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hayatoseyepatch · 5 months ago

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𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷: Barou had intended for this evening to be spent much differently. A nice little stroll down candy cane lane. However seeing you so starry eyed at the homes and families that surrounded you both had his heart warm and his cock straining in his pants.

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻: Shoei Barou (Blue Lock)

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 3k

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼: Barou x Eve. SMUT. Friend's selfship, physical descriptions are tailored to Eve unapologetically. 𝓒𝔀: Breeding, penetrative sex, car shenanigans, fingering, praise, degradation, mentions of their shitty HOA fuck the Barou's HOA, mentions of insert's body's changes due to pregnancy, downright them being in love (cause they are), did I mention breeding? cause yeah theres a shit ton of that.

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻’𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: @eevees-hobbies MY LOVEBUG, when I tell you I was so excited to be your secret santa for the Roppongi Strip Club's exchange l really was. I have been asking you dumb questions for weeks so I hope you enjoy my love. Merry Christmas! Also so sorry in advance for incorporating myself into your selfship lore but likeeee I'm your wife so its alright isnt it? LMAO

Barou couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the spur of his hips, the way they were guided forward with one notion. One that not only guided his thrusts, but one that caused more than a hefty ache in his balls. Part of him felt embarrassed, no mortified, that someone who held so much pride in his composure had been taken down to his barest instincts with just one simple conversation. You had such a hold over him, one that made him weak, desperate. His thoughts consumed him, and as he watched your face contort in pleasure beneath him, writhing in ecstasy, he was sure you didn’t mind too much.

The evening had started off innocently enough, your beautiful brown eyes lighting up at the prospect of going to see the above and beyond decorations of those who “have so much money they don’t care about their light bill”. Your condo was more than enough to accommodate you both, nice, spacious, but you didn’t have the accessibility to go all out. Your decorations all remained interior. So as you both got ready he mentally cursed this condo and your HOA for dimming your holiday spirit. He had several arguments with its head, but it seems like you call the head of your HOA committee a donkey ONE TIME and they retaliate with ridiculous fines for the smallest infractions.

He watched the mirth in your eyes, the way you bounced around your living space as you readied yourself to head out, he couldn’t help the warmth that blooms in his chest. Barou had never considered himself someone who relied on others. An extremely, sometimes to his own detriment, independent person who obtained everything on his own He didn’t need to be surrounded by people. Often times even thinking down on those who had such dependencies on others. There had been a time in his life where all he cared about was what he could achieve, never envisioning himself as someone who would even foster a romantic relationship But as looked around your shared condo, little touches of you all throughout, he couldn’t help but to think that he was so grateful for breaking his character and going to that party all those years ago.

He remembered it so vividly, even in the dim lights of that stupid frat house, you had been radiant. Your warm skin, infectious laughter, and that smart ass mouth was more than enough to have intrigued him. And even more than enough to keep him coming back for more. Admittedly he hasn’t always been the most romantic, not at first, but he couldn’t be more grateful for your patience with his “emotionally constipated ass” as your annoying best friend called it.

He loved everything about you, but that woman was the bane of his existence. Taking up your time, always having something smart to say. He wasn’t sure how on earth his teammate put up with her. But he supposed he had her to thank for you both meeting Taunting him for not attending their teams afterparty at a teammates fraternity. Knowing he hated to be challenged, gaslighting him into attending to prove he wasn’t a “socially isolated donkey”. To be fair the party hadn’t been the first time he had seen you. Sam was dating their midfielder, having drug you to more than a few of their games. The first time he had seen you he was taken. At the time he was more than frustrated with himself at the way in following games he would search for you in the crowd.

His eyes would tread through the sea of meaningless faces, he had supposed he was grateful for your lesser half’s brightly colored hair at the time as it made it easier for him to find you. After every goal every achievement on the field he would let his eyes fall to you, even then he supposed he was searching for your approval. For the look now that held pride at the attendance of his games. Being his and screaming it from the sidelines. But one particular time he had found you in the crowd but met the eyes of your friends moments later, a self-satisfied smirk (that he would come to know meant nothing good) lacing her features. In less than a week he was leaned against a wall, grimacing at those in attendance before his eyes locked with yours. Not from the crowd at a game but right in front of him. He supposed your best friend wasn’t too bad. Especially with the way she loved to credit herself with your first meeting. Hearing the tone of an incoming message he takes his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the notification; speak of the devil.

Merry Christmas, Donkey. ( •؎ • ) Heard you and Eve are going out tonight, better propose to her soon bud before I do it for you~ (•̀ᴗ•́ )و

Never mind, he was right, he hopes that monster of a woman chokes. Even if she did go with him to get the piece of jewelry tucked away in your bedside drawer. His deepest condolences go out to his teammate she was preparing to marry.

The brisk December air whipped against your cheeks as you walked down the “candy cane lane” the lavish homes brightly decorated and covered in an array of glittering décor. He watched the way your face lit up as you past the scenes, giggling at the ones you had claimed to bee “too gaudy” or looking like a “hot mess”. He felt you shiver against him, the cold getting to you. Pulling from you a bit, he unravels the scarf that he had worn. Its red color a stark match to his eyes. Standing in front of you as he fastens the fabric around your neck to add an additional layer of warmth.

“I told you that you were going to be cold without one, baby.” He huffs, doting on you to assure your comfort.

“Well I just wanted to get here before the crowds got too bad, my king.”

He felt his cheeks flush, unable to be blamed on the cold. His heart picking up speed as it did every time that name had slipped past those beautifully plump lips. There was something about you using the title he had dawned himself with that had his heart racing and his cock stirring to life within his jeans. Coughing to conceal the effect your words had on him continued down the street with you. Taking in the scenery and enjoying each other’s company. You both has approached a stand ran by a few kids selling hot chocolate hoping to bite through the cold. Watching you interacting with the little ones, more specifically the baby that rested on the hip of one of their parents, had a sensation bubbling in his stomach.

The same one he got every time he saw you interacting with his younger sisters. The one that saw how good you were with them, the one that had his head filled with thoughts of one day it being your shared child you were cooing at, the one that had his balls aching with a need to stuff your cunt full enough of his seed until it took. Broken from his thoughts when you waved a hand in front of his face, offering him the warm beverage. After teasing him a bit for dazing off you both set back to your path.

“You know, Shoei, I can really see us settling into one of these.” Your voice held a thoughtful tone, looking more at the homes you passed than him specifically.

“Oh, yeah? Is that something you would want, Eve?”

“Yeah, I mean just think of it. Maybe one day we’ll have a house we decorate like we don’t pay for the electricity.” You giggled before continuing, a dreamy tone taking over your voice. “Maybe standing our front while our kid sells hot chocolate. I could see us in one of these, children of our own, maybe a German Shepard or two.” You giggle once more, completely unaware of the effect your words had on him.

He couldn’t help but let his mind wander. The thoughts of you holding your own child in your arms as they giggled. The idea of the both of you looking up at him as you welcomed him home after a game he had won. Coming in to envelop you both in his arms, only to put them to bed to give them a sibling for Christmas. These thoughts consumed him. And as much as they made his heart fill with warmth, he couldn’t help but feel the strain of his cock in his pants once more. The thought of your tummy becoming swollen with his child plagued his mind. Breast swollen and filled with the nutrients needed to feed your child. It almost stoked a primal urge inside his mind. He needed to have you, and he needed it now.

Barou had sworn the drive back to your condo had never been longer than right now, his cock straining against the confines of his pants, the thoughts from earlier still running rampant in his mind. The grip he hand on your knee as he drove served as a warning. The indicator of how this evening was about to go. It wast long before his hand began to wander, rubbing up and down the expanse of your plush thighs as he drove.

“Shoei?” You questioned, his behavior unusual, not often risking touching you when operating a vehicle. But damn, he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck. He needed to feel you in some capacity.

“Shh, Eve, just let me take care of my queen.”

His words dripped with desperation. Deft fingers unbuttoning your pants with practiced ease. Wasting no time in sliding them past the waistband of your panties. Grinning as he comes into contact with your already drenched cunt. Always so responsive to his touch.

“See baby, you question me, but your cunts already dripping baby.”

His hand slips from your pants, to show his glistening fingers from one pass of your slick. Making a show of separating his index and middle fingers, letting your see the string of your arousal that connects the two digits. Popping them in his mouth, adding lubrication while getting a taste of your arousal.

“Sweeter than fucking honey, Eve.”

Sliding his hand back where it once was, his fingers sliding past your slit to your sensitive clit. Rubbing slow agonizing circles against your bundle of nerves. He relishes in the grip you have on the center console, moans falling from your lips as he keeps his attention on you. Sliding further into your folds he slips a finger past the ring of your entrance, your velveteen walls drawing in the digit greedily, being rewarded with the squelch of your arousal as he begins to pump his finger.

“Your cunt’s sucking me in so well, Eve. So responsive to me. That’s my good girl, this fucking cunt is mine to touch whenever and wherever I please isn’t it baby?”

All you can muster is a nod, and for now that’s enough for him. Your rewarded with the addition of another digit, fingers setting a steady pace as they invade the welcoming walls of your cunt. Curling his fingers to abuse that spot he knows always has your eyes crossing. He can feel your hips bucking against his hand, positioning it in such a way that your clit would be nudged by the heel of his palm with every grind of your hips. He had always taken full advantage of just how sensitive you were, how easy it was to have you unravelling for him. Taking advantage of the red light he just stopped at to increase the speed of his fingers, fucking your cunt until your hips were jerking against him. Your walls spasming against his digits as you came, eyes welled with tears.

With a grin, his ego stroked as his cock ached within its confines. That first orgasm being the promise to be the first of many that evening. Slipping his fingers into his mouth once more, cleaning your honeyed arousal from his skin, knowing that the moment you were both back in the safety of your condo he would have you on his cock for the remainder of the evening.

“Please Shoei, please, wanna come please I don't care, my king.. I just need to come all over your cock, daddy, need to feel it so bad baby. Fuck.. Please, daddy cant take it.” Desperation bled into your voice, spurring him to move his hips rougher, deeper, harder, to force more pf his cock into your tight cunt.

“Need to feel you come inside my cunt.. want you to breed my pussy Shoei make me a mommy daddy.” Those words were Barou’s last nail in his coffin. Releasing your curls from his grip, he removes himself from your cunt, hearing the whining whimper you let out in response to the loss of him stuffing your cunt. The feeling of emptiness doesn’t last long. He was quick to swap your positions, flipping you with ease until you were on your back, looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes now rimmed with tears of pleasure and frustration. His hands found the backs of your knees, forcefully pressing your thighs to your chest. He sheaths his cock into your drenched depths with one surge of his hps. Eyes rolling back at how well you take him.

“God, Eve, this cunt was fucking made for me. Always taking my cock so fucking well my queen.” He groans pistoning his hips, the squelch of your arousal bouncing off the walls sweeter than the most beautiful symphony. “Gonna stuff you so full of my cum you’re gonna be leaking for fucking days, you hear me? Might just keep this cunt plugged up with my cum 24 fucking 7 until I’m sure you’re having twins, my Eve.” He groans, head dipping down to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder, the way your cunt spasmed around his cock told him all that he needed to know about how you felt about that idea. His fingers come in contact with your sensitive bundle, rubbing harsh circles on your clit to overwhelm you with pleasure.

“Yeah, my queen, you like the sound of that? Me sliding a plug into this greedy cunt, only to be taken out to give you a fresh load, hm my little breeding bunny?”

He watched the way you threw your head back against the sheets, curls surrounding your head like a halo, such a stark difference to what was taking place and the words that fall from your lips.

“Fuck, my king, yes! Want you to stuff your cuntfull of your cum.. stuff me and plug me until I make you a daddy Shoei.”

Your words were the catalyst. He ducks his head lips tugging the peaked bud on your chest into his mouth, teeth grazing it, biting harshly before soothing it with his tongue. Your words spoken directly in his ear have his eyes rolling back and the coil tightening in his belly. He knew from the moment he sunk into you he wouldn’t last long, his games having kept him from your cunt for too long. The thoughts from earlier plaguing him in a way that he knew the first round of the evening would have him spilling into that perfect cunt. Having missed the feeling of your suffocating walls. His hips snapping harshly speed of his fingers picking up as he rubbed your clit in tight circles

“Yeah Eve? Fuck, show me then show me how much you want me to fill you up baby. Come for me my queen, come on my cock so I cant breed this tight fucking cunt kitten.”

Throwing your head back at the attention suddenly given to your chest as you cried out his name once more, his words were the last thread on the rope before it snapped in half. Pulling him impossibly closer than what he already was, nails digging into his shoulders a chant of his name whimpering as you were thrown over the edge. Walls strangling his cock as you came, body convulsing with the overwhelming pleasure.

“Please fill me up Shoei… please I want it so bad breed me please.” Your words came out breathlessly, whined into his ear. ‘Please give me it to me.. I need it so bad please daddy I need you to stuff my cunt full of your cum.”

You shivered at the feeling of being more filled than what you already were at the hot ropes of cum that flood your cunt in direct obedience to your pleas. A rather loud cry, almost a scream ripping past your lips. The sensation of his seed flooding your womb having triggered a second orgasm, cunt gushing as you soaked Barou and the sheets below with your wetness. His hips slapping violently against your own as he paints your insides with a loud scream of your name. His thrusts slow after a moment making sure he had filled you with every drop he had to offer. Heart racing, as his arms wrap around you and he pulls your trembling form to his chest pressing tender kisses everywhere his lips could reach.

