and chewing and answering your questions, yet the thing he really wants to talk about is bubbling just below the surface. Somehow all the tension and excitement peaks and he goes head first into his plate of food.

When he finally comes back to, there’s no food on his face, and he’s resting on his arms on the dinner table, his plate off to his side. You’re still next to him, gently brushing your fingers through his hair, patiently de-tangling any clumps you come across. He groans while sitting up and blinking the sleep away.

“You’re up,” you observe aloud, “here let me clear these out of the way for you.”

You get up from beside him, unthinkingly pulling your sleeves up your forearms, and reach for the plates around him. He notices something odd about one of your hands as you walk away with the stack of plates in your hands, but before he can say much you're already on your way to the kitchen counter. He watches you, lethargically shoving food in his mouth as you hand the dishes over to Thatch, who looks at your hands, then looks his way for a moment with an amused grin.

He could actually hear the next thing as the cook raised his voice, “nah leave those dishes to me, go hang out with your loverboy.”

Had the pirate not shoved you away with a plate of food in hand, Ace got the feeling you would have pointedly ignored Thatch’s teasing to do the dishes. You walked back, your brow and lips pursed in a kind of indignation. He couldn’t help the little huff of amusement. You’d gotten much better at handling their teasing over time, but he wouldn’t deny it was cute how it would get to you sometimes.

You took a seat beside him again, sliding the plate the cook had given you towards him. Your…well he could only hope he was still really your beloved, just stared at you in silence as he chewed. For some reason it made you squirm.

That’s it. He’d had enough. He has to figure this out. You’d said it yourself, it’s really important to communicate things! That’s how relationships last!

“You’ve been real weird lately,” was what came out as he grabbed the new plate of food, “you been avoiding me?”

His brow furrowed at the way your gaze immediately fell, taking your expression with it, and how you began to fidget with your fingers - a nervous - wait. Ace’s hand extended to grab your left one, bringing it up to his face.

There on your left wrist, right where your pulse sat, in black ink sat the letters ASCE, arranged horizontally and smaller, but a perfect replica of his own otherwise. Instinctively he rubbed his thumb across it, almost as though he was checking to make sure this wasn’t an illusion and that wasn’t just normal ink from a pen.

You were looking back at him, he could see it in the way your shoulders bunched near your ears, and the wobble of your lips, and how you couldn’t keep eye contact for too long, but kept glancing back at him…you were nervous. He absentmindedly began drawing circles on your wrist, just staring at you.

“I was avoiding you, I guess,” you admitted, “I was hoping to surprise you with that,” your free hand moved to play with the hem of your shirt, as you shrunk even more, “was it presumptuous of me? Should I have asked first?”

“For a second I thought I’d managed to chase you away,” he admitted quietly, looking back down at the mark of permanence you’d etched into your skin, “that you’d gotten sick of me.”

You snatched your hand away before he could think, moving in to embrace him, “get sick, of you? Then I’d be a tasteless heathen or…whatever, unworthy of you- totally - completely - absolutely unworthy of you!”

Your arms tighten around him, “I’m so sorry I put you through that love.”

“All that sneaking around was for this tattoo?” He couldn’t help the involuntary little crack in his voice. “You really did surprise me darlin’.”

He pulls away from you first and his hands find your wrists, and his eyes again fall onto the symbol, the symbol of him, lovingly tattooed into your skin. A mark to let people know just who put the ring on your finger. 

He didn’t look up from it, even when you spoke up again, “Ace,” he just traced circles over the mark that sat proudly in bold black letters, “I’m really sorry that I made you feel that way - wait does that sound? It’s not-no wait. It’s my fault!” He glanced up at you for a moment as you struggled to put what you wanted to say into words, working strenuously to apologize sincerely.

His lips wobbled upwards.

He couldn’t help it.

You’d gone out of your way, to tattoo his mark onto your body. He couldn’t help but stare at it as he continued to rub circles with his thumb. Not only that, you were straining yourself so much all because he voiced that damned insecurity of his.

“I didn’t mean to put you through that?” You tried again. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I didn’t want to hurt you.” You paused, and he felt you move closer. “I’m sorry if what I did hurt you-no-I’m sorry that I did hurt you.”

There was a pricking at the corners of eyes, as he finally took his eyes off your little gift to him to look at you. There was a kind of relief, or maybe it was appreciation? Maybe even a tinge of surprise? He was touched, that was one thing he knew for sure-if the fire that burned in his chest was any indication. He was a sick bastard for appreciating this, wasn’t he? Seeing you so genuinely apologetic - it was alarming really, did he really deserve this apology when he was doubting you? How could he ever hope to compete with this?

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, doll,” his voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he continued to rub circles into your wrists.

“No I do,” you insisted, “Ace, I’m happy you’re communicating how you felt to me,” you responded quietly, but firmly, “so don’t downplay how it felt when I was the one being sneaky.”

“You didn’t mean any harm though,” his lips pull into a gentle smile as he slowly brings your tattooed pulse up to brush his lips against it before flicking his gaze to meet yours, “you were here prepping this lovely gift for me and I was only thinking of myself.”

A smirk tugs at his lips at the way you have to shake yourself out of whatever spell he’d placed you under, “just because I didn’t mean any harm, doesn’t mean I didn’t do any harm,” you press on, shuddering a bit when he brushes another kiss to your pulse, “if you did the same, I’d probably have felt the same way too, you have nothing to feel bad about.”

“Forgive me for doubting you, cariña?”

He almost laughs at the affronted look you give him, firing back a, “forgive me for hurting you, love?”

“Nothing to forgive,” he’s smiling more now, “I’m glad you were being so sneaky, made this surprise all the better.”

“Don’t downplay your feelings Portgas D. Ace,” he could hear your frown, “your feelings are important to me, you’re important to me.”

“My full name cariña?” He couldn’t help but tease.

“Yes,” you answered immediately and he looked up to see how upset you looked - it was almost annoying - he’d rather not dwell, “I want you to get just how upset you were off your chest.”

That got a chuckle out of him, despite the irritation that was rising.

“I don’t want to think about it too much,” his smile fell for a moment, “I don’t want to ruin this happy moment with stupid emotions in the past.”

“But I don’t want them to fester-” 

“Mi amor,” he looked at you, almost pleading, “it’s true I felt like you were ignoring me, but seeing your little surprise makes me the happiest man on the five seas.”

Seems that was enough to quiet you. Though… “six, if you include the All Blue.”

When you chuckled at him, he felt his smile returning. He honestly couldn’t care less about the past. He’d said his piece, you’d talked it out, he didn’t care anymore.

“So, you know I love you right?” The timid way in which you asked was enough to knock the wind out of him.

Yet, he grinned, and brought your marked pulse up to lips again, “I love you too.”

“Oi get a room!” The two of you startled at the sudden shout coming from the other end of the mess hall. “Sure we can barely see you in your little corner, but the lovey-dovey energy in here is off the charts!”  

“Shut up Thatch!” Ace fired back. “You’re just mad you can’t gossip to Marco about it!”

“You’re the one blocking the show!”

“Good!”

“It’s real funny though,” there was a pause, “who’d have thought the wild Fire Fist was actually a huge pile of mush!”

With the newfound yelling, people started to file into the mess hall. Which was when he noticed it was mostly empty prior to that. Of course among the people who filed in was the aforementioned first division commander.

“You like your little surprise Ace?” He asked the younger man.

“Wait you knew?”

“Who else would she ask yoi?” The medic gave him a lazy grin before turning to you. “So, did you get to say what you wanted to say yoi?”

Ace studied you as you shook your head looking both disappointed and sheepish.

“What did you want to say?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You huffed, a sheepish smile wobbling your lips, as you moved to his left side, your right hand pushing his upper arm to show more of his tattoo.

"See,” you held up your own tattooed wrist next to his arm, “now we match."

Extra:

Ace later: “I’m gonna marry her.”

Marco (who is next to him): “aren’t you already married?”