The two of you stay there for a while, collecting your breaths, locked in each other’s warm embrace. Lips press to your skin as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasms. Sweet kisses stoke a trail to your plump lips, capturing them in a searing kiss. Heat steadily building, his tongue invading your mouth as he claims it as his own once more. His cock barely having the time to soften completely before you felt it stirring to life within your depths once more. Barou swallows the surprised noise that bubbles up in your throat. Pulling from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips that snaps as he speaks.

“The night is long from over, Eve. You’re not leaving this bed before I’m sure this cunt cant take another single drop of my cum.”

Character banner and dividers by me.

#blue lock smut #blue lock fanfiction #blue lock x self insert #barou smut #barou shoei smut #selfship writing #self shipping #✐ᝰ. — samwrites

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starstruckloves · 18 days ago

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do you have this amazing oneshot or thought in your head that you want to write down but never feel like it or find time to do so ? well, look no further because my writing commissions are now open !! yippee !!!

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divider by @/saradika-graphics

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leogoth21 · 1 month ago

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When you want to make fanfics about your S/I x F/O but get so embarrassed when doing so...

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sparkyscissorhands · 9 days ago

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❮ i’ve got what you're itching for now ❯

➤ Title From: Bring It (Demo)

➤ Words: 4081

➤ Ship: Sisky Scene (self insert)/Veneer

Summary: After the events of TBT is when Sisky and Veneer first meet. And Veneer has never met someone quite like Sisky before.

Notes: Suggestive humor used (all of that comes from Sisky lol) but nothing too explicit, TV-14 type stuff. Many band references. And Link to Doc cause this is long wrow

One of the good aspects of life in this forsaken place he was thankful for was how easily Mount Rageous forgave crime. Yeah, prison sucked, but at least he wasn’t in there for years. Those few months were the worst, but it could have been worse. Yet, while the prison sentence was graciously light, getting back into the swing of life was the more difficult part. Mount Rageous loved gossip and drama. Everyone was nosy as hell, and most famous celebrities were typically arrested for stealing and vehicular manslaughter. Trollnapping and huffing illegal substances—which were, in fact, the trolls they kidnapped? Unheard of.

Veneer couldn’t go anywhere without someone asking him, “Hey, aren’t you the pop singer who got arrested for kidnapping those trolls?” It was a rhetorical question. They knew who he was already. The question was then followed by a million more invasive questions. There was nowhere on the top where he had the chance to live in peace without having his business blasted for everyone to know.

It wasn’t any easier once he and Velvet parted ways. After giving each other the silent treatment for those months, seeing each other face-to-face outside of prison with no preparation didn’t end well. Rather than having a perfect reunion between two siblings, it was more of a screaming match of who could blame the other the loudest. In the end, they separated and decided being a duo wasn’t worth it anymore. Velvet attempted to do as much damage control as she could, not backing down from topping the charts again. Veneer, however, didn’t see himself doing that for a long time.

While Velvet was determined and had a goal in mind, he was at a loss. And with the pestering Mount Rageons? It was overwhelming. Velvet would have known what to do. She would have a witty response for any rude comment, but he was on his own. Maybe the first task should be to figure out what he wanted for himself, and being somewhere else was what he had in mind.

That left him arriving at Midtown— the midpoint of Mount Rageous. It was a mix of what Mount Rageous had to offer. It had its own nightlife and music, and it had developed its own fashion sense. It blended together and evolved into its own scene. Midtown also happened to be very alternative, which gave it a certain reputation that the top and bottom of Mount Rageous both disliked.

The Midtown Rageons were the type of people his parents warned him against. Midtown was full of Rageons who did substances much worse than trolls. Emos, scene kids, and other alternative Rageons—the Rageons you shouldn’t associate with—ruled the streets, and it was partially true. It was full of that to a certain extent, and Veneer wasn't necessarily a fan of it. It was a little intimidating, and he was such a fish out of water. This would have been considered very scandalous at the top. If he was still on the charts, the fact he was in Midtown wouldn’t have slid with the public.

Although, he wasn’t on the top. How much left did he really have to lose? The good thing regarding Midtown was what happened there would stay there. Hardly anyone cared about who he was and pressed further if they recognized him. Plus, nobody was going to rat him out to any big tabloids. He was safe, but he was playing it too safe.

While Veneer didn’t have a lot of close friends at the top (he didn’t even have five best friends), he didn't have anyone in Midtown. Veneer mostly stayed cooped up inside, living vicariously through scrolling on social media and imagining himself in those cool and lively places he saw online. It was honestly depressing, but he hated to put himself out there and end up feeling worse than he did. He probably would have stayed this way, becoming some sort of shut-in, until he heard a song on the local radio.

Most of the radio served as background noise. After all, it was mainly emos trying too hard with their voices singing about emotions and their first break-up followed by a generic guitar riff. It was boring. It was similar to the radio up at the top of Mount Rageous, playing the same five songs over again, and they all sounded the same. This Midtown radio station was that but emo and worse, but when a specific song played in the afternoon, it sounded different.

Let it go. There's no way you can save it now. Get back, you know that the city is burning. So the story goes…

While the instrumental was kind of catchy, he almost turned off his brain to this music and continued scrolling on his phone.

'Cause if we're trapped and we're never gonna find a way out. Get out. We're gonna dance now.

As the song got started, he was caught off guard. Dance music?! He hardly believed it until he began to pay attention. It seemed as though every Midtown Rageon was way too uptight to loosen up and dance, something he missed even though the top was probably more uptight.

Heyyyyy, Mr. DJ! You gotta put a record onnn, yeahhh. We're gonna bury this town tonightttt. We're gonna dance all nightttt!

Whoever was singing’s voice made Veneer cringe at first, but it wasn’t bad. He was willing to take any kind of dance music at this point. Maybe there was some ironic enjoyment from whoever this was. Despite wanting to hate it, he found himself actually listening.

As it ended, he listened as the radio host announced this song would be performed at the upcoming Emo Nite. He wouldn’t imagine himself ever being caught alive at one of those events, but he caved in. It was better than staying cooped up inside for the rest of his life.

So, Veneer went. As he stood near the wall of the venue, he saw it— Sisky fucking Scene. The upcoming singer in Midtown. The scenester. But it was most notably not a Mount Rageon. With its hard wooden skin, hinged jaw, sharp teeth, joints, and sharp angles, only Midtown would ever have this thing casually move in and start a whole-ass career. In spite of Mount Rageous’s effort to be friendly with the other species around, they wouldn’t dare ever have someone not a Mount Rageon perform in their venues. Yet, Sisky stood there singing with other Rageons providing the music and looking as if it owned the stage.

Heyyyyy, Mr. DJ! You gotta put a record onnn, yeahhh. We're gonna dance tonightttt. Dance tonightttt!

Some Rageons would have opted to simply stand in place as they sang. Others might have done basic choreography they practiced way ahead of time. Sisky went for neither of those and did what Veneer could only describe as it doing whatever it wanted, which included groping the keytarist and then crawling on all fours around her.

“What a freak…” he mumbled underneath his breath, thinking out loud.

Despite it doing too much and a handful of the audience giving the wooden creature a disgusted look, Veneer didn’t look away. There was something so wrong yet so right with it.

I let you go, and I'm still waiting for you to find there’s nothing more that this town that is right now. So the story goes…

Never once did Sisky glance over into the crowd and ever hesitate at doing the shit it did on stage. It did every weird little dance move and weird position with the widest smile. It was so unabashedly itself. While Veneer wasn’t as freaky as it, he had to admire it in some strange way. He wished he couldn’t care about anything in the world like it did. Because for every look of disgust in the crowd, there were a handful of Rageons who jumped up and down excitedly as they drunkenly sang along. They cheered for the scenester.

It makes you wonder ‘cause time is up, and you're never gonna get another chance now. You've gotta dance now!

Veneer watched it on stage with a goofy grin on his face. Despite the persona Sisky Scene put out to the crowd going against everything he previously lived by, he was obsessed.

Every strange thing was done by its own free will. He didn’t take his eyes off of it, but he found himself in a trance, as if he had been hypnotized. He never found himself this obsessed over live music, but something drew him to it. Even when it was humping the drum set to the drummer’s straight-up confusion, he stared starry-eyed at it.

Suddenly, as Sisky’s gaze scanned through the crowd, its eyes suddenly locked onto someone. Its pupils dilated as it focused on who it was staring at. Veneer felt himself freeze in place. He had that sensation of feeling as though he was being perceived.

He whispered to no one in particular, “It can’t be…”

There were so many Rageons around him. He couldn’t think of himself as the main character, but Sisky’s eyes were perfectly angled to be looking at least in its direction. Sisky then bit down on its lip with its forked tongue poking out, doing the okay symbol upwards with its hand as it gestured toward it at whoever it was looking at. Whatever that meant. Sisky then went back to doing its usual shit on stage.

Veneer didn’t want to act as if it was doing those hand gestures for him, but if he pretended hard enough it was, well, he was already swooning. That guy was… surprisingly hot.

Let it go, the game is done. Camera's off. It can't be too hard to fake it now. Gotta fake it now Let it go, there’s no way you can change me now. Get back, you know I don't need you to save me. So the story goes…

Veneer left the venue feeling more lively than ever. While he wasn’t ever dancing to this shit, listening to actual dance music improved his spirits. He actually planned on staying out and checking out what places were open around this strip of Midtown. By allowing himself mindlessly to wander around and do whatever his heart desired, he saw maybe Midtown wasn’t mid. Maybe the reputation it had wasn’t totally true.

As Veneer walked on the sidewalk, following wherever it may lead him, suddenly he felt someone push him to the side. He squeaked out an eek! as he forced himself to regain balance. Veneer groaned, “Hey! Wat—” His annoyed response was cut off as he caught a glimpse of who was rushing busily past him.

With its headphones on blaring loud music, he somewhat heard the lyrics. Let's get freaky now, let's get fucking freaky now. Let's get freaky now, let's get fucking freaky now. Only one wooden thing would be caught alive listening to that type of music. It had a hand on the side of its headphones and the other shoved into its pocket. Veneer watched the back of Sisky Scene as it hurried off. He didn’t have it in him to be angry over getting shoved as he watched it, feeling frozen in place.

Veneer glanced at the ground as he sighed, a part of him yearning to rush after it but unsure how to approach someone like it. What if it started humping his leg like a dog? As he looked down, he saw a small silver piece shining on the ground. He picked it up. It was one of Sisky’s earrings, a lightning bolt-shaped earring.

Veneer held it by the clip as he examined it, huffing. “Clip-on earrings, seriously?” Despite his own personal opinions, he should probably return it to Sisky.

He looked up, seeing it was gone from his line of sight. Veneer sighed as he shoved the earring in his pocket. This gave him an excuse to talk to it, but he wasn’t really sure he would see it again.

Calling it a night, Veneer came back to his apartment. As he laid in bed, despite looking like a creep, he held the silver lightning bolt in his hand. He fidgeted with it, his thumb rubbing up against it. Sisky Scene wore this…

In the morning, with a little more of a positive outlook concerning Midtown, Veneer headed out. Mostly wanting to hang around where his apartment was and not venture too far out into the deeper parts of Midtown, he went to a coffee shop that mildly reminded him of the one he used to go to daily. After attempting to order a coffee that resembled his usual preference (VERY milky and drowned in sweetener), he started to walk off.

Then, suddenly, as Veneer made a sharp turn, he bumped into someone at full force. He yelped as his cup went flying out of his hand. He blinked, startled by this whole ordeal.

“Oh, I’m—”

Veneer’s eyes then shot wide open as he looked at who he happened to bump into. The universe could be so cruel sometimes. In front of him was none other than Sisky fucking Scene. It had fallen on its knees, clutching its crotch. His drink spilled on the most unfortunate spot.

“MY BALLS.” The most unfortunate first words Sisky could’ve said to Veneer.

Veneer shrieked, “OH MY GOSH, ARE YOU OKAY?!” Veneer immediately crouched down next to it. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I’m SO SO sorry.”

Despite the pain it had downstairs, Sisky raised up one of its hands. “Ay, it’s chill. Don’t worry about it, dawg,” it said, its voice surprisingly softer than Veneer imagined.

“No, no, no, it’s NOT good. Um, let me help you!” Veneer straightened up and went over to the counter, grabbing wildly at the napkins. He dropped back on his knees in front of Sisky, pressing the napkins up against the wet spot. He felt the heat of the liquid, and his guilt only intensified. He insisted, “I can at least help you dry off!! I’m—”

“Ummm, ayo, you couldn't have asked for a movie and a dinner first?”

Veneer yelled as he pulled away, only realizing in the moment where he was putting his hands all over. “I’M SO SORRY!!”

Sisky glanced up at Veneer. It then smirked, snickering. “Kinda… sack-religious!” It let out a dramatic groan as it stood up, composing itself. Sisky looked down at Veneer with that smirk. “I’m kinda obsessed with you. I like you. Unfortunately, my everything hurts now.”

Veneer sputtered with his words at first as he gazed up at Sisky, still in shock, but he forced himself to keep it together. Trying to sound casual, he said, “I… still feel bad. At least let me buy something.”

After hearing Veneer continuously babble about how sorry he was, Sisky just laughed, accepting his offering while simultaneously trying to calm the Mount Rageon down. Once he was calm again, Sisky went to sit on one of the shop’s cushioned seats. With its legs spread apart, it presses a room-temperature plastic water bottle against its crotch. It looked weird to Veneer, but he decided against speaking up. Plus, Sisky swore this felt comfortable, so whatever it said would go, he guessed.