[angldelight]

cherry wine / max x fem!merc!reader

summary, you were the love his life. everybody seemed to know it, whether it be the way he looked at you or the way he held you on the podium, they knew it to be true.

warnings, lyrics are used, reader is fem, age gap (reader is younger by 3 years). possessiveness. a very cute fluffy set of hdcs of all the times max has loved you in his life. yes, I can do happy fics! marriage. allusions to violence / bruised knuckles.

quick note! I got a comment saying that the song was about domestic violence, to which I was very much so unaware of. Alas, I won’t be changing it as I used the lyrics different to the meaning that the song has. If this happens to be troublesome or bothers you then I recommend blocking me as I use songs for the fact I like the songs - not for their meanings.

he loved you in January, when he kissed you underneath the fireworks at lando’s party.

he loved you when you pushed him into his driver’s room away from the cameras so you could feel his skin on your own.

he loved you in February when you’d have a glossy look in your eyes when you spoke about the new car.

he loved you when he’d hold you to his chest, as you cried because you missed winning so badly.

he loved you when you’d cry at the way he punched that one interviewer in March.

oh mama, don’t fuss over me. the way you’d kiss his bruised knuckles, he loved you.

he loved you in April as you danced under the burning sun, a new win in the record books for you.

it’s a crime that she’s not around most of the time. he had told his teammate, checo. he’d shake his head and slap his teammate on the shoulder. young and in love, he’d call max.

his loved blossomed into something more in May, the way stress would drag you down, eyes blooming into fear struck orbs when you had a crash.

he still remember’s screaming at his team over the radio as they only shook their heads. he loved you then.

he was a fool for you in June, walking to your home to give you fresh flowers. his eyes full of love.

he still remembers the way you kissed him so sweetly, mouth against his own.

in July, he seemed to hold you against him all the time, he kissed you on the sea.

you spent time with him on his yacht, you made love under the burning hot sun, you kissed in the cold sea.

he seemed to wander for you in August, his season not as easy as the last — you struggled to find the words to make him feel better. he told you not to fuss over him.

in September you claimed manier race wins, one you needed, one you loved, one you wanted. he loved the way you laughed under the sun.

in October he loved the way you mewled under him, body sweating and panting, the way you shivered with him as it rained every now and then.

in November he asked you to marry him. you told him he was a fool and he smiled when you said yes.

in December you pushed him under the table at a party, your lips on his was like fireworks. they called you his younger love, he kissed the tears away as they tried to make you feel shame.

he loved you then, he loved you now.

[anemptypuddingcup]

In need of you!

Puppy Luffy x Female Reader.

Smut short.

Contains: Puppy Luffy! Luffy experiencing his rut. Luffy’s being chained up for obvious reasons (homies dangerous when he’s needy). Reader finally agreeing to let him free and help him. Luffy ripping Reader’s clothes. Knotting and impregation. Luffy impregnating Reader even though she doesn’t want it at the time. Sweet cuddles and aftercare.

Luffy lied there within his wrists tight within his sea-stoned cuffs, a groan leaving him as you struggled to sit up straight. He missed you, the very woman who had got a hold on him to begin with, the woman who always took good care of him. At this point it was all he could think about, just you and him together holding each other so tight that you’d get so hot and warm in each other’s embrace.

It was hard for him to just sit there and wait for you to come back to him, to call his name in such a sweet sing-song voice while you’d free him from his cuffs. God, he just needed you no- he wanted you. He wanted you to be in his embrace, to hold on to him like there’s no tomorrow or there’s no one else in the world but him. If only you’d just let him out of his cuffs, he’d show you how much of his heart he’d give to you.

His tail had wagged vigorously at the thought and alongside that his cock was starting to grow hard and painfully needy for you. “Baby! Babyyyyyy!” Whimpers left his lips as he began to struggle around in his restraints, the little bell on his collar jingling as he whines and yells out in painful pleasure. He couldn’t help it, he disliked being chained up especially during his rut.

Regardless if he understood or not, he wasn’t necessarily worried about the situation or the fact that he could hurt you badly without thinking.

All he wanted was to be with you and to feel your arms wrapped around his body while you mewled out beneath him.

As he lied there drooling and blushing at his own arousing thoughts, he hears your light and sweet footsteps trailing down to the room that he was in. He immediately perks up and is already pulling at his chains and cuffs, eager to see you and your cute little frame enter the room with a loving smile on your face.

It was as if a puppy was waiting for his owner to come back home. His adoring girlfriend who just wanted to keep both him and herself safe.

“Luffy baby?”

The sound of your voice causes him to freeze and he smiles widely before panting and pulling at the his restraints once again. You slowly peek your head into the doorframe and he smiles happily while his tail wagged even more at the sight of you. “Luffy! How’s my baby feeling?” You asked with delight, your body slipping past the doorway and walking into the room where Luffy sat. “Baby! Babybabybaby!” Luffy yelps happily, his hands reaching out to you before the chains restricted his movements.

“Luffyy…” You sighed out, wanting to go to him and fall into his embrace but can’t. You give him a saddened expression while he sat there with his derpy little expression, his little ears twitching as he sat there panting and staring at you and your body.

Luffy tried to reach out to you again only for his moves to be restricted once again, making him whine out in irritation. Luffy gives you his little puppy eyes before he scooted closer, a larger frame sitting there while it shivered with uncontrolled excitement.

“Baby! Need you! Want you!” Luffy says, his arms reaching out to you while a whimper slowly fell past his lips. You sigh out shakily as you stared at him, hesitating to even get closer to him. You were afraid of what he would do to you if you’d let him loose, but even so you were sure that Luffy couldn’t possibly be that rough on you.

“I need you too Luffy…” You say quietly, your body getting down into its knees before you sat down onto the floor. Luffy lunges at you but is still unable to reach you, his sudden movements causing you to jolt and move back from him.

You were afraid…but you just didn’t want to admit that. Luffy wasn’t that stupid though.

Luffy sat still and tilted his head to you before moving around and studying your body language, a huff leaving past his lips as he realized that you were startled by his movements. “Scared?” He asked you, a pout falling onto his face as his tail slides up under his thigh.

“I’m sorry…Luffy.”

You huff out in response and nodded to him, your hands holding your knees tightly up against your chest while you felt tears brewing in your eyes. Luffy smiled before panting, his body scooting closer to you before he held his arms out to you. “M’fine baby. M’not gonna hurt ya…I promise I won’t.” He says to you, a little whine falling after as he finally showed signs of him struggling to keep himself together due to his rut.

“Baby…” You sighed, a little chuckle falling after as you laughed at him and his little stubbornness. Luffy groans out shakily and sighs out before giving up, his body laying out into his back as he groans out in pained arousal. “Mmgh~ W-Want you…S’badly…J-Just wanna feel ya…” Luffy whines out, a huff leaving his lips as he turns over onto his side and begins curling up.

You sighed and reach out to him before pressing your hand against his thigh, making him shudder and whimper shakily. You crawl over to him and sigh out shakily before sliding up into his larger frame, his head raising as he watched you straddle him. You reach around the back pocket of you jeans and pull out the key before showing him.

“Give me your wrists Luffy…” You say, watching as he perks up before giving you his wrists. You put the key into the keyhole and turn it, unlocking the the cuffs and watching as the fell onto the ground. Luffy’s hands immediately gripped your hips tightly and he growls out before smashing his lips against yours. You gasp out loudly into his lips as he clawed at your sides, his hands spreading you out on the floor while he growls out to you.

His hands pulled at you shirt before he tears it, a gasp leaving you as you watched him rip your shirt off of you. His eyes stared down at your breasts before he smiles and laps at the soft mounds sloppily, slobbing all over them while his hands tugs at your joggers. He yanks them down as he heard your sweet mewls, your back arching as you enjoyed the feeling of his tongue against your sensitive buds.

As he continues to grope and bite at your breasts, he pulls his briefs down and lifts his head up to you before smiling and panting all needily. You shuddered and watch as he slaps his cock against your clothed pussy, a little whimper leaving him as he missed that heat of yours he adored against his. He grinds his hard and sticky cock along your clothed cunt, his pre already drenching the fabric of your panties alongside your slit.

He huffs out as he loops his fingers beneath your panties before tearing off of you, the sound of the fabric making your cunt clench tightly. He grabs your hips and lifts them up to his, the tip of his cock kissing your entrance and making you bite your bottom lip. “G-Gentle Luffy…P-Please…” You begged to him, pressing your hand against his chest while he lowers himself closer to you.

He nuzzles his nose against yours and smiles before trailing down to your neck, his nose nuzzling against the skin of your neck and collarbone and inhaling your sweet and wonderful scent. As he distracts you, he shove his cock deep into your pussy making you throw your head back before you gasp out in pain.

He thrusted into you without much of a warning, causing you to yell out and wince in pain a little whimper spilling out of your lips a bit after. Luffy sighs out in relief as he felt your walls all warm and snug around his cock. He didn’t even give you time to adjust, his thrusts already hard and rough against your hips while his cock smushed up a deep smooch against your cervix.

His hands gripped your thighs and he shoved them up far past your chest, your ankles practically before your ears at this point. “Luffy~ L-Lu…ffy~” You gasped out, struggle to even speak or breathe with how hard and fast Luffy was thrusting into you. Luffy stared down at you with puppy eyes as he painted heavily with each thrust against your hips, his eyes crossing from the pleasure of your pussy sucking him in and nestling his cock deep inside.

“So good~ Baby’s pussy is…so fuckin’ good~” Luffy groans, his knees digging deep into the carpet as his hip’s repeatedly fuck and slammed into yours. “God Luffy!~ S-Slow down!~” You whimper out, throwing your head back while your toes curled tight from the pleasure. Luffy wraps his arms tight around you, his arms slithering around your body while he pants and pulls his cock out of you suddenly.