Veneer stood in front of Sisky, twiddling his thumbs. He asked, “So, how do you usually take your coffee?”

Sisky shook its head. “Oh, I don’t fuck with coffee. Not my thing.”

“Then… why are you at a coffee shop?” Veneer asked, his tone coming off a little judgmental.

“Cake pop.”

“…Oh!” That wasn’t the answer Veneer was expecting, especially with how edgy Sisky appeared.

It elaborated, “Yeah, you give me several, and I’ll fuck ‘em up. I like to have a couple after I waterboard myself for fun.” Well, Veneer did say he was going to get something for Sisky, and it wasn’t the worst thing it could get. He shouldn’t be judging it so much. It was a different species after all from him.

Veneer returned to the counter, ordering himself another overly sweetened coffee and buying what Sisky wanted as well. After a couple of minutes or so, Veneer returned over to Sisky. He held out five cake pops toward it, perhaps doing too much in an attempt to make up for his accident.

“Here. For you,” he said with a smile.

Sisky grinned, temporarily showing off its sharp teeth. “Ah, dope! Thanks!” Sisky snatched them from Veneer. He proceeded to watch as Sisky ate all of them without even having to bite down, which included the sticks.

Veneer was mesmerized, but he snapped out of his dazed state as he took a seat next to Sisky, trying to look casual as he sipped at his drink. From Veneer’s dating experience, Sisky was the opposite of his usual dream guy. It lacked anything that would make a guy attractive to him, but Veneer found himself so drawn to it.

Sisky turned to face Veneer. It lifted up a hand, making a fist toward him. “Oh, I’m sorry, my name is Sisky Scene, and I’m pretty much a big deal.”

Veneer flinched as he saw Sisky’s fist, expecting it for some reason to punch him, but it held up its fist toward him. Sisky gave him a confused look but still faintly grinned. “It’s a fist bump,” Sisky clarified.

“Ohhhh.” Veneer sheepishly smiled as he bumped his fist against Sisky’s. He introduced himself. “Well, I’m Veneer!”

Sisky glanced up as it briefly thought. It then gasped. “Ohhh, you sound familiar, but you also look familiar too. Like I should know you from somewhere.”

Veneer confidently smirked. “I was actually at—”

“Wait, no, I remember!” Sisky gleefully exclaimed, “You’re the guy who moved from the top to here. Arrested for troll huffing! That’s you!”

FUCK. The smirk from his face dropped. He was hoping it didn’t know anything about him. Veneer took a deep breath. “Yes, that’s me, and I was arrested for JUSTIFIABLE reasons because I was literally taking part in torturing and using little trolls.”

“Oooh, sick.”

“…that bad?”

“Noooo, the good kind of sick! That’s gnarly, man.” Sisky snorted as it crossed its legs, resting its chin on its free hand. “Y’know, where I’m from, we used to smoke trolls. We burned them ‘til they were ashes, and then we smoked ‘em up! We didn’t do it for any benefits. I think that shit straight up killed my grandma. That’s what too many country trolls can do to you. Weak-ass hag.”

Holy fuck… Veneer gawked at Sisky as it spoke so casually. He thought what he and Velvet did to the trolls was bad enough, but Sisky made them nearly appear as way softer. Yikes!

Sisky snickered. “Haha, yeah, so we had to stop.”

“Oh… okay.”

“But it’s cool to meet ya,” Sisky hummed as its expression softened as it looked fully over at Veneer.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Veneer paused before he asked, “Are you, uh, fine with questions?”

Sisky nodded. “Sure, shoot.”

Veneer took a long sip from his cup, trying to mentally come up with the right way to phrase his question. “…What are you?”

Sisky answered, “Well, I’m half-Cambrodian on my mom’s side—”

“No, I’m not asking in that way. I mean, like, species… wise? Because you’re obviously not a Mount Rageon.”

“All wooden,” it boasted as it lightly knocked on the side of its head. “Hundred percent wooden puppet.”

Veneer’s eyes widened in awe. “Wait, really? I thought those didn’t exist!”

Sisky snickered. It questioned, “Do I look like I don’t exist?”

You seem like someone I dreamt up. “No, you exist! You’re real!” Veneer thought for a second before he asked further, “So, why did you come here to Mount Rageous?”

A brief look of excitement appeared in Sisky’s eyes. It wasted no time getting straight into its story. “Welllll, it’s a long story. I used to be part of this crunk-ass duo before my other guy decided he was BETTER than me, and we split up. So, now I’m thinking about what I’m gonna be doing for the rest of my life. Doing troll taxidermy in your childhood bedroom won’t get you far. And then I go on this spiritual exodus with my close homie. I took a little something beforehand, and I ended up on my own out there.”

Most of the words didn’t hold any meaning for Veneer, but he continued to listen closely, drinking his coffee as he ogled at Sisky.

“And I suddenly got my shit rocked. And after I got knocked out and rose from the dead, the space cobra descended from space.”

Veneer blinked. “…the what?”

“The space cobra!” Sisky beamed, as though repeating it would help Veneer understand its nonsense. “It pulled me into Its space realm into its spaceship, but it was a star too or something. I dunno, but it was cool as shiz.”

“Like a cobra starship?” Veneer chortled.

“Ohhh, totally! Fer sure. And while I was in that thing, this space cobra, It gave me a mission! It gave me a sign to come to Mount Rageous,” Sisky explained, “to teach you Mount Rageons how to stop taking yourselves so seriously and to stop being pussies. Someone has to teach you guys how to dance.”

“Wow, that’s, like, totally insane what you said but also TOTALLY incredible. You’re incredible,” Veneer cooed, not believing a word of what Sisky said.

Sisky chuckled as it posed with its hands palm down underneath its chin. It purred, “Aw, you flatter me, baby.”

Veneer felt like he was about to choke on his own spit as he regained himself. As his eyes fell on its ear that noticeably lacked its usual earring, he then remembered.

“Oh, um, yesterday, I saw you on the streets, and you dropped this,” he muttered. Veneer reached into his pocket as he held out the dangling lightning bolt-shaped silver earring.

Sisky raised an eyebrow. “You were holding on to that?

Veneer sputtered with his words before Sisky smirked. It boasted, “I know, my fashion sense is immaculate. I learned that word yesterday.” Sisky took the earring from Veneer as it attempted to evenly try to reattach it to its ear. It struggled, always having to clip it off and try again when it felt it was on lopsided.

“Here! Let me help you!” Veneer reached up once he placed his cup on the table, taking the earring out of Sisky’s grasp. He gently cupped the side of Sisky’s face as he perfectly clipped the earring on. Sisky silently stared at him, a little taken aback.

“Clip-ons are soooo annoying honestly. That’s why I pierce my ear and think that’s the superior way of wearing earrings,” Veneer yapped.

Sisky poked at its wooden ear as it interjected, “Well, um, I’m wood. I’m not taking a drill through any of my parts again.”

“Oh, right! Right… my bad.” Veneer lowered his head.

Sisky laughed as it flicked at its newly attached earring, watching as it swung back and forth. It then looked over at Veneer as it spoke. “Listen, I gotta go. I actually have to take a shit. But you’re fun. I like you. Lemme give you my number, and we can talk later, yeah?”

Veneer nodded way more eagerly than he would have wanted to. “Yeah! I’d love that!” Veneer reached into his pocket, ready to whip out his phone, until it dawned on him. He forgot his phone. He grimaced, horrified at himself for messing this up so badly. “I don’t… have my phone.”

“It’s cool, man. I got it,” it reassured. Sisky then ripped off whatever was left of the sleeve of its hoodie. Veneer eyeballed it with wide eyes as Sisky reached for a silver sharpie in its pocket. With its forked tongue slightly poked out of its mouth, it focused intensely as it wrote out its number on the black fabric. Sisky held out the fabric toward him. Veneer took it, looking at it as if it was the most precious item in the world.

“See ya around, twink,” Sisky cackled.

Veneer gave the puppet a nervous smile as he watched it leave, keeping his eyes on it until it had left his line of sight. Once it was gone, he gazed down at the piece of fabric. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he thought about what just happened.

Yeah, it’s amazing…

🖤 Divider By: cafekitsune

🖤 Tag List (form, or lmk if you wanna be added/removed in general!): @alucake @clancykisser @dreamilykitty @lovebandit42069 @moorshipping @moxanji-real @rexscanonwife @severants

#ofghhh ive been working on and off on this ever since i thought of rewriting their first meeting..#but yay i did it i finished it :-) !#selfship #selfship community #selfship writing #selfship fic #my writing #🎤#ok to rb

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clancykisser · 12 days ago

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Follow You

Ship: Hail To The King [Axel x Crowley] WC: 1,298 Rating: M CW: Alcoholism . Meltdown . Mentions of Snot and Tears . Angst DIVIDER @/bernardsbendystraws

Summary: After Amara and Chuck leave together, Axel feels abandoned once again. Instead of crying alone on the kitchen floor, however, a demon comes to assure him of something.

come sink into me and let me breathe you in

The bunker was silent. Dimmed lights barely giving a fluorescent glow overhead in the kitchen. In the background, Axel could hear the humming of the runes against the concrete of the walls. It was shrill and pitched, like a refrigerator engine he had become aware of. A migraine warned behind his temples, but it only lead him to press the cup of whiskey-cola to his lips and swallowing back the last sip in the glass. It burned his throat.

But his heart still hurt.

There was no reason to get up from the floor, he had brought the bottles of soda and whiskey with him to the tile. When he mixed the drinks and put the whiskey bottle back down, its glass echoed eerily through the silent space. A pain wormed its way up his throat. He held back a sob.

It played in his mind over and over again, a swirling and liquor tainted video tape looping with a skipping error on the end. It made the replay all the more jostling when the memory chewed on the inside of his eyeballs.

The one where his hands clung to Chuck's, eyes lighting up with tears as he stared. Stared right at the face of God and cried, begged, and hoped with a heavy heart:

"Please. Please don't go."

And he smiled that sad, little, pitying smile. Though his eyes couldn't hide the miniscule hint of emotion that wrinkled at the corner of his eyelids. It gave Axel hope. A hope enough for him to lean closer, to show just how much he wanted to stay with him. Wanted to be with him.

And God put his hand on Axel's cheek, wiping away the tears as his lips trembled.

"Stay here," He murmured, "Stay with Dean. And Sam...And Crowley."

The mention of the demon made Axel tense, his lips going dry as his tears slowed only for a moment before gushing back out again. There was a soft kiss on his head. One final blessing, before God and The Darkness dissipated in the saddest shades of blues and blacks he had ever seen.

His nose was running as he leaned forward over his half finished glass of alcohol. With flushed cheeks and tightly shut eyes, his let his chest heave and swallowed out the saddest cry he could manage. His tears dribbled into his cup, floating in globs with the snot that joined in.

That seemed to be the final straw. With another cry of something between sadness and rage, he chucked the glass at the nearest surface, sending his whiskey dribbling with a menacing shatter of glass.

"FUCK!" He yelled, the sound wet and desperate, "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU CHUCK. FUCK YOU GOD!"

And he glared up at the ceiling, hoping. Praying. That wherever Chuck was he heard this. Axel hoped it hurt.

"You ruined EVERYTHING! If you hadn't just SWIPED ME UP. Before I met CROWLEY. Before-Before-Before-AUGH!"

This time he slammed his fist hard on the counter behind him, hearing the metal thud and his knuckles sting. The alcohol numbed it, though, and it only fueled his fit of drunken rage.

It was a while before he tired himself out, breaths coming heavy and his nose only wetter than before. Raising the back of his palm, he wiped at his face, smearing his long sleeve shirt with snot and tears. A few more pale, blubbering noises left his lips as he shut his eyes tightly, whispering angry words towards a God you didn't even know was still listening.

"You know, you always were an ugly crier."

Axel yelped, turning his head so fast that he made himself dizzy. After a second of clearing his blurry vision, he focused on the visage before him.

Crowley swirled his own whiskey glass in his hand, the clinking of the ice reminding Axel of how damn thirsty he was. He swallowed a dry heave, thick with saliva and sobs. Swiftly he looked away, flushing with shame as he let his head fall back against the counter, falling silent.

Crowley only stepped closer. Close enough to reach out and grabbed the half finished bottle of whiskey, fallen over and cracked at its edge. The wet feeling of liquor soaked Axel's pants, and he felt uneasy at the smell permeating his body. It only added to his self hatred.

"A waste of good liquor, if you ask me. Or-" He glanced quickly at the bottle "-bad liquor. How do you drink this?"

"Works faster." Axel croaked softly, "What are you here for, Crowley?"

To laugh, probably. To tell Axel that he had been right, and now he lost the only other thing he might have enjoyed in this life. What was the point? Maybe he wanted to take his soul for himself. A personal goodbye to the man he had almost said...

"Come on, up you go."

And then Crowley was pulling Axel up to his feet. He swayed, his stomach curdling at the sudden height. Then hands were on his hips, hoisting him up on the counter. The cold steel made the feeling of his whiskey pants even worse.

A hand touched his cheek, cradling it in its palm. Axel shut his eyes, reveling in the chill. It was the hand Crowley had been holding his whiskey in. The cup was somewhere else now. Another counter as a brush of a thumb finally got the drunken man to gaze forward at the demon before him.

To his surprise, Crowley almost looked...He wasn't sure of the word.

Caring? Adoring?

Loving?