You inhale deeply and breathe heavily before lifting your head up weakly to him. He was smiling all sweetly to you, which obviously meant that he was hiding something from you or was planning to do something. You struggle to sit up and sigh out before looking up into his puppy eyes. “Luffy…what’re you doing?” You asked him, quirking a brow to him while he stared down at you.

A little bit of steam before to come off of his body and it gains a bit of a pink hue which alerts you. Your eyes widens and you struggled in his arms. “Luffy! Luffy no! No! Don’t use gear second Luffy!” You said, demanding for him to not use gear second.

Sadly your words fell onto deaf ears as he begins thrusting back into you.

His thrusts grew rampant and exceptionally fast as he fucks your pussy, heavy whines leaving your lips as his cock repeatedly kissed your cervix. Luffy wasn’t even worried about your pleasure at this point with the rut clouding his mind. The only thing he really wanted to do was breed you and get you full of his cute little pups. Just the thought of your tummy swollen with his babies and your breasts full with milk made him pound into you faster.

You eyes rolled up while he fucked you, fucking you so deep to the point where you felt him kissing past your cervix. Your moans grew loud and desperate as while Luffy drooled out onto your skin, his tongue sliding along the skin of your neck and lapping at your skin while he fucked your pussy into oblivion. You couldn’t make out any words to him, only moans and mewls while he fucked your pussy.

You could feel your core tightening and it felt rather painful with how fast and hard Luffy was going. “Luffy!~ Fuck! L-Luffy!~” You gasped out his name, his collar jiggling with every thrust he gave you. His and your body had grew sticky from sweat, drool and pre. You arch your back within his arms and moan out loudly before squirting out onto his cock, your pussy gushing around his length while you inhale deeply from the pleasure of your sudden orgasm.

Luffy growls out as he felt your pussy tighten more around his length, his cock and lower abdomen growing more sticky as his thrusts grew faster and yet so much harder. You continued to moan to him in overstimulation, whining as you struggled to stay composed due to Luffy. “L-Luuuu~ Luffy~” You moaned out to him, whining and trying to beg for him to stop or at least slow down.

Luffy’s brows furled tightly as he begins to growl and groan out, his cock beginning to twitch inside of your pussy as he felt his knot growing close to release out in your pussy. “M’gonna breed ya~ Gonna breed ya pussy~” Luffy said shakily, his body moving in closer to yours as he felt that pussy of your suck him in even deeper inside. You couldn’t respond back to him, only gasp out and cry to him while he fucked your pussy senseless and sore.

His hands held on tight and clawed at your hips as he grew ready to release, his hands pulling one of your legs down while his legs folded over your hip. “Gonna knot yaaa~ Fuck M’so closeeee~” He gasps out, a whimper slowly filling after. “Luffy~ D-Don’t knot m-meee~ N-Not yet~” You whined out to him shakily, unable to fight back against him.

Luffy smiles softly and laps at your cheek before panting and huffing out to you. “W-Wanna~ Gonna~ M’gonnaaaa~” He groans out, a few gasps repeatedly leaving his lips before he freezes. “Luffy~ N-No- L-Luffy!~” You moan out shakily as you drool out onto the floor, your eyes rolling up as you felt him beginning to cum deep inside of your pussy.

He groans out loudly and his eyes rolls up to the back of his skull as he cums deep inside of your pussy, knotting deep inside of you and leaving you unable to move or pull away from him. He freezes and breathes heavily against you, whimpering out before pressing and sloppy and deep smooch against your lips. You mewled out and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you while he hums out lovingly.

His arms has pull your body up and into his embrace, holding you all sweet and snug while you rested your head against his scarred chest. His hands rubbed at your bare back, soothing you while you mewl out softly at the sensation of his rough hands against your softer skin.

“M’sorry…” He apologize, a whimper falling past his lips as he pouted to you while his ears had drooped down. You chuckles lightly and smiled before looking up at him your hands cupping his face and pulling his lips against yours. You smooch his lips lightly and sigh out before scratching at his raven curls. “It’s okay Luffy, I guess I’m gonna be a momma sooner then later.” You giggled, your laugh making a smile creep across his face.

He laps at your cheek before wrapping his arms around you tightly, hugging you and keeping you close against his body. “I love ya~ I love ya s’much~” He hums out, smooching and nibbling at your cheek. You smiled to him and hold him tightly before relaxing against him, a yawn spilling past your lips as you sleep starting washing over you body.

“I love you too baby~”

[animationmovieshipps]

Drunk Confessions (Opla Luffy X Reader)

"Hey, sweetie, can you get us another bottle?" Sanji asked, before spontaneously laughing again.

"Why me?" You asked pointing to yourself, even though you already knew the answer of that question.

"Because you're probably the only one here who can get to the kitchen without getting lost on the way." Usopp replied, before lowering his glasses and looking directly at Zoro, who gave him the middle finger after taking another sip from the cup.

They couldn't blame you for not wanting to drink so much that you weren't sober anymore, the last time it happened they said that when they took their eye off you for a second, a stranger almost took you away. They said that Luffy beat the man so badly that he had to be hospitalized.

Besides, you didn't like being hungover the next day.

"Okay, I go." You laughed and got up to go to the kitchen, but stopped suddenly when you felt one of them grab your hand.

You turned around and didn't know what to say when you saw it was Luffy. He didn't usually drink, but that night he decided to do something different.

"Don't stay there too long, okay? Or I'm going to miss you a lot." He said. "Do you promise you won't be long?"

You couldn't help but smile, he was even cuter when he was drunk, if that was possible.

"Okay, I promise I won't be long." You said, only after that he let go of your hand and let you go.

You went to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and returned to them, who welcomed you with a round of applause.

You smiled and shook your head, placing the bottle on the table before sitting back in your seat. As soon as you did, Luffy rested his head on your shoulder.

"Hey, I think I want to go to sleep now." He said. "Can you take me to the room, p-p-p...?"

You chuckled, seeing that he couldn't say 'please'.

"Please?" You said.

"That's it, that was the word."

"What a polite young man." You joked, taking his hand and lifting him from the chair.

"Try not to throw him into the sea." Zoro shouted, as you threw him over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him away to the room. Your daily workout with him was good for something.

With the greatest care in the world, you placed him on the bed and took off his shoes, briefly tickling his feet so you could hear his lovely laugh one more time.

"Wait, w-where's my hat?" He asked, when he ran his hand over his head and saw that the hat wasn't there.

"It's right next to you, don't worry." You assured him.

He reached to the side and felt for the bed, sighing in relief when he touched the hat and felt its familiar texture.

"Oh. It's here." He laughed.

You smiled, looking at him tenderly. If he only knew how you felt.

"Well, sleep well, captain..."

"No! Don't leave now!" He asked desperately when he saw you getting up of his bed.

You were confused as to what else he wanted with you, but you sat on the edge of the bed again.

"What is it now?" You asked.

Luffy made an effort and sat down on the bed again, although his head seemed to be spinning.

"I have to tell you something very important." He said in a serious tone of voice.

"You know you can tell me anything." You assured him.

"I just wanted to say that I love you." He said, leaving you surprised to say the least. You knew he loved dearly everyone on the crew, but he never said with words. "And it's not that little, I love you that much." He gestured to explain what he was saying.

"... That's great, I love you too..." You said back.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..."

"Have you said all the 'no's' you had?" You joked, interrupting him.

"Almost, no, no, no." He continued. "I don't love you like that, I LOVE you, I want to marry you and be the father of your children."

You were surprised again, until that moment you thought he only saw you as an older sister, like he also saw Nami.

You had no idea if he was telling the truth or just messing with you, but you knew that people when under the influence of alcohol said whatever came to mind.

You decided to talk to him about it the next day, when he was sober again.

You got up to leave the room for good, but before you did, he grabbed your hand again, this time he pulled you sharply and you fell on top of him.

You no longer had a chance to escape when your eyes met his, you found yourself lost in the light of his gaze.

Somehow, you had to get out of there, or you were going to do something you would regret. You would never take advantage of him, but you also didn't trust that you wouldn't give in to temptation.

"Don't go away..." He murmured in pleading, sliding the tip of his nose along your cheek.

Him not kissing you when your lips were so close to each other made you even more distressed than if he had already kissed you.

"Stop it, come on, we can't do this with you looking like this." You tried to argue, trying to get away from him, but you couldn't. Your reason was constantly fighting against your emotion at that moment.

He ignored you, this time trailing a path of kisses to your lips and finally kissed you.

You were strong, refusing to move your lips. But you couldn't hold it for much more time, you had wanted to kiss him for so long.

The next thing you knew, you were sitting on his lap, looking like you were going to suck his soul through his mouth while your hands roamed his body under his shirt.

His lips felt so soft against yours, when the kiss deepened you surprisingly felt a sweet taste, when you thought it would taste like rum.

Not long after, when you felt his hands undo the buttons on the back of your shirt, you came to your senses again and got off him.