"Wh-Wh..." Axel tried to get out words, but they stopped and he hiccupped again. Crowley chuffed, as if knowing the question he had wanted to ask. He answered it after a moment:

"You asked me if I didn't love you anymore, before....I have my answer now."

And then the kiss was flavored like double shot of whiskey and a soda chaser. It wasn't Crowley's rougher kisses. No playful nips. No laughter against Axel's whimpering mouth. This was...

Comforting.

So he melted into the advance for a few moments, hands resting on the other's shoulders as they held themselves there for a few moments longer. It felt like eternity until they finally parted, and Axel could only manage a shocked look on his face.

"I do," He finally stated, "I love you."

"How can you?" Axel snapped out with near immediacy, "How can you love me after everything! Af-after all-ll th-at! After what I did, I-."

Crowley's hands rested on Axel's, pulling them off of his shoulders to squeeze them softly between their bodies. His thumb brushed over Axel's knuckles, one still bright red and swelling from his earlier fit. With a gentle brush, the wound was healed in a near instant.

"Question is," He continued, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know what to do."

"Do whatever you feel like."

Axel was surprised that he didn't stop himself. His eyes held Crowley's for a few moments before he leaned forward. He rested their foreheads together as he shakily sighed. The murmur of his response was a bare whisper. A secret for only them both.

"I never stopped loving you. Even through all of that...You were on my mind."

"Oh?" Crowley's tone was playful, "What kind of thoughts were on your mind?"

It made Axel laugh, his smile breaking on his chapped lips as he pressed himself closer to Crowley.

"Let's get you a shower, luv. You reek."

And it felt nice to be held again.

#axel writes #selfship #self ship #selfshipping #self shipping #self ship writing #selfship writing #yumeart #yume writing #self ship art #selfship art #oc x canon #s/i x canon #supernatural oc #hail to the king #😈💫#alcohol cw

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luceliv · 3 months ago

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I’ve been in a pretty big art slump, so I do apologize. I was gonna add more to this but I felt happy with it how it is for once! Don’t take this as a promise for more stuff though I fear that Marvel Rivals will consume my free time again

“C’mere,” Olivia muttered, not even bothering to look up from her computer. Lucielle was across the room, organizing and marking off odd equipment without a care in the world. The doctor’s words were accompanied by a tentacle slinking over and grabbing the back of her shirt. “Come on…”

Lucy jumps a bit at the feeling, and finally turns when she hears the exhaustion in Olivia’s voice. It was nearing the end of the day, but she was much more tired than usual. Lucielle turns, and when the tentacle doesn’t let go, she gently puts down her pen and walk over. “Everything alright?”

Olivia looks up for a moment, and she takes a deep breath before she speaks. “Yeah, just tired, that’s all,” Her tone is unusually sharp, but not out of rudeness. She sits up in her office chair, the exercise ball she usually perched upon had been rolled to the corner, and stretches her arms out to click send on a final email to Fisk. The tentacle on Lucielle’s back pushes this time, shoving the young woman a little closer to the doctor.

“Hey, that’s ok,” Lucy takes charge, slipping into Olivia’s lap and gently straddling her. Another tentacle slides out of Olivia’s harness and anchors them and the chair to the ground, and the one that was on Lucy’s back lets its body drape over her shoulders. “How about we stop by that new cafe on the way home, you pick something out, and then I can cook for you when we get back.” Her voice is low and soft, undoubtedly to try and soothe her lover. Gentle claws trace over the intricate lines of Olivia’s suit, a sense of reverence in each movement. Olivia leans her head back, her hair puffing up as it’s pressed in.

“You don’t have to do all that, sweetie,” The doctor’s gaze was almost cloudy as her own hand rose to tap the tip of Lucy’s nose. A lazy smile grew on her face at the motion, and her eyes lit up when Lucy instinctively winced. “This is all I wanted.”

Lucielle hums and lays her head on Olivia’s shoulder, practically enveloping her in that sweet hug. Her forehead leans against the chair’s headrest and her warm cheek presses against the cool metal of Olivia’s suit. She lets her eyes flutter shut, soothed by the feeling of her lover’s arms wrapping around her waist. Her attempt at calming Olivia has completely backfired.

#as much as I wanna main tag! I won’t #self ship #selfship #selfship writing #oc x canon #oc x cc #f/o community #f/o #romantic f/o #selkie speaking #༺ Shell & Spine ༻

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moxanji-real · 2 months ago

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♡ “Love at the Floating Restaurant” ♡ (Part 2)

✎ One-Shot, Romance, Slow Burn, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, First Love

✎ One Piece Fanfic, Sanji x OC, Sanji x Self Insert, Baratie Era, Flashbacks

✎ 6.1k Words

Read Part 1 here!

The storm howled above them, wind slamming against the walls of the Baratie’s lower level like a beast clawing to get in. Rain drummed against the ceiling in sheets, thunder rumbling deep and steady, making the walls tremble slightly with every boom.

Everyone had gathered close. Lanterns swung from the ceiling, casting golden light over damp faces and worried expressions. Guests huddled together on the floor, using coats, tablecloths, and each other for warmth.

Moxie sat near the wall, her knees drawn up to her chest, her soaked hair sticking to her cheeks. Sanji settled beside her almost instantly, quiet and watchful, still in his dish-stained clothes and wringing water from his sleeves.

He glanced sideways at her, then slowly—gently—lifted his arm.

She looked at him.

He gave her a soft, almost shy smile. “You cold?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

He shifted closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her carefully into his side. His body was warm—even through the soaked fabric—and the gesture was surprisingly gentle, protective rather than flirty.

She didn’t resist.

Her head rested lightly against his shoulder, and she closed her eyes.

For a moment, everything felt still—just the two of them, wrapped in a tiny sliver of warmth against the storm.

Then—

“Nope.”

A strong hand reached down and yanked Moxie right out of his arms.

“HEY—!” she shouted as she was pulled to her feet like a sack of potatoes.

“Heath!” she snapped, trying to wriggle free.

“No cuddling during natural disasters,” he said flatly. “Especially not with him.”

Sanji stood, about to argue, but Heath gave him a look that could vaporize steel.

“Don’t.”

Grumbling, Moxie let herself get dragged back to her brothers, where they were already forming a redhead cuddle pile in one corner of the room. Bodhi had claimed most of the dry floor with a blanket he’d stolen from somewhere, and Enzo was already curled up beside him with a scowl.

Lionel had rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful, but eventually joined, muttering, “If I get lice, I’m suing.”

Vinny dropped down next, immediately stealing the warmest spot. Dante stayed quiet, pressing his back to the wall and folding his arms like a ghost haunting the scene.

Moxie was plopped down in the middle of them, arms crossed, cheeks red—not from the cold.

She peeked across the shelter.

Sanji was still standing where she’d left him, looking disappointed but trying to play it cool.

Their eyes met.

He winked.

She turned pink all over again.

————————————————————————

Later that night…

The storm still raged above, though the thunder had lessened to a distant rumble. The basement remained packed, everyone curled up and trying to sleep despite the noise and discomfort.

A few candles burned low. The kitchen staff passed around dry towels and mugs of warm broth.

Zeff paced by the door, grumbling about leaks and idiots.

Sanji was now crouched near the far wall, using his jacket as a makeshift pillow. He looked exhausted but alert, his eyes drifting toward Moxie’s corner every few minutes.

Across the room, people were murmuring quietly, discussing where everyone should sleep.

“There’s too many of us in here,” someone muttered. “We’ll suffocate.”

“Then space out the crew in shifts. Guests get priority spots.”

“Anyone got extra blankets?”

“Someone took mine!”

Sanji rubbed his eyes and looked around at the chaos.

And in the middle of it all, Moxie sat awake—still pressed between two snoring brothers, arms hugged around her knees.

Her eyes flicked toward Sanji.

Then back to the crowd.

And an idea started to form.

————————————————————————-

The storm still rolled gently above them, distant thunder rumbling like a lullaby for the restless. The Baratie’s basement was packed with sleeping bodies, the soft shuffle of breath and the occasional snore echoing through the quiet space.

Lanterns hung low, their flames dimmed to embers. Blankets were shared, coats used as makeshift pillows. Everyone was doing their best to sleep through the storm and forget the world above.

Moxie sat among her brothers, knees pulled to her chest, her arms looped loosely around them. She’d been pretending to be asleep for over an hour.

She wasn’t tired.

She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

To her left, Heath shifted. He’d curled up beside her at some point, head resting against her legs. His expression was tense even in sleep, his brows furrowed like he was bracing for something.

Then he whispered, broken and small: “…Mommy… don’t go…”

Moxie’s chest tightened.

A soft tear rolled down from the corner of his eye.

She gently ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it back as he trembled in his sleep. He was always the tough one. The loud one. But when the nightmares came, he became the scared little boy she remembered—lost and hurting, even if he’d never admit it.

“I’m here,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “You’re okay. Just sleep.”

He stilled under her touch, the tension easing slightly.

She watched him for a moment longer.

Then she heard it—a light knock.

Her head snapped up.

Across the room, barely lit by lanternlight, Sanji crouched by a door, looking straight at her. He smiled gently, then held up a finger to his lips and motioned for her to follow.

She hesitated.

Then, carefully, she slid a rolled-up coat under Heath’s head, pat his cheek once more, and slowly crept across the room—avoiding elbows, snores, and one of Bodhi’s legs sticking out like a tripwire.

Sanji opened the door quietly, just enough for them to slip into a dark, narrow hallway.

They walked together in silence.

The air was still and quiet down here, muffled by walls and the storm above. Sanji stopped in front of an old wooden door tucked between shelves of wine barrels.

He looked back at her with a small smile.

“I wanna show you something.”

She raised a brow.

He opened the door and led her inside.

The space was small and dusty—clearly some kind of unused storage closet—but there were signs of life here. A few stacked crates formed a makeshift seat, and atop one was a small oil lamp, flickering gently. There were tattered cookbooks, folded linens, and—strangely—several hand-drawn maps pinned to the back wall. Seas, current charts, even creature sketches. A rolled-out mat in the corner suggested he’d napped here once or twice.

“This is… your hideout?” Moxie asked.

Sanji nodded, proud. “Zeff doesn’t know. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t care. Either way—it’s mine.”

He stepped forward and grabbed a box from the corner.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly bashful. “I’ve never told you this before.”

She tilted her head. “Told me what?”

“My dream.”

Her breath caught.

He opened the box and pulled out a bundle of old papers, some worn and yellowed, others clearly drawn by hand. He laid them out on the crate like precious artifacts.

Maps. Fish catalogs. Sketches of exotic sea creatures. Photographs from old cookbooks showing markets and fish ports from around the world.

And in the center—a hand-drawn image of a lush, glittering sea, filled with multicolored fish and strange waters. At the top, scrawled in messy but excited handwriting: The All Blue.

“This is it,” he said, eyes shining. “My dream. The All Blue.”

Moxie leaned in, eyes wide.

“I collect anything I can find,” he continued, voice fast with excitement. “Old sailor stories, busted cookbooks, scraps from merchant ships—anything that even mentions it. I know most people don’t believe it’s real, but I do. I have to. It’s the one thing I know will make everything worth it.”

She looked up at him.

He was practically glowing, lit by the soft lamp and the fire of his own belief.

“I don’t want it for money,” he said. “Or even fame. I just… want to cook with ingredients no one’s ever seen before. I want to build a restaurant that welcomes everyone. Doesn’t matter where they’re from or what they’ve been through. If they’re hungry, I’ll feed them.”

Moxie blinked hard, her throat tightening.

“That’s beautiful,” she said softly.

Sanji rubbed the back of his neck again, bashful. “I probably sound dumb.”

“You don’t,” she whispered.

He looked at her again, his voice quieter now. “You’re the first person I’ve shown all this to.”

Her breath caught.

She looked down at the map of the All Blue, then back up at the boy who believed in it more than anything.

And for the first time since she left the table hours ago… she felt okay again.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out to touch one of the drawings. “For showing me.”

Sanji smiled.

And somehow, in that tiny hidden room, lit by a single flickering lamp and surrounded by scraps of a dream, it felt like the world had gotten a little smaller.

And a little more magical.

The tiny storage room glowed gently with the soft flicker of the oil lamp, casting warm shadows over the messy pile of maps and sketches. Moxie leaned against a crate, her eyes heavy, still smiling faintly from everything Sanji had shown her.

He sat beside her now, a little closer than before, his long legs stretched out, one arm resting behind her in a subtle, protective way. The air between them felt lighter now. Safe. Honest.

But eventually, exhaustion crept in.

She yawned, eyes fluttering. “I should go back…”

Sanji nodded, though his expression dimmed slightly. “You’ll be missed if you’re gone too long. Especially by your attack dogs.”

She giggled sleepily.

“I’m serious,” he said with mock drama. “I’d like to keep my face intact.”

Moxie rolled her eyes but stood up, pausing just before the door.

She looked at him one more time. “Thank you, Sanji. For… all of it.”

He gave her a soft smile. “You ever need a place to hide, you know where to find me.”

And with that, she slipped out.

———————————————————————-

Back in the basement, the warmth of sleep had settled over the room like a heavy blanket. Most of the guests and staff were curled into corners, using anything and everything to keep warm and dry.

Moxie tiptoed back to her brothers’ corner, heart still fluttering from the closeness and the dream-sharing. Heath was still sound asleep on the makeshift pillow she’d left, snoring softly now. Enzo was curled into a dramatic little ball, arms wrapped around a stuffed crab toy someone had clearly stolen from the Baratie gift shelf.

Vinny was drooling. Again.