"No, no, I can't let that happen, I would never forgive myself." You said between heavy breaths, still feeling the adrenaline and your body burning up.

"Awww just when things were getting better." Luffy lamented pouting. "Come on..."

"No, I'm not going to do anything while you're drunk." You insisted firmly, bringing your hands to your back and buttoning the buttons on your shirt again. "Now go to sleep, wasn't it what you wanted?"

"As you wish then." He reluctantly agreed, regretting drinking that night. "Can you at least sleep here with me tonight?"

You considered that idea, but soon imagined it was an excuse for him to try to seduce you again.

"... You're not going to try anything again, are you?" You asked.

"No, I just don't want to be away from you." He replied, before laying down on the bed again.

You smiled. That was sweet, but you still weren't completely sure of his intentions.

"You promise?"

"Fine, I promise." He said.

You took a deep breath and lay down next to him, deciding to trust his word. Luffy quickly wrapped his arms around you and threw one of his legs over your body.

As much as it seemed, you didn't feel uncomfortable, his entire body was soft.

You hugged him back and fell asleep at the same time as him, with a happy smile on your lips.

As soon as he opened his eyes, he had to close them again, when the sunlight that came through the bedroom window seemed to intensify the headache he was feeling even more.

He remembered almost nothing from the night before, just that he drank a lot and you had slept next to him.

"Is it a hangover?" Zoro asked, hearing the captain's grunts of pain.

"What do you think?" Luffy retorted.

"Over time you get used to it." Usopp laughed.

"Good morning." You hummed as you entered the room, a mug of hot coffee in your hands.

"Zoro, do you remember that thing you wanted to show me?" Usopp asked, obviously an excuse so Luffy and you could talk alone.

Zoro didn't remember anything of what he was saying, but he left the room with the shooter anyway.

"What is that?" He asked when he noticed the cup in your hands.

"It's for you." You replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing him the mug.

He usually preferred milk, but since you brought him that coffee, he wasn't going to deny it.

You couldn't help but laugh when you saw him grimace as he took a sip of the drink.

"Why is this without sugar?" Luffy asked.

"Good coffee to cure a hangover is without sugar." You answered. "Now drink it all to make yourself feel better."

He took another sip, trying his best to avoid tasting it.

Seeing that this was the opportunity to talk to him about what happened the night before, you didn't hesitate.

"Hey, last night..."

"What happened last night?" He asked, interrupting you. "Did I do something stupid to you while I was drunk?"

"Luffy..."

"If that's what happened, my bad, I'm still not very used to it and..."

"Luffy!" You said, briefly covering his mouth with your hand. "You said you loved me and wanted to marry me."

His expression changed suddenly when you said that, not believing that after so long keeping what he felt for you to himself, he slipped up.

"Look, I have a very good explanation for this, let me just..." He tried to explain himself and failed miserably.

You just laughed and leaned over, giving him a kiss on the cheek that made him shut up.

"You don't need to say anything." You said, intertwining your hand with his. "I love you too."

Luffy looked at your interwined hands and then looked at you again, smiling as he assimilated what you said.

He didn't need to say a word, the look in his eyes was worth a thousand words.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Immortal (Ghost x Medic!Reader Pt. 3)

"The path to paradise begins in hell."

— Dante Alighieri

Word count: 5.5 k

Summary: He knows now why he always returns to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased. What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead? (Last part of Ghost stories.)

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff, smut. Protective!Simon Ghost Riley. Graphic depictions of PTSD, suicidal thoughts and depression, mild violence. Emotional sex, love confessions, happy ending. Ghost POV.

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

No one has ever scolded him.

He's the one who whips people into shape, who makes them recall who and where they are, that Task Force 141 is no place for fuckery. Now he's the one being reminded of his place. 

Somehow it's ok to bring her flowers before dinner, but ever since he started to bring her coffee to get an excuse to see her at work, she began to shut down. He can fuck her doggy style at her place, but if he so much as lifts his mask to kiss the back of her neck at her office, she bats him away like an annoying fly.

And he's fucking confused.

He thought he was doing the right thing. He thought that women like to be courted. Now he's standing in the middle of her apartment, waiting for… he doesn't even know what. Pardon, perhaps.

"Why do you always call me lieutenant?"

"Well I can't call you Simon at work, can I?"

She's chaste and decent. Has been like that for a while now, retreating back to her role of a distant professional. 

Something's troubling her, and he tries to get to the bottom of it. Tries his best to cheer her up, even if it's absurd that someone like him attempts to do that.

"Y'could use the alias."

"I'm not going to call you that."

She reads Virgil while making it clear that he's quite ridiculous. A ghost. It must remind her of a children's book rather than something stealthy and fatal; to her, it's a grown man's sad attempt to play a superhero.

"Did you come up with the name yourself?" Her voice has a whiff of irony as she finally spares him a glance from her hard-cover poetry.

"...No," he lies, too soon. Far too soon. She catches him on it, pants down.

"You're a silly, silly man." She shakes her head slowly and returns to her book. Last week, it was Dante who had better things to offer, far better things compared to him – such as a more poetic depiction of hell.

But even with the distant aura he can't quite pierce, she gives him a concept of what it would be like to have a home. A real home where you don't have to dread the evening and everything it brings out in people. Even when he was doing the SAS Fan Dance and lying on the cold ground to have a compulsory 2-hour shut-eye, he never missed home. The weather-beaten trail and a flapping tarp were still a cosier place than the one he'd left behind. 

The closest thing to an actual home was always solitude. A few days without routine. A cold shower in the morning to wake him, but not frigid enough to kill the erection. A good, unhurried fap and some stale spit circling down the drain. No one giving him a pitiful eye for tossing old takeaway in the bin and opening the cupboard only to be met with some canned food and table salt.

Now, the first thing in the morning is the sensation of her. Fingertips sneaking their way under his arm and ghosting his stomach, stirring him so softly he doesn't quite know if he's gone to heaven. Home is a sleepy nest and slow kisses followed by the sounds of brewing coffee. Home has become a place of mundane tasks: helping her water the plants and tasting whether the vanilla pudding she made has enough sugar. Changing sheets together, listening to the fitful sea as it breaks upon the shore. Watching how she reads of the Trojan War.

When he just stands there, admiring how her manicured nails glide over the pages, she talks to him again without raising her lashes from the book. 

"Did you need something?"

…You. All of you. 

Now and forever.

"Ya wanna go out to eat tonight?"

Finally, he grabs her attention. The distance between them is sewn up so fast even a jerk like him can understand he finally made the right fucking move.

"What about your… The mask?"

He shrugs.

"I thought you liked my cooking," she gives him a smile. Sly… Foxy.

"I do. But let me feed you for a change."

He sees in that stare and the way she purses her lips that she's trying to prevent a dirty joke from coming out of her pretty little mouth. As much as he appreciates that little cunning look, as much as he loves when that mouth gets a little dirty, he's more than serious now.

"Come on. Let me take you out."

"Well. If you insist," she smiles, shuts the book, and flies to her closet to pull out a stunner of a dress.

…..…..…..

Her fingertips always make his cock stir. They were supposed to go to sleep – a rare thing, to not slip inside her after a nice lil evening. To his surprise she starts to trace the few hairs on his stomach, threading through them as they thicken below. 

He can feel how she gets tense upon seeing that he's hard and heavy before she even reaches there. But she's not tense from anticipation.

"I overheard some of the guys talking about us. Or, well, me."

His cock gives a tug, and she still doesn't touch it.

"How I'm your luxury whore."

The curtain shifts as the wind plays with it: softly, while he's ripped out of the dark safety of the womb.

"Luxury…" She laughs, but it's bitter and thick. "Isn't it funny?"

He's hard now mainly because of the fury that rises. It ripples through his chest and pulls his stomach taut.

"Was it the rookie?"

He hears his voice from far away, from under the sea, but luckily, her hand brings him back. It's placed on him again, this time further up. She likes to trace the cavity between his pecs, pet the hair she finds there, too. Sometimes, she buries her face there and inhales his sweat, then uses that spot as her pillow. It's that very moment when he finds peace if he already hasn't by then.

"You don't have to defend my honour," the night speaks softly.

So, it was the rookie.

Nothing but a boy, younger than Soap and cockier than he was when he left Manchester with nothing but a duffel bag on his shoulder. Nothing but a boy, and she knows how boys are. She knows how boys talk. She wouldn't be in the Force if she took filthy quips seriously. 

But this is fucking different. The fantasies of what he'll do to the fucker when he gets back get sicker and more beautiful by the second.

"Just… don't come there anymore unless you're injured. Ok?"

He can't hear her because the vile word overrides even the gorgeous visions of torture. It gathers up his throat as bile, and he barely has time to take a deep breath to force it down before it's too late.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." 

"At this hour…?"

"Can't sleep anyway."

He reaches the bathroom just in time before the vomit flies. The power of it forces him on his knees, forces him to take hold of the door frame. Everything he fed to her shoots up, like it was only a dream that he could make her happy.

…Are you just here for sex?

Her shy question echoes from the tiles as another retch pulls the rest of his love out. 

He's sweating worse than the time they had to operate him in the field, back when a bullet had worked its way through the naked spot between the straps of his plate carrier. The shower washes some of it away, but the stench stays, the foul word and the insolence, all the shallow things he has given her coat the insides of his mouth no matter how many times he tries to spit it away. The water only does so much, and she's still not asleep by the time he returns to her. 

The luxury is waiting for him, silky and sweet. 

Wet, even, if he wants.

"Baby… Honey?"

Baby.

Baby.

He feels his guts in his throat again but swallows them down. She's beautiful, even when sad and sorry. Sorry, and for what? For him, instead of herself and what she's been called, the spite she has had to suffer simply for lying down in the filth with him. 

"Are you okay...?"

"Yeah."

He goes to her, pulls her in his arms, and hopes he doesn't smell of puke.

"They're just words. Right?"

I'm more than just your whore, right?

Her hand doesn't shy away from the sweat that breaks through his back. She's not afraid of him, even when he's the monster she never asked for. He can respect that kind of fearlessness. 

"You're awfully quiet," she tries. 

Baby, please don't go berserk, is what he hears.

"Go to sleep, pet," he calls forth his softest voice, relieved to notice it sounds more like a lullaby than a command. He allows her to kiss him, wondering if she can taste the grave. 

"Yes, sir," she breathes a soft smile in his mouth. Then she turns and coats herself with his arm. It must feel heavy around her, but she only gives a happy sigh. "I always sleep better with you. You feel so good… Safe."

He wonders how strange it is that love sometimes feels like pain. Her words come close to a knife slowly being pushed to his insides. They're still burning when she mutters the last essential thing, already half-asleep in his arms.

"They're just words, Simon…"

…..…..…..

He doesn't know much about poetry, but perhaps Dante was right. 

The heart of hell is not a fiery lake of torment but an icy, cold, stagnant place. There's nothing there. Everything is frozen: screams, thoughts, even dreams. 

He's walked through grey rubble and drenched asphalt, through alleyways of havoc and debris, he's trekked through desolate woodland and marsh. He's run through life like it's a day-to-day race to not get killed, but the worst of it isn't the bullets or the cold or the wind or the rain. It's the sleepless nights, the inertia. His soul in chains. On those nights, he wanted to get killed. 

And yet, he's not the only one who has suffered the unfortunate event of being dragged through every plane of hell. He's not the first man to go through the funnel, nor is he the last. It only looks bad in a society where he's supposed to own a credit card and a house. It only tastes like shit when someone asks "How does it make you feel?" 

People like him shouldn't go to therapy at all. His solution was to quit playing a modern man the minute he realized he's no longer fit for that role. He's simply a dead body, reanimated to serve a purpose. He's a sharp tool, a weapon. (A zombie.)

He serves the greater good, but everyone knows the greater good is propaganda too. There's no grand fight between light and darkness. Good and evil only conduct people's choices: even his old man must've thought he was making the world a better place by playing the rebel. He told him he served the Queen just to piss that sodded bastard off, but the truth is he never served anyone. Not even himself.

Now, there's an odd purpose to his task. Now, every cell in his body is full of animus. 

He's an animated corpse, perhaps, but they forgot to bury the wrath.

"Where's the rookie?"

"Getting stapled."

"Where?"

Which room? 

Which fucking room?

He doesn't stay to heed directions. He doesn't need them; his instinct tells him enough. He doesn't even bother to knock, simply barges in, only to see that the boy sits on the bed he used to sit on, in the exact same position as him. And he knows it's not just the blood loss that makes the fucker look so drowsy and smug. 

The fury is pierced with an ice-tinged sword as he sees her gentle touch – she's tending to the wounds of an ungrateful kid with the same compassion she gives to all her patients, and the first thing on his mind is that she would make a good mother.

"What're you doing here?" 

His voice is soaked in ash, but the boy only looks up from the bed with pure, trouble-seeking gall.

"What are you doing here…? Sir."

She's looking at him too. She's pleading with those eyes. Silently, desperately. 

"You can't come here, lieutenant. Not unless you're injured."

Her request only now makes sense as he sees how the boy looks him up and down and sees there's not a scratch on him. There's no reason for him to be here other than to relieve the pain in his loins.

"Well… Have fun," the rookie jumps from the table, and the rage threatens to pull him underwater like a tide. He never needed anything but his voice to stop a man in his tracks. Not size, not rank, not even his reputation, just voice. 

"My office. Five minutes."

The boy dares to give him another foul look.

"Is that all you need? Just five minutes?"

He even detects admiration in that stare – like he's some stallion, a prized old stud who receives fine mares to rut. Like the celestial woman standing behind this… boy is just some slag thrown to him like they threw to gladiators of old. His luxury whore.

The rookie finally catches the impending wrath that must swell and roil like sea inside the sockets of the skull. 

Yes, boy.

Death is coming.

"Sir," the boy swallows with an arduous blob, then walks out of the goddess's domain, finally with some humility upon those shoulders. 

The torture has already begun, and it shoots him full of sweet adrenaline. He tries to mask the rising war from her, but she sees enough just before he leaves her as well. Her words follow him but cannot penetrate the cloak of fury that shrouds him as he goes to prepare for carnage.

"Simon. I just stitched him together..."

…..…..…..

He doesn't solve the problem with a gun or a cock this time. 

He uses his fists and a knife.

It should disgust him; how much he enjoys it. It's one of those rare occasions when he almost loses himself in the riptide of blood. The things he imagines are far worse than what he finally allows himself to do. When the boy has a split lip and half his face swollen so bad he can't even see from the bruise, when the wetness dampens the crotch area and threatens to stain the carpet, he lets him go.

"Get out."

He's a different man when he rises from beside that broken boy; from next to the knife he plunged to the floor an inch away from his face to make his intentions clear. The boy is stripped of all arrogance and probably regrets the day he got the splendid idea to insult a woman. 

He doesn't have to get his hands deep into paperwork to have the rookie transferred; the boy does it for him. He leaves the base quietly as a shadow and with a face that looks like it has been forced through a waffle maker.

After that, everyone salutes him feet away.

His orders are obeyed without question, without a second's delay on missions. He has never pursued to be loved, but neither has he worked on making people fear him. Now he's not only a source of mystery and intrigue but also fear and wonder.

Soap isn't scared quite as shitless as the rest of them, but neither is he as friendly as he used to be. Price says nothing but he gets a few looks that tell him he has gone too far.

"You shouldn't have," she whispers when they're alone, stopping him in the quiet hallway. She's the only one who doesn't have fear and avoidance in her stare. If anything, the adoration in her eyes has deepened.

He has avoided her strictly, this time obeying her request not to go to her unless he has business there. He doesn't defend himself; he doesn't have the luxury to decide what should or shouldn't be done. He's not a saint nor a judge. He is territorial, though.

"You must be the craziest man I've ever met." 

She talks to his shadow as he's standing only a few feet away, unable to touch her.

"Good."

"...and the most incredible."

His sharp intake of air hisses between them as the artificial light casts shadows in electric blue. She tries to thank him for bashing a face in, all her noble Hippocratic Oaths forgotten.

She takes a step – just one, to make it perfectly clear she wants to touch him too.

"You're a brute, Simon."

The woman's eyes are a deep sea of gratitude. He wonders if she's equally as wet between those legs. Her voice says it all: she likes brutes.

The worship in her stare makes him understand why wars have been waged – this is the reason why crusaders sloshed through rivers of crimson blood, why whole civilizations were destroyed. This is why swords are forged and guns are fired. He draws another breath to swear his allegiance, an oath bound in blood.

"No one's gonna call you a–"

She crosses the final breadth of air between them and lifts his mask.

…..…..…..

The waves crash on the shore like clockwork. To him, it's the sound of limbo. 

The sea used to pull him in like a seductive pit, especially at night, during the sleepless shifts when he walked to the beach with nothing but the ghosts of all the people he had lost to keep him company. Watching all the futures and should have been's slowly drowning in the sea. 

Now he’s here with a living being, and the cold, dead sea has turned into blooming fireworks of crimson and coral. The amnesia has turned into bliss; all the treasures lost in the depths suddenly wash up on the shore like a sunken hoard.

She takes her shoes off the minute they reach the shore, then descends the sands with laughter. She could be from a movie or a magazine, gliding through bleached gold with sunbeams in her hair, sandals dangling from the crook of her fingers, heathers kissing her feet as she dives down the path. Her smile eclipses even the setting sun, and for the first time ever, he thinks it might've been a stupid idea to enlist. 

If there’s an opposite to ice and inertia, it's this. 

It's her. 

"You lied to me," she turns around but doesn't stop walking. "You have been to the beach."