Without waking anyone, she slipped back into the middle of the redhead pile.

As she got comfortable, her back pressed lightly to someone else’s.

Dante.

She didn’t realize he was awake until his quiet, cool voice cut through the dark.

“I know where you went.”

She froze.

A long pause.

Then—“I saw you sneak out.”

She turned slightly to look at him. He wasn’t facing her, but his silver-lined eye was open, fixed on the opposite wall.

Her heart skipped a beat.

But before she could panic, he added, almost lazily, “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything.”

She blinked. “You’re not mad?”

Dante gave a small, rare smile. “I’m not your keeper. Just don’t let Heath see you glowing like that or he’ll blow a fuse.”

Moxie let out a tiny laugh and laid back down, her cheeks warm.

“Thanks, Dante.”

“Sleep, Mox.”

————————————————————————

The next morning

The sun hadn’t even fully risen when the yelling started.

Moxie was jostled awake by the chaos erupting above—shouts, loud stomps, the creak of the Baratie groaning as people moved around in a frenzy.

“What the hell is going on?” Vinny groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Is it another storm?” Enzo mumbled, still clinging to his stuffed crab.

“No,” Lionel muttered as he sat up and pushed his glasses onto his nose. “Something’s wrong.”

Within minutes, the doors to the basement were opened, and guests began scrambling upstairs.

Moxie followed with her brothers, all of them blinking against the harsh morning light that poured in from the restaurant’s upper level.

The scene was chaos.

Guests were yelling. Waiters were arguing. A chef was trying to calm a crying child while three men stood at the windows with pale faces.

“What happened?” Heath barked to no one in particular.

A Baratie staff member ran past shouting, “The storm blew out the docking tethers! Most of the ships are gone!”

“Gone?!” someone screamed.

“The current must’ve pulled them out to sea overnight,” another added, breathless. “There’s debris floating a mile off the east side—we think some were destroyed completely!”

“MY SHIP!” a merchant wailed. “I HAD SPICES FROM WANO ON THAT SHIP!”

“I LEFT MY DOG ON BOARD!”

The entire restaurant shook with rising panic.

Moxie stood frozen, eyes wide, as the truth set in: everyone—her, her brothers, every single guest—was stuck here.

Zeff stomped into the middle of the chaos, looking as calm and irritated as ever. “Alright, shut up, all of you!” he snapped.

The room went quiet.

He shoved a towel over one shoulder and scowled. “I’ve already put out a long-distance call for ships to come retrieve everyone. But you’ll have to wait.”

“For how long?!” someone cried.

“A week, minimum.”

The room exploded.

A full-blown tantrum of shouting, pacing, crying, and panic spread like wildfire through the restaurant.

“Where are we supposed to sleep?!”

“I have a wedding in two days!”

“Do you know how long it takes to restock saffron?!”

Zeff simply crossed his arms. “Suck it up. You’ll live.”

Moxie stood near the railing, her brothers groaning around her.

“Great,” Lionel muttered. “A whole week stuck in this floating food court.”

“This is the worst,” Lysander said dramatically.

“I bet they won’t even let us order dessert twice,” Enzo added.

Heath was already mentally calculating what supplies they had.

But Moxie?

She was trying so hard not to smile.

Because in the middle of all the complaining…

She’d just gotten a whole week more with Sanji.

———————————————————————-

Moxie stood near the railing of the Baratie’s main deck, sunlight spilling across her face, the wind still wet with the storm’s aftershocks. All around her, people were panicking—complaining, pacing, some demanding refunds despite the floating restaurant not being responsible for the weather.

But she didn’t care about any of that.

Because she was staying.

And so was he.

Her hands fidgeted at her sides, her heart thudding like a drum. She scanned the crowd—and then she saw him.

Sanji was across the dining floor, apron tied lazily at his waist, a tray under one arm as he tried (and failed) to calm a table of screaming merchants.

He looked up—and his eyes met hers.

She smiled.

And he lit up like a sunrise.

He practically flew across the restaurant, dodging a waiter, a crying kid, and someone trying to throw a chair in frustration. His tray hit a table with a loud clunk as he abandoned it mid-service.

“Moxie-Moon!” he beamed, reaching her in record time. “Please tell me you’re not one of the people demanding a ship right now.”

“Nope,” she said, almost breathless from how fast he got to her. “I’m stuck here.”

He blinked.

“Stuck?” he echoed. “Like… here here? A whole week?”

She nodded.

His grin exploded.

“I knew the storm had a silver lining!” he said, practically bouncing in place. “This is the best weather disaster I’ve ever lived through.”

Before she could say anything else, he stepped in and hugged her—arms wrapping around her tightly, warm and real and full of excitement.

Moxie’s eyes went wide.

Her brain short-circuited.

Because Sanji was hugging her.

In public.

In front of everyone.

He squeezed her close for a second longer than necessary, then pulled back just enough to look at her face.

“We have seven whole days,” he said, like he’d just been given the keys to heaven. “Do you know how many pastries I can sneak you in that time?”

Her cheeks were burning.

“I—I don’t—”

“Come on!” he grinned. “Before someone tries to make you sit through a storm debrief or an allergy form.”

And with that, he grabbed her hand and started running—pulling her across the deck, down a hallway, past a screaming toddler, and away from the chaos like they were escaping a prison.

Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

And behind them…

“NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!” Zeff bellowed.

————————————————————————-

Meanwhile, back at the Delahaye table:

“Well that didn’t take long,” Lionel muttered, watching them bolt off with a deadpan stare.

“They’re literally running into the sunset,” Lysander said. “Disgusting.”

Dante sipped from a cup he didn’t remember holding and calmly stated, “She’s in love.”

“Did anyone approve this relationship?” Heath growled, arms crossed, eyes locked on the direction they disappeared. “We should make a list of rules.”

“Rule number one,” Lionel said, adjusting his glasses, “no more hiding in kitchens.”

“Rule number two,” Enzo added, flipping open his sketchbook, “I’m drawing them. Constant surveillance.”

“Rule number three,” Bodhi said, holding a fork like a sword, “if he hurts her, we riot.”

“Unspoken rule number four,” Dante murmured. “We’re going to lose this fight.”

The table went quiet.

Because they all knew he was right.

————————————————————————

Sanji didn’t let go of Moxie’s hand once as they raced through the Baratie. Her laughter echoed through the corridors, breathless and bright, barely dodging around a waiter carrying soup and a sailor swearing about a torn boot.

It wasn’t until they were behind the swinging doors of the kitchen that they finally stopped—panting, eyes wide, faces glowing from the run and the way their hands were still so tightly laced together.

“Okay,” Sanji said between breaths, eyes crinkling with joy, “I’ve officially committed about five health code violations.”

Moxie giggled. “Worth it.”

They were in one of the back pantries now—a warm, spice-scented space where the sounds of the storm and angry guests were muffled by flour sacks and stacked crates.

Sanji leaned against the counter, his free hand running through his messy blond hair, eyes fixed on her like she was something glowing in the dim kitchen light.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said quietly. “A whole week. With you.”

Her smile softened.

“I guess the storm wasn’t all bad.”

They stood there for a moment—no chaos, no brothers, no Zeff yelling from across the dining hall. Just the two of them, hearts thudding loud in their chests, everything soft and still.

Sanji’s voice dropped, lower now. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you since the second you walked in here.”

Moxie’s breath caught.

He took a slow step forward. “And now I get seven days to fall even harder.”

————————————————————————-

The week that followed unfolded like something out of a fairytale.

Whenever Sanji wasn’t on dish duty—or could sneak away without Zeff noticing—he found Moxie.

Sometimes in the early mornings, when the mist still hugged the deck and the world was quiet. Sometimes after lunch, tucked away in a booth by the window with a shared plate of sweets between them. And often—most often—in his secret little hideout behind the wine barrels, where the lanternlight danced over maps of the All Blue and dreams too big to say out loud.

Sanji cooked for her constantly.

Small things at first—pastries stuffed with fruit, delicate little tarts with her initials drawn in icing. But then he got bolder. More daring. Spiced dishes. Roasted sea clams in garlic butter. A flakey almond cake he called “Moxie-Moonlight Delight” and refused to explain.

“You’re gonna spoil me,” she teased one afternoon, licking honey off her thumb.

“That’s the plan,” he said, chin propped on his hand, watching her like she was his favorite painting.

She called him insane. He called her irresistible.

He started calling her his “personal taste tester” and made a whole ceremony out of presenting her meals with fake trumpets and bows that made her laugh until she snorted.

And in return, Moxie gave him things no one else did.

She listened—really listened—when he spoke about the All Blue. She didn’t laugh at the old maps or the hand-scribbled notes. She asked questions. She pointed to sea currents and said, “What if it’s hidden here?” like she actually believed it too.

She let him ramble about spices and fish bones and why certain flavors made people feel comforted.

And when he asked about her, she hesitated.

But she opened up.

One late afternoon, lying on their backs in his hideout, Moxie stared up at the low, wooden ceiling and said, “If I wasn’t a sailor… I think I’d want to be an actress.”

Sanji turned his head. “You?”

She nodded. “Yeah. My dad was one. Famous, too.”

“Really?”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He travels a lot. Big shows. Important places.”

Sanji didn’t press.

He saw the flicker of something sad behind her lashes. He didn’t know that her dad had died years ago. That she’d been pretending he was still alive ever since, just to make the grief hurt a little less.

He just smiled softly.

“You’d be perfect,” he said. “I’d pay to watch you on stage.”

She looked at him, eyes bright. “You think so?”

“I think you’d steal the show.”

Her cheeks turned red. She turned away quickly and muttered, “Shut up…”

“Never,” he whispered.

————————————————————————

At night, she returned to the cuddle pile of her red haired brothers, but her mind was always somewhere else. Even when Enzo snored in her ear and Bodhi accidentally smacked her in his sleep, her thoughts drifted to stolen glances and the feeling of Sanji’s lips brushing gently against the back of her

And from the corner of the room, her brothers watched.

Every moment. Every side smile. Every time she blushed so hard she had to hide her face.

They didn’t say anything.

Not yet.

But Heath glared a lot.

Lionel wrote an entire page titled: “Signs My Sister Is Being Corrupted by a Flamboyant Fry Cook.”

Dante just said, “It’s happening.”

Vinny paced dramatically.

Bodhi was too busy asking for more snacks.

And Enzo?

He drew little hearts around every new sketch of Sanji and Moxie.

Somewhere between flour dusted kisses and late night dreams, they fell in love.

Not loudly. Not with fireworks.

But slowly.

Sweetly.

Like warmth filling the spaces they didn’t know were empty.

————————————————————————

The final day on the Baratie started like a dream.

The sky was a perfect stretch of blue, the ocean calm and glassy. The chaos of the past week had faded into a warm rhythm—guests chatting quietly, meals being served in calm waves, and somewhere in the middle of it all, Moxie and Sanji, living in their own little world.

They were inseparable.

Sanji had made her breakfast—again. Something sweet and warm with vanilla glaze drizzled like ribbons across a stack of thin pancakes. Moxie called him insane. He called her perfect. He kissed her hand three times before lunch.

They sat on the edge of the outer walkway together, legs dangling over the water, arms brushing every now and then. He let her pick the music that played softly from the kitchen radio. She showed him how to braid hair with three loose strands of rope.

They talked about the kind of weddings they liked.

Fairy tale ones. Big ones. Beach ones.

Moxie liked the idea of a dramatic rooftop kiss.

Sanji nearly passed out when she said that.

But just as he leaned in closer, as the breeze picked up and Moxie’s hair brushed across his cheek—

BANG!

The kitchen door slammed open.

“OI!” Zeff’s voice bellowed from above. “THE BOATS ARE HERE!”

The moment shattered.

Moxie’s body stiffened. Her breath caught. “What?”

“Ships pulled in an hour ago,” Zeff shouted again. “Start packing it up! Everyone out by sundown!”

Behind them, a loud, triumphant cheer erupted from the main deck.

“THANK GOD!” Lionel shouted.

“WE’RE FINALLY FREE!” Enzo screamed with his arms in the air.

“I’M NEVER EATING SEAFOOD AGAIN!” Vinny added dramatically.

Bodhi cried because he thought this meant no more free milkshakes.

But Moxie?

She just stared at the horizon.

Her stomach dropped like a stone.

“No,” she whispered.

Sanji turned to her.

Her lip trembled. Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to leave.”

And then the tears came—hot and fast, spilling before she could stop them. “I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want to say goodbye.”

Sanji’s heart broke on the spot.

He reached for her, holding her tightly as the wind picked up around them.

“You don’t have to forget,” he whispered into her hair. “You don’t have to pretend this didn’t happen.”

“I don’t want to go,” she cried.

“I don’t want you to either.”

They stood there like that for a long moment—her face buried in his chest, his hands cradling the back of her head like she was something too precious to let go.

————————————————————————-

Later, as the sun began to sink low, the crew of the Blazing Beast was prepping their things and boarding the smaller ship docked beside the Baratie.

Moxie lingered at the edge of the pier, facing Sanji, the golden light turning her hair to fire.

He stood close.

Closer than he had all week.

Her hand was still in his. Neither of them had spoken in a while, afraid that saying the wrong thing would break whatever spell was left.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, voice trembling.

“Then don’t,” he replied softly.

They looked at each other—eyes locked, the world fading around them. Her heart beat like a drum. His hand was shaking just slightly.

“…Thank you,” she said, swallowing hard. “For being the first man I ever fell in love with.”

Sanji’s breath caught.

Her fingers tightened around his.

“I’ll never forget you.”

She looked at him one last time—and then surged forward.

This time, she didn’t hold back.

Her hands found his collar. She kissed him hard—fiercely, like the moment was slipping away with every heartbeat. Her lips pressed against his with all the panic, all the sweetness, all the emotion that had built up over the week. It was messy, breathless, too fast—but it was real.

Sanji didn’t even have time to react.

She pulled away in a flash—eyes wide, face flushed, breathing hard.

He stood there, completely still. Eyes wide. Lips parted. Hands frozen midair like he’d forgotten how to use them.

Moxie turned and ran, before he could say a word. Before she could change her mind. Before her legs gave out under the weight of how much it hurt.

She didn’t look back.

Didn’t see him still standing there, blinking in shock, the wind catching his hair.

Didn’t hear the quiet, awestruck whisper that slipped from his lips.

“…That was my first kiss.”

————————————————————————

Up on deck, Dante stood leaning against the mast, arms crossed, his single visible eye half-lidded beneath his bangs. The wind caught his coat just slightly, and his expression—as always—was unreadable.

But he’d seen everything.

The way Moxie ran after kissing Sanji like her heart might fall out of her chest. The stunned look on Sanji’s face. The way her hands trembled when she reached the ship. The way she wiped her eyes quickly, trying to pretend nothing had happened.

She boarded in silence, her shoulders squared too tightly, her jaw clenched.

And Dante was there.

Waiting.

She hadn’t even noticed him until he moved—pushing off the mast with a soft exhale, his boots quiet against the deck.

He stopped beside her, not looking at her right away.

“Nice kiss,” he said, voice casual, soft.

Moxie froze mid-step.

Her heart lurched. “You—”

He turned his head just slightly, enough for her to see that calm little smile tug at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “I won’t tell Heath.”

Moxie exhaled, the tension slipping from her shoulders like a weight finally dropped. She looked down at her boots, trying to steady her breathing.

“…Thank you,” she whispered, voice raw.

Dante watched her for a beat longer, then looked back out at the sea.

“Looked like he was your first too,” he said simply, not teasing—just observing.

She didn’t respond.

Didn’t nod. Didn’t deny it.

She just stood there, staring at the wooden floor of the ship with tears still clinging to her lashes.

And Dante didn’t press.

He just gave a faint nod, like that was all he needed, and turned to walk away—quiet, steady, and chill as ever.

He never said another word.

And Moxie never forgot that he knew—and kept it just between them.

————————————————————————

That night, the Blazing Beast slipped quietly into the open sea, its black silhouette cutting through the waves beneath a silver moon. The sails swelled with the night wind, glowing pale in the fading dusk, like ghostly wings guiding them farther and farther away from the floating restaurant behind them.

Inside her small cabin, tucked near the back of the ship, Moxie lay curled up on her bed. The walls creaked softly with the sway of the ship, but the usual comfort she found in the sound was gone tonight.

She was small against the blankets—knees tucked tight to her chest, her face half-buried in the crook of her arm. Her bright green eyes were red and swollen from crying, her lashes heavy with leftover tears she hadn’t managed to wipe away.

In her hand, clutched like a lifeline, was Sanji’s handkerchief.

It was soft now, worn from being held so tightly all week. Wrinkled. Slightly damp from her tears. But it still smelled faintly like him—like flour and tobacco and cinnamon and something kind and fleeting.

She buried her face into it.

And the sob caught in her throat before she could stop it.

She cried.

Not the loud kind. Not the desperate, heartbroken kind. But the slow, aching kind—the kind that seeps into your chest and settles like a memory that refuses to leave.

She wasn’t crying because it ended.

She was crying because it had happened.

Because it had been real.

Because for one wild, beautiful week, someone had looked at her like she was worth the whole sky. Had kissed her hand like it was sacred. Had listened to her talk about dreams and fairy tales and hadn’t laughed or rolled his eyes or told her to be realistic.

She’d never felt like that before.

Loved like that.

Seen like that.

And even though she knew this wasn’t goodbye forever…

…part of her still felt like she’d left a piece of her heart behind on that floating restaurant.

No matter how far they sailed.

No matter how much time passed.

Her first love would always taste like sea salt, sugar, and the warmth of a hand that never made her feel small.

————————————————————————

Far behind them, barely a speck against the open sea, the Baratie floated beneath the stars.

Sanji stood alone at the edge of the deck, his coat fluttering softly in the wind. The moonlight turned his hair to gold. His hands rested against the railing, his fingers brushing slowly over his lips—still tingling from the kiss he hadn’t seen coming.

He hadn’t kissed her back.

There hadn’t been time.

But he’d felt it.

All of it.

The panic. The love. The ache.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the sea breeze.

“…Moxie,” he whispered.

And the wind carried her name into the night.

————————————————————————

Back in the present…

The Blazing Beast sailed into view, casting a long, imposing shadow over the waves as it approached the familiar sight of the Baratie. Its hull gleamed darkly under the sun, marked by the fierce family crest of the Delahaye Pirates—infamous across the sea for their strength, brutality, and sibling-only crew.

At the helm stood Heath Delahaye, the eldest, his charismatic grin both welcoming and dangerously sharp. His brothers gathered behind him, already bickering loudly, red hair catching sunlight like flames.

But it was the woman standing at the bow who drew every eye.

Moxie Delahaye stepped onto the deck with the confidence of someone who’d conquered countless seas. Her long, layered, spiky hair framed her face, a bold red lipstick catching the sunlight along with the bright purple eyeliner around her intense green eyes. Two purple X-shaped markings sat beneath her right eye, vibrant and unmistakable.

She wore a fitted black crop top, accentuating her powerful frame. A loose purple scarf wrapped around her neck, fluttering in the sea breeze, matched perfectly with sleek purple gloves that ran up her arms. Golden skull earrings dangled from her ears, heirlooms from her father she’d worn every single day.

Her thighs—strong, toned, and muscular—commanded attention with every step she took. She walked differently now. She looked powerful. Dangerous.

But folded in her gloved hand, she still held something soft, worn, and treasured:

Sanji’s old handkerchief.

Behind her, the Delahaye siblings exploded into chaos as usual.

“If they don’t have cake, I’m blowing something up,” Lysander announced.

“I want seafood! No, candy!” Bodhi shouted, waving his nunchucks wildly.

“You are a walking headache,” Lionel muttered, pushing his glasses up.

“At least pretend we have class,” Enzo sighed, tugging his hoodie lower. “You’re embarrassing.”

Dante watched silently, eyes calm beneath his eyepatch.

“Behave, children,” Heath drawled. “We’re guests, after all.”

The moment they stepped onto the Baratie’s deck, the atmosphere changed instantly.

Guests froze mid-bite. Staff halted mid-stride. Plates rattled as a waiter nearly stumbled backward.

The Delahaye Pirates had returned.

But Moxie barely noticed the stares.

She was already scanning the restaurant, her chest tight, her heart racing beneath her calm exterior. She searched every corner, every booth, every face.

He wasn’t there.

Slowly, she made her way toward someone familiar—someone older, gruffer, and exactly as intimidating as she remembered:

Zeff.

He stood at the edge of the kitchen doorway, arms folded, a quiet confidence in his eyes as he met hers.

She didn’t hesitate. “Where is he?”

Zeff studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, and then he spoke gently, but vaguely:

“He’s not here anymore.”

Her stomach twisted. “What do you mean, ‘not here’?”

Zeff’s voice softened just a bit more. “He left. A long time ago.”

Moxie’s throat tightened. “Where?”

He paused, deliberately. “To follow his dreams.”

He gave no details, no clues. Nothing else.

Just a calm, silent truth.

Moxie stared back, her face controlled—but her heart sinking fast.

She turned slowly, quietly, and walked back to join her brothers at their table, holding the old handkerchief even tighter now.

Around her, the Delahaye siblings resumed their arguing and laughter, oblivious to her pain.

But Heath wasn’t oblivious.

He watched her from across the table, smirking knowingly.

Because he knew exactly where Sanji had gone—but he wouldn’t say a word.

And Moxie sat quietly, blinking back tears, because after five years…

She had finally returned to the place she’d fallen in love, only to find him gone.

——————————————————————

Far across the ocean, aboard the Thousand Sunny…

Laughter drifted through the air as the Straw Hats lounged across the deck, the sea calm beneath them and the sky wide and bright. It was a rare peaceful day, and Luffy, as usual, had steered the conversation into something ridiculous and heartfelt.

“Alright, everyone’s gotta say who their first crush was!” he declared with a grin.

“Mine was Mimi,” Franky said with a grin, arms behind his head. “My childhood best friend back in Water 7. Toughest girl I ever met.”

“That’s sweet,” Robin smiled.

“Usopp’s was Kaya,” Nami added casually.

“WHAT—don’t just say it like that!” Usopp flushed red as everyone laughed.

But when the laughter died down and all eyes turned to Sanji, the mood shifted just slightly.

He stood at the edge of the deck, arms folded, cigarette between his fingers. He stared out at the horizon like it held something precious—something lost.

“There was a girl,” he said quietly.

The wind tugged at his blonde hair, smoke drifting from his lips.

“She was wild. Sweet. Beautiful. Stronger than anyone gave her credit for. She laughed like she was trying to fight back tears and smiled like it hurt.”

Everyone grew quiet.

Sanji smiled faintly, but there was sadness behind it.

“I think about her more than I should.”

Chopper blinked. “Did she know you liked her?”

Sanji was silent for a moment.

Then he shook his head slowly.

“No. Not really. I never told her how much she meant to me.”

He looked down at the sea, voice quieter now.

“I should’ve. I should’ve said it when I had the chance.”

The cigarette burned low between his fingers.

Robin tilted her head. “Do you think you’ll see her again?”

Sanji looked up at the sky, smoke curling into the breeze.

“I hope so,” he said. “I really, really hope so.”

And he said it like a prayer.

Like maybe the wind would carry his words across the ocean to her.

Like maybe, somewhere out there, she was thinking of him too.

#selfship #f/o community #self ship community #self ship #selfship community #moxanji #yume community #self ship writing #selfship writing #one piece selfship #one piece self ship #one piece fanfic #sanji fanfic #one piece oc x canon

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deathdetermineslife · 3 months ago

Text

art history fic 🥀📜

words: good question. it's not very long I wrote this in grammarly on my phone in like 45 minutes

about: chronic pain my beloathed. husband comforts me and takes my mind off of things by telling me about one of the dumbest anthropological studies known to man.

warnings: uh? I mention the "sex raft" study done by Santiago Genové. so. mentions of sex. nothing described or graphic, just mentioned.

fic under the cut ! excuse any typos I'm fucked up on my medication rn because you'll never guess why! chronic pain <3

"Darling," Korekiyo whispered, gently grazing his bandaged fingertips against Lachlan's cheek. "What's the matter, my dear? You look unwell."

Lachlan was sprawled out on their shared bed, wrapped in a rather comfortable blanket, soft and warm. He grumbled, rolling onto his stomach and wrapping his arms around the pillow beneath him. A long groan escaped his throat, his fists gripping the pillow tightly.

"Pain," He grumbled, "Back hurts. Hips hurt. Legs hurt."

Korekiyo frowned, cocking his head like a confused puppy. "My love," he purred, his voice smooth as silk as he trailed his fingertips up Lachlan's back, "How can I assist you? Would you like any sort of medication to lessen the ache? Perhaps a hot bath? Or, of course, I can stay here and distract you a bit."

Lachlan grumbled again, unwilling to look at Kiyo as a throb radiated up his spine. "Distraction," He responded. "Good enough for me."

Korekiyo moved to lay next to him, taking precaution not to jostle the comfortable spot Lachlan was in. He continued rubbing his back, his palm soothing over his shoulder blades. "Would you like to hear of a ridiculous study I've been reading about as of late?"

Lachlan nodded, desperate to take his mind off of the pain be was feeling. "There was a study done in 1975 by an anthropologist named Santiago Genovés. The media aptly dubbed it 'The Sex Raft'."

He paused for a moment, ghosting his fingers over Lachlan's neck. "In essence, the study was meant to see what would happen if men and women were to be forced to live together in such a small space for an extended period of time. This study took place on a raft in the middle of the ocean, including four male participants and six female participants. Santiago, of course, came along."

"His idea was that when forced to live in such close quarters with one another with nowhere else to go, the natural human reaction to frustration would be to either murder or make love with one another," Korekiyo continued, turning his gaze away from Lachlan and looking off into the distance, into his own mind.

"Ultimately, this was unsuccessful, as you may imagine," he laughed, bringing his gaze back down to Lachlan, who now had turned his head to look at Kiyo. "In fact, this was so unsuccessful, he tried persuading participants into his hypothesis by presenting them with questionnaires that inquired on the members feelings for one another."

"How shameful," Korekiyo's tone hardened, scoffing, "Not the most proper way to conduct a study, now is it? Outside influence is detrimental to the outcomes of research."

Lachlan laughed lowly, amused at his husband's passion for the correctness on conducting anthropological studies. "So what happened next?"

Korekiyo smiled, rubbing small, rhythmic circles into Lachlan's back. "They returned to the harbor with nothing but hatred for Santiago himself. Considering, too, he tried to guide them head on into a hurricane. He was a strange individual, indeed."

"Did he do anything else interesting in his career?" Lachlan asked, wincing as Kiyo's fingers pressed into a sore spot on his back. He laughed again, rolling his eyes amusedly.