She tilts her head as if reprimanding him, but he knows she's just laughing at his expense. She laughs at his name… She laughs at his broodings, she laughs at his shadows and his hubris. 

"Does anyone else know about this place?"

"No."

There's no soul out here but theirs; even the seagulls have withdrawn to rest. She stops to admire the sun, features turning soft as she takes in her counterpart. Apparently, she likes his humble tribute, the scarcity he has to offer. Some hollow bones, his opinion of a beach. Emptiness… A day coming to an end.

"I have no words for this."

"It's just a beach," he offers, and swallows when she turns. When the fuck has he ever felt embarrassed? His mask is gone, so she can see him swallow again as she approaches. It's the strangest thing how she can still cause his heart to hammer in his chest. He's used to stepping into a hail of bullets, driving a truck through a wall, waiting for that last unaware step to lunge forth and slit a man's throat. The organ never wailed then.

Her eyes take in his every flaw and scar, the rotten work on his skin before she wraps her hands around his neck. 

"No. No it's not. This is paradise."

She has to rise on her toes to kiss him, and he's glad he got rid of the mask. There's nothing between him and the taste of summer anymore – she reminds him of some bright tropical drink, something pure and sweet and innocent, pure fucking fun, something he has come to understand and define only through movies and tv. 

And he knows now why he always comes back to her. It's because he was injured. Badly, severely, life-threateningly injured – no, he was already deceased.  

She has introduced him back to the world: the sun, the birdsong, the simple, good life. How it feels like to have curtains, or bake just because it's Thursday, or walk barefoot on the beach in order to feel the burning sand on your skin. 

What kind of a medic has the power to resurrect the dead?

"Simon," she shivers into his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want people to think that… That we're just…"

"Pet. I know."

"They said you didn't trouble yourself with relationships."

Years of instinct and training make his spine tingle. He's holding another future in his arms and hopes it's not possible for a sea to swallow a sun.

"They?"

"Well, John. Captain." 

Her lashes hide what's going through her mind, but he can tell she's feeling shy from the way she shifts in his embrace.

"I asked about you. In spring. If there's someone… waiting for you."

He wrestles down a bitter laugh. The only lover ever waiting for him was nothingness in that chair; the only wife he came home to was shades, shadows, and dust. 

But he's starting to understand what she's trying to say. How, without even thinking about it, he just made the strongest possible declaration of not being here just for sex. He couldn't have sent a louder message with that boy.

Because not only Jonathan Price know that she's his. Soap knows too. Gaz knows too. Everyone working in Task Force 141 knows, even the fucking scrubbers and accountants know what's going on. Everyone knows that Ghost is real, and alive, and troubles himself with a relationship.

"I dreamed of you, you know." Her lashes flutter open, and he's met with the perfect example of total surrender. She's more than happy with the outcome, and why the hell shouldn't she be? Actions speak louder than words. He of all people should know that.

"Love–"

"Do you remember the day I found out you were a smoker?"

"...Sure."

She laughs, taking him back to the odd meeting in the yard when she was prying her suffocating latex gloves off, and he was trying to find some solace in a cigarette because he couldn't have her. 

"I was so angry at you. Playing with death at every turn..." 

"Yeah. Not the perfect man."

"But you were. You are." 

"Pet. If someone's perfect, it's you."

"No… I'm a hypocrite. I wanted you to just–just take me against the wall. After your stupid smoke."

He always wondered if she was suffocating too. In her gloves, in her beauty, in her sterile, medical, professional chasteness.

But he had no fucking clue that she–

"Or during, I don't care…"

Even the thought of her wanting him to tear apart her facades shatters the last sane thought in his head. He has tried to be civil, tried to suffocate the longing, but apparently, he doesn't have to. The image of burying himself inside her cunt while taking a drag from the thing she despises even more than his name or his mask or his guns is too fucking much. The fact that she views a dog like him as a perfect man makes his cock answer her call like a good, stout soldier. 

"Is that so?"

She stops breathing for a moment as he takes a drag from her now. She's raw whiskey straight to an empty stomach, the way his mind goes blank from sliding his mouth over the column of her throat. She tastes of sea there, and it's not pulling him in; it's pulling him under. The open-mouthed kisses make her jolt, he even draws out a moan or two; they swell between his legs. 

"You like that…?"

She answers to him with a soft whine. A soft nib of her ear, and her hips reply with a roll. The woman tries to latch onto him by gripping his shirt, threatening to do permanent damage to the fabric.

"No walls here, pet. Gotta take you on the sand," he gruffs in her ear, cock hard and ready from her tight little breaths. He could bet half his money that she's wetter than November down there. He could drag his cockhead across her cunt and the sound would be divine. 

"Simon–"

"I'll light a cig first."

"Stop teasing," she laughs, voice thick with hunger.

"...Roger that."

His hand is on his belt before he knows it. It's pathetic how much patience he has if he needs to crouch in a downpour and wait for a kill, but at the sight and smell and taste of her, he can't stop himself from wrenching his belt and pants open like a starved dog. It's a rush born of fear - that any time could be the last time.

She seems to shiver from his stare only when she lays herself upon the warm sand, naked as can be. She's like a vision on that beach: leaning on her elbows, thighs slowly parting, revealing the glistening sex between her legs. And she's fucking dripping, like an overripe peach. He could've safely bet all his money on her.

"How do you want me?"

Fucking fuck… 

He's walking in a dream: the most beautiful woman in the world is lying naked before his feet, bathing in gold, asking how he would prefer to take her. He doesn't even bother to get out of his clothes; he merely tugs his pants down and crawls between her legs, relishing the tight gasp he gets from being so crude.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight of him there, so close to her core, cock hanging heavy just an inch away from that tight cunt. She tries so hard to look composed while lying under his shadow, to not make it obvious that she wants that ugly thing inside. And it does feel like sin not to spread those legs and plough right in, especially when his fingers meet her silk and find that she's already throbbing.

"Want you just like this, pet," he rasps while dragging the pad of his thumb around her clit. Her back arches on the sand, forcing his fingers deeper into the dripping fruit.

It's different, her wetness; not thick and halfway there, but flowing, leaking, soaking good. The pussy is so glazed that he slips at the first attempt to slide a finger in. Her walls grip him the second he's seated deep, making it known how much she appreciates it that he's not here just for sex. 

"Someone's greedy," he's breathing rough, and she whines – he only gets to two fingers before she demands him to fuck her already.

"Want your–I need your cock…" 

She's begging, poor thing, almost crying on the sand, and he has no fucking choice but to remove his fingers and grab his cock instead.

"Have to go slow, love."

"Riley–for god's sake, now."

"F' fuck's sake…" He stumbles forward, all but gracefully, forces the tip on her soaked cunt as delicately as he can before pushing right in. She cries from the spread, fingers curling in the sand: a futile attempt to take him in without fainting.

"Tried to warn ya–"

"Don't you dare stop," she gasps, eyes full of love. As always, her wish is his command, and the tightness makes it an endless journey to bliss. The basest parts of him think about dying – having a heart attack on the same beach he almost drowned in, about ceasing to exist just for the sake of knowing that nothing is as good as this. 

He's deep as can fucking be, and it's still not enough – it's never enough. He collects her in his arms with a frustrated grunt, cock giving a tight pull only when she's finally safe and snug in his embrace. It's a tight cuddle that leaves them both breathless.

"Hold me tighter..." 

It's a soft order, but he can't get any closer: chest plastered on her skin and balls pressed against her ass, the sand grinding against her back as he makes love to her. She’s not made of twigs, but he’s far bigger than her, already threatening to crush her with his weight.

"Tighter…" she begs on his lips, tries to pull him closer with her whole being.

"Pet, I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," she sings, completely shieldless. Something warns him of danger, a reset far worse than drowning or being buried alive or shooting himself in a lonely apartment. He tries to calm her down with a kiss: he knows she loves kisses - but there are tears in her eyes, and his heart is hammering, hammering… 

"Simon, do you love me…?"

She asks that question right on his lips, and the first thing in his dog mind is that it's a stupid thing to ask when he's balls deep inside her and still trying to get closer.

"Yeah," he almost chokes on it, knowing it could be their wedding day and he would still choke on it because it doesn't taste like salt or metal or grave.

"I love you," she whispers. "Do you understand?"

No. No…

I fuckin' don't–

"And I'll always be here for you."

To his shock, there’s no sea water in his lungs, no dirt in his mouth. He’s not choking on anything, he's not in fact dying at all: he’s floating, somewhere between the sun and the sand and the sea. There's no more rush, no jaws of death snapping at his heels. He doesn't even long for heaven anymore. Not when there's a paradise on earth.

"Love, I need you to–need you to focus," he tries to stutter nonsense while she's pledging herself to him. Of course she only laughs at him: it hits him with the sweetest warmth.

"You're so silly…" 

"Yeah? I know." 

He's laughing too. It's just a few notes that get taken away by the sound of waves. It's just a breath from deep within, and still… Her gaze drops to his mouth, a flutter blinks back more tears.