"No. He lived and died without making any significant contributions to the world of anthropology. But, he certainly did contribute a good read," Korekiyo recounted. Lachlan had shifted to his side, Kiyo's hand moving to rest on his hip over the soft, fluffy blanket.

"You should tell me more silly stories while we snuggle," Lachlan suggested, a devious smile painting his face. "I could fall asleep in your embrace. Sounds lovely, doesn't it, baby doll?"

Kiyo nodded, adjusting his position on the bed to mirror his husband's, gingerly draping his arms around his waist. "How divine... perhaps I'll tell you about the Earl of Sandwich next, hmm? That surely will get a giggle out of you."

#🥀📜#help in falling asleek as we speak #night night kissie kissie bave. sleep #self shipping #self ship #self shipper #selfshipper #selfship #selfshipping #f/o community #f/o #romantic f/o #fictoromantic #yumedanshi #yumejoshi #yume community #yumeship #selfship writing #selfship fanfiction

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leorioscanonwife · 1 month ago

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♡ “You’re Allowed to Be Loved Too”♡ (A Leorio x Jolie fanfic)

✎ Hurt/Comfort, Wholesome, Venting,

✎ Hunter x Hunter Fanfic, Leorio x Oc, Leorio x Self insert, College au

✎ 770 words

Made this because I was feeling depressed and needed someone to comfort me. Didn’t have anyone irl so I used Leorio <3

Jolie was quiet.

Too quiet.

Which was weird, because she was usually the type to fill every room she walked into—messy giggles, weird jokes, “accidentally” dropping glitter in places it didn’t belong. Even when she was upset, she usually had a joke on standby. Something dumb. Something to make other people feel okay.

But tonight, she just sat on the dorm bench, legs pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves hiding her hands. Her bubblegum pink sketchbook lay forgotten at her side.

Leorio spotted her from across the courtyard, slowing down when he noticed the slouch in her shoulders. He hadn’t even heard her make her usual “what’s up, doc” quip.

That was his first clue.

“Hey,” he said, gently, walking over. “What’re you doing out here? It’s cold.”

Jolie didn’t look at him. She just blinked, like she hadn’t even realized she was crying until he spoke. “Oh. Hi.”

His chest tightened. “Scoot.”

She moved, and he sat beside her.

They were both quiet for a moment. Then she muttered, “Sorry I didn’t come to movie night. I didn’t wanna ruin the vibe.”

“What?” he said, eyebrows pulling together. “Jolie, you are the vibe.”

She gave him a watery laugh that faded almost immediately. “Nah. I’m just the dumbass who tries too hard to make everyone laugh because if they’re laughing, they’re not… I don’t know. Hating me, I guess.”

Leorio’s throat clenched.

Jolie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “I keep thinking if I can just be nice enough, or funny enough, or useful enough, then people will… like me. Or at least not hurt me. Like in high school, I’d carry three different lunch boxes just so I could share with people and they wouldn’t throw stuff at me again.” She laughed, but it cracked. “I got really good at juggling.”

Leorio was silent. Listening.

“I know I’m annoying sometimes,” she whispered. “I know I talk too much and make weird jokes and wear dumb outfits and overshare and cry at stupid things, but I just—” Her voice shook. “I just wanna make people happy so they don’t hate me. But it’s exhausting. And the worst part is, no matter how hard I try, I still kind of hate myself anyway.”

She finally looked at him, eyes bloodshot and shining under the courtyard lights.

“I just wanna be someone people don’t give up on.”

Leorio didn’t say anything right away. He reached out, gently tugging her into his chest, arms wrapping around her tight like she might fall apart if he let go.

“You don’t have to earn your right to exist, Jolie,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “You don’t have to set yourself on fire to keep everyone else warm. And for the record?” He leaned his chin on her head. “Nobody with a functioning brain hates you.”

Jolie let out a weak laugh. “That narrows it down.”

He smiled a little, brushing a hand through her hair. “You’re not annoying. You’re you. Ridiculous and messy and shiny and bright and sometimes loud, yeah. But you’re one of the most alive people I’ve ever met. And I know it feels like you’ve gotta keep dancing or you’ll get pushed back into the dark, but… you’re allowed to sit down. You’re allowed to rest.”

She sniffled into his buttoned up shirt. “You’re being weirdly poetic right now. Is this a side effect of medical school?”

“It’s a side effect of caring,” he muttered. “Shut up and let me be soft, damn it.”

Jolie smiled, really smiled this time,and then without thinking, she turned and wrapped her arms around him. Tight. Her face pressed into his chest. Warm. Real.

“Thanks,” she whispered, “for not giving up on me.”

Leorio froze.

Absolutely, entirely froze.

His ears went red first. Then the blush hit his cheeks like a slap. His brain short-circuited halfway through the thought she’s hugging me she’s hugging me she’s hugging me oh my god she smells like strawberries and paint I’m gonna die here.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, arms hovering in the air like he forgot what to do with them. Then, slowly, he hugged her back.

“…Anytime,” he said, trying to sound normal even though he felt like his heart had just learned how to do backflips. “Seriously.”

She stayed there a minute longer, eyes closed.

And Leorio stared ahead into the night, heart hammering, face glowing red, trying really hard not to grin like a total idiot.

#leolie #self ship #leorio x self insert #hxh leorio #selfship writing #leorio self ship #hxh self ship #self ship writing #I’m glad he exists #thank you Leorio for letting me vent to you #ughhh I just feel like crap. I needed to write this so bad #and here it is

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samurai-smoocher · 2 months ago

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♡“Check yes or no”♡ (A Goemon x Eris fanfic)

✎ Fluff, Romance, Comedy, Soft Pining

✎ Lupin III Fanfic, Goemon x OC, Goemon x Self Insert

✎ 953 Words

Eris was a mess.

A quietly suffering, red faced, heart thumping, pillow screaming mess.

And the cause of her complete emotional downfall?

Goemon Ishikawa XIII.

For the past few weeks, something in her had snapped. She had always found him mysterious and fascinating, sure—but now? Now she was a full-blown disaster. One that stared too long when he was drinking tea, sighed like a lovesick idiot when he tied his hair back, and blushed when he sneezed.

Seriously. He sneezed once—just once, soft and sudden, while reading—and she had nearly dropped her drink.

“Bless you,” she’d said, dazed. “That was… adorable.”

He blinked at her. She left the room immediately.

It was bad.

He was so composed, so quiet, and somehow that just made it worse. Every time he walked into the room, her brain lit up like a firework show. And the way he moved—graceful without even trying, precise like he was born for it—made her want to fold in half and roll under the nearest piece of furniture.

One time, he caught a knife midair during a fight and calmly tucked his hair behind his ear afterward, and she actually whimpered.

She was losing it. Fully. Completely. Hopelessly in love with a man who probably didn’t even realize he was her Roman Empire.

So—since direct confession would involve her heart exploding and her ghost haunting him forever—Eris turned to the only plan she had left.

A note.

The kind you give someone in grade school. The kind that says just enough and not too much. The kind that’s cute and dumb and safe and lets her pretend she still has control over this.

She wrote it at 2 a.m., lying on her stomach and kicking her feet in the air like an idiot. Rewrote it five times. Decorated the final draft with three heart stickers and a sparkly star, then stuck it in a pale pink envelope. There was a tiny smiling frog sticker on the flap. She didn’t question it. Her hands were shaking too hard.

When she saw Goemon sitting alone at the low table that afternoon, sipping his tea, back straight, sword beside him—she thought she might faint.

But she swallowed hard. Pulled the envelope from her jacket.

And walked over.

He looked up. Calm. Curious. Gentle.

Eris didn’t say anything. She didn’t dare. She just placed the envelope in front of him, fingers brushing the edge of the paper, and gave him the tiniest nod before turning on her heel and walking away.

Her heart thundered like a war drum the whole way out of the room.

And behind her, Goemon quietly picked up the envelope, turning it over in his hand.

One soft pink sticker heart smiled up at him.

Goemon turned the envelope over once more, running a thumb over the frog sticker. It felt… delicate. Purposeful. Like Eris had handled every detail with care.

He slid his finger under the flap and opened it with quiet precision.

The letter inside was neatly folded, the paper soft pink with little stars lining the edges. The handwriting was unmistakably hers—looping and dramatic in spots, like she couldn’t quite decide if she wanted to be shy or bold.

————————————————————————

Goemon,

Do you like me?

☐ Yes

☐ No

☐ You’re desperately in love with me and have no idea how to deal with it because I’m beautiful and dazzling and I smell really good and you think about me when you meditate but you’ll never admit it out loud and it’s okay, I forgive you, because I like you that much.

(Just check a box. It’s okay. I’m only freaking out a little.)

—Eris

————————————————————————

Goemon stared at the letter in silence.

Then—quietly—he exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

He felt the faintest heat bloom at the back of his neck. Her handwriting. The hearts. That ridiculous third option. And yet—it wasn’t ridiculous at all. Not to him.

He sat still for another moment.

Then looked up.

Across the room, Eris was sitting at the edge of the sofa, trying and failing to pretend she wasn’t waiting. Her fingers were white-knuckling the armrest. Her foot was tapping. She looked like she might actually pass out.

Goemon raised the letter gently in one hand. “You forgot something.”

She blinked. “W-What?”

He held it up, calmly. “A pen.”

Her brain short-circuited.

“Oh! Right! Sorry—hang on—” She scrambled for a pen like it was a life-or-death situation, nearly knocking over a lamp, and handed it to him with trembling fingers.

Goemon took it.

No rush. No theatrics.

Just… quietly marked the third box with a steady hand.

Then he stood, walked across the room, and handed the letter back to her without a word.

Eris took it like it might detonate.

She unfolded it. Saw the check mark.

And saw what he’d added underneath:

“I don’t know how to deal with it. But I think about you more than I should.”

Her heart exploded. Just completely self destructed.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and breathless.

Goemon wasn’t smiling exactly—but there was something in his expression. A warmth. A quiet satisfaction. The barest hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re blushing,” he said softly.

Eris let out a strangled squeak and covered her face with both hands, curling into herself like a dying star.

“I—You—! That’s not fair—!”

Goemon turned to leave, calm as ever.

But just before he exited the room, he looked over his shoulder.

“I like the frog sticker,” he said.

And then he was gone.

Eris melted into the couch with a high pitched noise and didn’t reemerge for the rest of the afternoon.

#self ship #selfship #goemis #goemon self ship #goemon ishikawa xiii #self ship community #lupin iii self ship #selfship community #self ship writing #selfship writing #goemon ishikawa xiii x reader

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starshakez · 6 months ago

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The Milkshake And The Mask - Starshake ★

Finally posting my silly MF DOOM Starshake fic along with my doodle !! The fic will be under the readmore bc it's so long 😭

The room floor looked like a crime scene of junk food. Old pizza boxes were towered lazily in the corner while crumpled chip bags lay defeatedly around the couch. The air carried a faint smell of artificial chip flavoring, but Star didn’t seem to care. She never did.

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she was surrounded by a collection of CDs, the shiny surfaces catching the reflection of the old cable TV her boyfriend had become attached to. Each CD was unfamiliar to Shake, who lazily lounged nearby on the couch, occasionally glancing her way.

“Alright..” Star said, clicking the chunky buttons on the battered CD player. It whirred and clicked, the sound of an aging machine struggling to keep up. “Tonight, we’re listening to MF DOOM. Trust me babe, just listen..”

Shake raised his “eyebrow,” the lid of his cup lifting with exaggerated skepticism. “DOOM? What kind of name is that? Sounds like he'd walk around in some weird costume..”

Star’s face lit up enthusiastically, her grin widening as she held up one of the CDs. “Actually, you're kinda right! He wears a mask.. He’s a villain. Like, THE villain. You’re gonna love him.”

She handed the CD over, the strange and unfamiliar object now in Shake’s yellow gloved hand. He squinted at the strange imagery of a man wearing a mask, making Shake realise that this is nothing like his usual music taste. He studies the name on the CD, Madvillain. “Uh... babe? Did you hand me the wrong one?”

“Nope!” Star said, laughing as she took the CD back and cracked it open. “Still MF DOOM. He’s got a ton of aliases and collaborations. Madvillain is just one of them.. he worked on this one with Madlib.”

Shake gestured at the pile of CDs scattered around her. Nearly every one stated a different name. His lid twitched in confusion as he studied each one of them. “So they're all him.. how many aliases does this guy need?”

Star chuckled, sliding the CD into the player. “A lot.”

“And they’re all... the same guy?”

“Yeah..”

The CD player let out a loud crackle before the music started. The room filled with DOOM’s distinctive sound, causing Star to move back and forth slightly to the beat, silently showing how much the music means to her.

Shake’s mouth curled into an uncharacteristically soft smile at this, revealing a side only some people would ever see. “You know... this guy’s got style,” he said after a moment of pretending not to care as much as he did. “I mean, he’s not me, but he’s alright. I’m telling you, babe, if the world had given Nude Love a chance, I’d have already been famous by now!”

Star couldn’t help but laugh, crawling over to him and wrapping her arms around him. She rested her head lightly on his lid, the two of them settling into a surprisingly comfortable position.He leaned back against her, letting himself relax as the music from the old CD player filled the room.

For the rest of the album, they stayed like that, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. Shake grumbled occasionally, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t that impressed, but Star didn’t buy it, she could tell the music was affecting her boyfriend the same way as it affected her.

And maybe, Shake decided he would let her pick the music a little more often. Not because he was actually into it or anything, but because he was such a generous boyfriend. Or so he’d say..