"I love it when you laugh..." Her eyes shine brighter than the sun, riding the spine of the sea as one perfect tear rolls down her cheek. "Love it…"

The sun sets in tangerine, his new favourite colour. There's a whole bloom out there in the sky when she comes, fast and bright in his embrace. He comes right after, just from trying to stay inside her warmth, deep inside her, around her, and she says it, again and again and again… Until he breathes.

….….….

"Remember when I said I could've managed? Without you," she asks when they lie on the sand, skin on skin, watching the sun set beneath the onyx sea. The waves rise and break, but around them, the air is still. He's still inside her as she pulls his hand over her heart, entwining their fingers together: it's the softest little arrest, but her squeeze doesn't lack strength. 

"I lied too."

"I know."

She chuckles softly. "Is there something you don't know?"

"...Yeah. Why you're here out of all places."

She turns her head from the sunset into the falling darkness of him, and he wonders if that's why she's here... To be with his night. She said that people always get the dark wrong: that it's not supposed to be scary at all. That the purpose of darkness is safety, security, that there are tales where the day chases the night, and the night chases the day. She said it's because they're in love with each other.

"You really don't know…?" 

"You were smiling before we met and now you're crying all the time."

She looks up at him with trust and devotion, his daylight, his sun. There's none in the sky anymore, but it doesn't matter. It lives in her eyes.

"People cry from happiness too, Simon."

[thepinklink]

@skyward-floored made this post the other day and it gave me ideas. As it is 3,000 words long, I thought it’d be too long for a reblog, so here we are. Thank you for the inspiration, and I hope you like it, Peggy!! ❤️

Read the fic under the cut

“So, what was he like?” Warriors asks conversationally as he sits down before the fire, settling down to eat his dinner of rice.

Marin looks up from her own bowl and hums a questioning acknowledgment. “Mm?”

“You mentioned you knew another Link before.” Warriors shoves a spoonful of rice in his mouth. “What was he like?”

Marin nods, and ponders for a second, a dreamy glaze over her eyes. Warriors recognizes it in the other soldiers he talks to when they mention the loved ones they left behind. Marin opens her mouth as if to speak, the words still evading her for a moment. When they come, they’re wrapped tenderly in admiration and wistfulness.

“He was…like a dream. He was…he was everything I was missing. I told him that I wished I could fly, and he made me feel that I could. I told him I wanted to see the world, and he became it for me, and I saw him every day. His hands were rough and calloused, but he chose not to be calloused in character. He looked at me like I was everything, and he was smart and he was kind and you could see it all in his eyes. And those eyes, they were blue, bluer than the sea where it kisses the sky on the horizon.” She smiled, face turned towards the sky, mind far away from the campfire.

Warriors doesn’t know what to say. He’s heard a lot of people gush about their loved ones, but there is something about the way Marin speaks, careful and sure, that surprises him. He feels he shouldn’t be hearing this—like it was meant for her Link’s ears only, and he was eavesdropping. He’s saved the trouble of an initial response when Marin speaks again.

“I can still hear him so clearly. I can still feel his hair beneath my fingers. I remember him so well…but it all feels like a dream, I feel…that it all *was* a dream, im a way. And, verily, all dreams must come to an end. I wonder if he remembers me, and I wonder if he misses me as badly as I miss him. I’m sure he’s got better things to worry about. But…maybe that’s better. If I hurt this badly, I don’t want him to feel it at all. He told me stories of his past, and he’s lost so much and gained so little…it would be better if he didn’t remember me and was saved the pain of missing me. But then…I wish he did remember me. We loved each other…I hope he remembers me as fondly as I do him.” Marin looks at Warriors, browns eyes brimming with heartache. “Is that selfish?”

Her expression is pleading—silently begging for an answer Warriors is certain he has no business giving. But he can’t leave her hanging. He swallows.

“No. I don’t think it’s selfish. I think…I think he thinks the same thing. I think he lies awake at night, and thinks about you. I think he carries you with him everywhere, in a way, and I think that in a world full of gold and glory and titles, you are his greatest treasure. And I think it will always be that way, for him.”

The lapse in conversation is taken over by the crackle of the fire, and for a few minutes Warriors just watches the sparks curl up towards the night sky. Eventually, with a sniffle, Marin speaks again.

“You Links…you’re all the same, aren’t you?” She says with a watery laugh. “So caring and sensitive. You and him would have gotten along well.”

Warriors chuckles. “I’ll take your word for it.”

* * *

It’s Legend.

Warriors knows as soon as he meets him. They shake hands, and then Warriors finds himself staring into a pair of bright blue eyes.

Blue eyes, as blue as where the sea kisses the sky on the horizon.

They’re sharp, too, Warriors can see Legend taking in a thousand little details even in the brief second they make eye contact, and then introductions continue and Warriors is left reeling under the feeling of having met a ghost.

Later, he talks himself off that ledge. He’s paranoid—as soon as he heard they were all named Link, he’d been on the lookout. He was just paranoid, looking for the first guy who matched Marin’s description, when it was an unrealistic endeavor anyways. Marin hadn’t mentioned any defining physical traits—all the Links had blue eyes, the same blue eyes, in fact, and calloused hands. Everything else had been regarding his character, the way he treated her and made her feel. And Warriors definitely wasn’t getting any first-hand examples of those.

As the weeks go by and Warriors gets to know them all, he ignores the insistent instinct that Marin’s lover is Legend and instead analyses everyone else. And they all fall epically and tragically short. Wind was talkative and never mentioned a Marin, despite telling plenty of stories all staged at sea, and if Warriors was understanding things correctly, Wind was close to a pirate girl named Tetra. Nothing romantic, per se, but everything about Wind simply had the wrong…vibe. That was all Warriors could really argue. Since Marin never mentioned physical traits, it could have been any of them, really, leaving Warriors main method of deduction as whatever his gut was feeling.

Wild ruled himself out with his own Zelda, and most of his story came out fairly early in their journey and no Marin was ever mentioned. Twilight spoke of a girl who had broken his heart, and his melancholy demeanor didn’t match the wistful longing Warriors thought he should have had. Sky was happily courting, Hyrule much too shy, and Four too active and analytical.

Warriors briefly thought it could be Time—he spoke of his wife with utmost adoration. But then they met her, and although Warriors was surprised at her strange likeness to Marin, knew it definitely wasn’t Time.

Which left, as Warriors had originally and always known, Legend. And it only grew more obvious as the time passed.

He guessed exactly who Time married, because he loved someone near the same. He could be snarky and bold when he talked to them, ruthless and calculated in a fight, but Warriors saw the way he interacted with kids and people in the villages they stayed at or passed through. It was as if he’d flipped a switch, and suddenly he was the gentlest and softest person Warriors had ever met. Meeting him in person strengthens the way Marin had described him—hands rough and calloused by his past and traumas, but he chose purposely not to let it sour his character. And he did it all at the ripe age of 18.

All of this, of course, fell into place weeks after their initial meeting, and when it finally did Warriors was left with an entirely new problem: getting Legend to confirm it.

He knew in his heart, sure, that Legend was in fact the Link Marin had loved so deeply. But he could only be 99% sure. That last one percent would come as soon as Legend mentioned her, but Warriors is impatient to wait for it to happen organically. But he also doesn’t want to just walk up to him and mention it—he respects Legend, sure, but that isn’t enough to bridge the gap of familiarity. It isn’t enough to explain the awful feeling Warriors has. It isn’t enough to cover the possibility—probability—that if Warriors is too impatient, it could lead to insensitivity and the last thing Warriors wants to do is dredge up bad memories when Legend is caught in a place where he can’t run.

Ultimately, Warriors can only wait. No matter how anxious he is, he places his money on the goddesses having everything planned out already, and his chance will come when it comes. Which it does, and sooner than the Captain expected.

Months have passed since they first met, and the group has grown much closer. Close enough to rifle through each other’s things, poke and prod at other, compete for largest scar and in general, act very much like brothers. And Warriors has grown to consider them so; in a way he never has with anyone else, Warriors loves them as if they are all of the same flesh and blood. And after that, his mission is no longer delivering one last message. It is giving his brother a vital piece of information. He no longer owes it to him because of Marin or out of perceived obligation. He owes it to him because to keep it to himself would be to lie to his brother.

Well. Maybe not directly, but still. It would feel like lying.

Thus, one warm and humid evening somewhere in Time’s Hyrule, deep in some woods somewhere, when Legend stands up and stretches and declares he’s going on patrol, Warriors jumps straight the chance to accompany him. The silence is peaceable at first, and the two heroes walk through the woods, eyes peeled and ears open for any sign of monsters. The camp noises fade far behind them, replaced by the sounds of a forest preparing for bed. It’s broken when Legend stops abruptly.

“What?” Warriors asks, stopping too and looking around. “Did you see something?”

“What do you want?”

Warriors stops and looks at Legend. “What?”

“What do you want?” Legend repeats, eyes boring into Warriors’ soul. They betray no sign of hostility or wariness, and neither does Legend’s tone. It’s short and to the point. “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind. You have since we first met. I thought you must have recognized me, but I know I’ve never seen you before in my life. So what is it?”

Warriors blinks. Damn, the kid is perceptive. He struggles to find the words, everything sounding too soon, too indifferent, too harsh. Shouldn’t there have been a more gentle lead up to this? Then again, Warriors has no idea how he would have achieved that, either.

“Spit it out,” Legend says impatiently. “I’m not a little kid, I can take it. Are you mad I smeared mud on your face the other day? Because if that’s the case I’m not apologizing, I was perfectly justified—“

“Marin.” Warriors says, and Legend’s jaw snaps shut. His whole body stiffens, something flickers in his eyes—good natured annoyance turns to fear, ever so briefly, before he relaxes again. He’s deadly calm now, attention completely on Warriors. He doesn’t say anything, so Warriors keeps going.

“I met a girl during the war. Her name was Marin. She had red hair and a blue and purple dress and she could sing like no one else. When we met, and I told her my name, she smiled and said that she knew a Link, once. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Legend nods stiffly. Warriors hesitates. Again, words evade him. Legend doesn’t care.

“That’s not everything.” His voice is almost monotone. “Tell me.”

Warriors opens his mouth. No words come out.

“Captain.” It’s harsh this time, almost anxious. “Say it.”

“…She’s gone.”

* * *

“Spit it out. I’m not a little kid, I can take it. Are you mad I smeared mud on your face the other day? Because if that’s the case I’m not apologizing, I was perfectly justified—“

“Marin.”

Legend hates the cold shock that shudders through his whole body when Warriors says it. He forces himself to stay calm, taking a deep breath and exhaling through his nose. His silence prompts Warriors to continue.

“I met a girl during the war. Her name was Marin. She had red hair and a blue and purple dress and she could sing like no one else. When we met, and I told her my name, she smiled and said that she knew a Link, once. That was you, wasn’t it?”

Legend nods. He can tell that isn’t what Warriors wanted to tell him. Not all of it, anyway.

“That’s not everything. Tell me.”

Silence.

“Captain.” He feels the faint tendrils of desperation prickling at his heart. “Say it.”

“…She’s gone.”

Legend doesn’t understand at first. Maybe, unconsciously, he doesn’t want to understand.

“What? Of course she is. She…she has been, for awhile now, and she clearly isn’t here—“

“Legend. She’s dead.”

There’s no way he can misunderstand that. He can’t feel the rest of his body. He just keeps standing there, staring hardly at Warriors’ face.

“What.”

“She…she died, Legend. I’m sorry. She fought long and hard, but ultimately the enemy overtook her. She didn’t…she didn’t even have a chance.”

Legend keeps staring at him for a second, and then he shifts his gaze to the ground. He feels sick. He’s shaky and weak, and after a minute, he just sits down.

Warriors knew Marin during his war. Which meant she survived. Somehow, she had survived Koholint, even though it was a dream.

And then she died in that war.

The irony. It’s so ironic, in a sick and twisted way, he can taste it. Uncalled for, a chuckle escapes him, and then a soft laugh, and then he’s just cackling outright, loud, humorless laughter because of course she survived. Of course the Windfish would spare her, of course Legend find that out in an information of her death somewhere else.

Of course Legend would only find out that he didn’t kill her after she had died at someone else’s hand.

He laughs, and he laughs, and he laughs until Warriors is shaking his shoulders and telling him to snap out of it. He does his best, but ultimately all he can do is grasp Warriors’ forearms and look into his eyes, still chuckling breathlessly.

“…Of course.” He says. Warriors looks genuinely afraid of what Legend will say next. “Of course, the goddesses would let me blame myself. Of course they would let me spend all this time hating myself, until they knew there was no way she could distract me.”

Warriors is visibly confused. “What?”

“That’s got to be it…right? There’s nothing…I don’t know why else they would do this. How…could I be so damn unlucky? I’ve lost her twice. How do I keep doing this?” He laughs again, but when it fades out he’s too short of breath and his eyes burn. Scalding tears sear his cheeks, and he doesn’t know if he’ll survive how badly his heart hurts. Not again.

Warriors shifts to tuck him completely against his chest, holding him tightly, as if he could absorb the pain somehow.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into Legend hair. “I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Legend cries for a long time, and violently enough that Warriors wonders if he’s getting enough air. They’re incredibly vulnerable here, and when Warriors hears something approaching through the woods, he jumps up and very nearly stabs Wolfie as he jumps through the bushes. Wild is close behind him, and once Warriors knows it’s just them he returns to Legend.

“Whoa!” Wild yelps softly as he sees Warriors gathers the limp and unyielding Veteran into a bridal carry. “Is he—“

“He’s not injured.” Warriors assures him, shifting his hold on Legend so it’s more comfortable for them both. “He just heard some pretty shocking news and it hit hard.”

Wild nods, understanding immediately and offering no further inquiries.

“You guys have been gone so long we started to worry. Supper’s way past over and we were about to get ready for bed when we realized you hadn’t returned, so we split up and went searching,” Wild explains his sudden appearance.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” Warriors apologizes sincerely.

“It’s alright. Just as long as no one’s hurt.”

The walk back is silent, and Warriors has never been so glad to see bed rolls surrounding a campfire. Legend isn’t asleep, but he’s sluggish and almost unresponsive. Wild digs his bed roll from his bag while Warriors coaxes him to at least take off his boots, and then as soon as he’s tucked into his bed roll, he’s asleep. Warriors, searching to offer a little bit more comfort, undoes his scarf and lays it over the Veteran like a blanket. He doesn’t know that it will actually do much in the way of support, but it makes him feel better so he leaves it.

Warriors himself stays awake until every searching member of the chain has returned, just to explain what took them so long. Any anger at the inconvenient scare dissipates upon hearing how it came to be, and seeing the Veteran curled up in his bed roll. Arguably, they can’t really tell by his face that he’s been distressed—but the fact that he was already asleep when they all got back, and that he remained asleep throughout the remainder of bedtime prep, spoke for itself. Even though Warriors didn’t say exactly what Legend was told, the weight of the situation falls on them all, and except to establish watches, no more words are spoken for the rest of the night.

* * *

Not a word passes Legend’s lips for a week. His mood seems to shift through the days; at first he is almost angry, going everywhere and about everything with a hard purpose, refusing to let his emotions get the better of him. And then one day, he loses that battle as soon as he wakes up, and is the last one for the rest of the week. The last one to get out of bed, the last one to pack up, the last one to start and the last one to stop.

The others do their best to accommodate him, no matter how much time they lose. They can tell he’s trying, even when he’s too tired to. They’ve all been there, in some way, at some point in time. They all give him space, they do their best to silently convey that they’re there for him when he wants to reach out.

Everyone, that is, save Wind. And it is Wind, surprisingly, who breaks him out of it all.

He’s annoying, at first, sticking to Legend’s side like glue and chattering away at every hour of the say. Legend comes very close to strangling him more than once, but that all fades with the anger. The week continues, and Wind’s constant talking fills the silence, the lighthouse on the hill during a storm. He doesn’t realize it until later, but Wind was always helping hold him together. His every story, his every mundane topic was all meant to keep Legend from getting trapped in his own head. From forgetting the feeling of grass beneath his boots and the sound of his brothers as they all walked on.

An evening almost seven days exactly from that first, Legend is sitting in front of the fire, leaned against a log. Wind sits on the log next to him. For the first time in a week, the Sailor is quiet, and not because his mouth is full of food. Then,

“What was she like?”

The question is a violent shift from anything else Wind had said before. His cheery, story-telling tone is gone, replaced instead with tentativeness. It’s soft and curious, worried he’s overstepped. Legend glances around the fire, and the rest of the Chain has all stopped. There’s some tension as they wait for Legend’s response, unsure if he’ll answer or if it will have a negative effect. Legend’s eyes settled back on the fire and he sighs.

“She was my everything.” He looks at Wind, who is watching him with rapt attention. “You would have liked her.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. Words can’t really describe her, anyways.

“Could she sing?” Wind asks. Legend nods.

“Yes, she could sing.”

“What did she look like?”

“…She had red hair, and big brown eyes, and she could get anything out of me with those eyes.”

Wind laughs. “She sounds like Malon.”

Legend smiles. “She was a lot like Malon. Of Malon were a goddess, they’d be almost the same.” He looks at Time. “No offense, Old Man.”

“None taken,” Time says softly, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

A comfortable silence settles over the camp for a few moments.

“She once asked me if it was selfish of her to hope you remembered her.” Warriors says suddenly. “I said it wasn’t.”

Legend nods again. “You were right.” He looks up at the unfamiliar stars, and wonders if she now knows he never forgot.