Taglist @loverxiety @shuteyelenz @herrling @sanjiismystinkybaby @dogboyships

@deepwatersiren @wuffverine @vergils-beloved @justfrankie3 @jokerislandgirl32

@ryez-loveyz @sari-stars @cruising-thru-the-starz

#🥤my art #fictoromantic #selfship community #self ship #selfship #oc x canon #f/o community #self shipping #selfship fic #selfship fanfiction #selfship writing #yumeship community #yumeship

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rowenasdarling · 4 months ago

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I hate phone calls. Really, I hate being the first one to reach out. First text, first email, first voice message; hate them. All of them make me nervous, especially if it's someone I don't talk to much, or worse, have never talked to before. But phone calls are the worst of the bunch. There's something so daunting about hearing the line ring, waiting with bated breath for someone to pick up. If I'm willingly calling you, you already know you're exceptional.

"Hello?"

Her voice is certainly a familiar one, although I still get laughably nervous when I hear it. That's less to do with the phone and more to do with the fact it's her on the end of the line, though. Rowena still makes me feel all off-kilter, and she knows it, too. She likes it. She's a little sick, a little cruel, but not too much. Never too much.

"Hi..."

Silence; I can practically hear her smirking on the other end.

"Did you need something, sweetpea?"

You. No, too desperate. Even now, I'm still trying to impress her all the time. I like her. I just want her to like me too.

"... No, I just," - I swallow, then finish quieter, "miss you."

Another moment of silence, though this one has a softness to it.

"Can't sleep?" she asks, though she obviously already knows the answer. Rowena knows me well enough by now. Her voice is going to that gentle place, the kind of dulcet she saves for me and me alone.

Hearing it takes the edge off; she's sweet to me. She still likes me. I'm not bothering her. Tension seeps from my shoulders, sinking into the mattress beneath me. It feels warmer, more comfortable than it did a minute ago. There's only one thing missing.

"You know I don't sleep well without you."

"I know, honey," she coos, "I'd be there if I could. You're not the only one missing it, y'know."

I shift, curled up on my side with the phone under my ear.

"Are you busy?" I ask, even though it's not what I mean. Rowena knows this, too.

"I can stay," she answers.

Relief blankets me; she's become the only sleep aid that works for me.

"Mm," I hum, finally starting to succumb to the exhaustion that drove me to pick up the phone at this ungodly hour, "love you."

She's probably smiling. She always gets this sweet, soft little smile when I tell her I love her. If I close my eyes, I can picture it in perfect clarity.

"I love you too, darlin'," and it's in her voice. She never takes that tone, not to anyone except me. My own little piece of her, hidden away from the rest of the world, witnessed only by me. "Rest. I'm here."

She starts humming softly. An old Gaelic lullaby, something she's carried around in the back of her mind for centuries. I'm not entirely convinced it's not some sort of enchantment in its own right, because every time she does it, it sends me into a peaceful slumber.

I sink further into the pillows with a soft sigh. Sleep creeps up unannounced.

If I just focus on her voice, it's easy to imagine she's right here.

no proship no ship doubles

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moondane-lovers · 27 days ago

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The “Retirement” Scene - Rewritten

Drabble/Oneshot- Yumeship/Selfship - Immortal X Pluto (Stopwatch) - Desc- Immortal expects the usual hangout with the limited time he has to get together with someone with something in common. She suggests a change of plans that has him rethinking a sky that has become dull and pointless. Notes- That god awful scene that fully nails in the character destruction of the "canon" immortal ship is a total mess and I just. ugh. I decided to rework it in the timeline with my ship, because the hate from it is very, VERY justifiable. Fuck that. Bonus accompanying screenshot edit

"You're just in time, he's beginning to wake up."

A distant voice was the first thing the Immortal heard after the sensation of his head being severed from his body, vaguely familiar but forgettable. He sensed a figure moving beside him, then the sensation of his hand being touched.

He knew that hand, that skin.

"Urgh..." He groaned, sitting up slowly to temper the aches littering his battered body. He opened his eyes, the sting of the light causing him to relent and lie back down. His vision was blurred, but for a moment, he saw a familiar silhouette beside him.

"It's okay, it's okay. Everything's okay, take your time."

His eyes shot open, locking onto the source of the voice. It still stung, but his sight cleared.

"Pluto?" He gasped, attempting to turn his head against the restraint of his neck brace.

"Hey." She smiled softly, squeezing his hand a little tighter. He had never seen anyone look so perfect and tired at the same time. "Still got your head on straight?"

He paused, made a face, and then weakly laughed. Reaching out, he pulled her down into a tight hug on top of him. The weight hurt his ribs, but he couldn't have cared less.

"I'm happy to see you, so I must have." He sniffled, running his fingers through her hair. "I wasn't sure if I was going to..." He paused, memories flowing back as he clocked that he was in a GDA recovery room.

"Did we win? Is everyone alright? The other Guardians- Invincible-?" He looked over to Donald, who had been silently watching their little reunion.

"All threats are neutralized. We're still assessing losses, but the Earth is safe. We're glad to have you back, Immortal." Donald spoke clinically, going through the motions- something Immortal picked up on.

He exhaled, still holding onto Pluto as he contemplated his next words. There were so many things he wanted to say, but another part of him was screaming at him to give up and lie down. He was tired, physically and mentally anguished, hw knew that he would soon be preparing for more than one funeral. He was going to do it, say that he was done, that he couldn't do it anymore-

"You know... I fought my first criminal today." Pluto spoke up, pulling back and switching her position so she was kneeling on the edge of the bed.

"You-what?" he stuttered, blindsided.

"Helped a bunch of families get into a basement safe zone. Some dipshit with a gun thought it was a good idea to try and rob them in the process. I got to watch a guy twice my size piss himself when I dug a bullet out of my shoulder and threw it back at him. I might have thrown a printer at his head while he was fleeing."

"You were shot!?" He sat up fully, looking her over like he was expecting to find an actively bleeding wound on her.

"I was!"

"Are you okay!?"

"Still recovering from the adrenaline crash, and it hurt like hell, but yes, I am! Turning back time, remember? I un-shot myself." She gave a thumbs up, lightening the mood. "I had to do what I could. I can probably be out there helping with rebuilding, I figured out how to maintain my strength... via printer launch."

Did what she could. He looked down at his hands and grimaced, centering himself.

"I'm well enough to help. Send me back out." Immortal declared, locking eyes with Donald while beginning to take off the brace around his neck

"You still need to recuperate, it wouldn't be wise to-" Pluto raised a hand before Donald could finish, "Uh, go ahead, miss."

"What if someone was with him to monitor? I'll go out and stay with him. Give me an earpiece, I can carry extra first aid with me anyways, I'll be a pack mule if needed." She stood up, taking off her jacket and placing it on the room's table once folded.

"You've never been in the field, you're going to see bodies and people in severe distress. This as a first time wouldn't be responsible." Donald argued, though there was little conviction in his voice, he had a feeling there was no talking them out of this.

"I've died before, seen bodies too. I've been in the place of the people out there." She retorted, shifting her gaze to Immortal, knowing he was going to give her an argument as well.

"You don't like flying, I won't be able to go slow. This will be extreme, there's no backing out once we get out there. Are you sure?" He questioned, not liking the answer he was going to get, as she forced herself to look him dead in the eyes.

"Immortal." She walked right up and reached up to put her hands on his face, he made a little noise in surprise. Her hands were colder than usual, or perhaps his face was warm. Twenty for hours fighting against a Viltrumite followed by death, then coming back to the sight of the one you love did strange things to your heart.

"I'm not you, but I've learned some really important shit from you. This is going to haunt me for months, I know that. But I'm going to feel worse if I pretend I can't handle doing something for people going through hell out there. I'm going. WE are going together." Pluto concluded.

After recovering from his surprise, it was her turn to be thrown off- he smiled softly.

"You're pulling on my beard."

"Oh! Sorry.” She adjusted her hands before continuing.

“If that was an attempted derail, sorry, I'm still going."

"I know." He sighed as she removed her hands, finally able to unlock eye contact.

"I'll have a set of gear prepared, we'll need a few minutes so... I-I'll... go." Donald coughed, backing out of the room. He had a feeling he was better off elsewhere. As soon as he was gone, Immortal opted to properly kiss her and then grapple-hug her like she was going to vanish if he let her.

"Oh, one thing." She patted his hair, accepting that she was not going to be put down for a while. Which was fair, her partner died, and now he was not dead, but dying was, at the bare minimum, a bad time.

"Hm?" He looked up from shoving his head into her neck.

"You need to ask for a mental health vacation once things are stable. You need a break so badly that I can't come up with a joke that isn’t insensitive to how rough you’re doing. You’re not okay, and that’s very justified with all… this.” She suggested, forcing her way through the wrongness of eye contact to drive the point home.

“But-“ He tried to find the words, stumbling over his thoughts. “What would I do?”

“Go talk to that therapist Cecil’s offering, come to Canada with me so I can show you where I grew up, lay in bed for hours while watching movies while eating the most ungodly junk, explore a wooded area with flight hacks on… anything but this?” She smiled.

"I... I think that would be a wonderful idea." His face went all soft, and he let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He had more to give, but he needed to refill his reserves, not because he had to, but because the world he lived in was worth protecting.

Taglist- @rowenasdarling @gideongrovel @thepenguinandthefiend @moxanji-real @iwishihadfangs @louiesselfshipramblings @lottiematthewsgirlfriend @zoroscanonhusband (Ask to be added or fill out the form on my pinned!)

Divs (Edited by me)

#⏳eternality❤️‍🩹#selfship #s/i #my stuff #yumeship #writing #selfship art #selfship writing #I FINALLY POSTED IT

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deepdarkindigo · 11 days ago

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One Late Night...

"Treasure Planet" | 2.3K+ words | selfship

As the Legacy sails for Treasure Planet, John Silver finds himself meeting up with a crewmate one fateful night. And it happens to be the one sailor that he's started to grow attached to.

On the RLS Legacy, it was a quiet evening. The ship droned steadily onwards alone through the sky. With a gentle hum from its thrusters and other mechanical parts, all of the vessel's tenders were sound asleep in their quarters.

Well, most were, anyway.

Then he noticed something - the cabin boy was the least of his worries, it was Jack that was no longer to his right, or within sight at all. Silver sat up slowly and looked around, letting the light in his eye burn brightly enough to see at least a little better, but there was no sign of the lagomoth anywhere.

From the little crevice he and his keeps had nestled into, Long John Silver stirred awake. A faint light glowed from his bionic eye as he glanced upwards. Above him on his cap, Morph was sleeping soundly. He adjusted it to keep little guy balanced ontop, then he looked around. To his left was the cabin boy, Jim, also curled up but stirring in his sleep.

Lad's dreamin', he thought quietly with a sigh. Good, he knows the value of rest. Was a restless cub myself at that age.

Slowly, he took off his cap and got up, putting it off to the side as he did so. He was careful not to wake the Morph as he set it down, and he was careful not to wake Jim either as he made his way onto the quarterdeck.

The stars in the sky around him lit his way with a cool glow, but even then, there seemed to be no sign of Jack on the quarterdeck. He looked around quietly and carefully for a few minutes. However, after having no luck in his search, Silver turned his attention to the forecastle. There, he finally spotted the lagomoth leaning over the railing, his antennae flowing in the wind breezing past him and his eyes gazing longingly at the stars above.

Silver's expression softened, and a gentle smile spread across his lips as he noticed how the vibrant indigo sky matched Rackham's eyes.

It was like, for the first time, he truly noticed just how handsome they were... How handsome he was.

Jack simply stood there in the meantime, staring into the stars as his mind got lost in them. So many thoughts danced in his head, floating around like solar boats. He thought about the journey they were on, the possibilities of what waited at the end, and the man who he was becoming quite attached to. Who made him think... Who he didn't notice was sneaking up behind him.

A long sigh began to escape Rackham's lips, but it was quickly replaced by a faint little squeak as a sudden new weight fell over him.

He looked around himself.

There was John Silver, hunched over Rackham with his huge hands holding onto his against the railing. The ursid's thick chin rested against the lagomoth's shoulder, his warm smoky breath blowing against the feathered part of his violet antennae. Even his belly had his back curved against it, changing the way the lagomoth stood.

A chuckle escaped Silver's smirking lips.

"Am I... interruptin' somethin' important 'ere, Jackabun?" he murmured.

Rackham looked down at the sky beneath the ship, trying to gather his thoughts in the energy trails.

"Thankfully not," he replied, masking his emotions as best he could, even though Silver saw right through him. "Seems like you got a knack for timing, Mr. Silver."

"I'm simply a man of opportunity; it always finds me first," he chuckled softly, then he leaned in closer to his face. "Any rate, ya ought'a be sleepin'. What're ya fancyin' the lights fer?"

"Simply thinking, that's all..." the lagomoth turned to look at his ursid companion in the eye. Though his face ended up closer than he was ready for, his expression remained unyielding. "Why, does the captain have say over when or what we get to think too?"

For a moment, Silver couldn't help but chuckle at how cute the bunny's reactions and comments were.

"If she did," Silver grinned as he took hold of Rackham's chin between his thumb and his curled fist. "I'd be in right trouble for thinkin' of you all day now, wouldn't I?"

Rackham flinched a little, his eyes wide and his chin coming free of his fingers as he suddenly coughed.

"You... okay, now where did this all this come from?" he asked almost breathlessly. "I figured we were-… I mean, you sound so sincere, Mr. Silver."

"Could say the same of you, Rackham, the way you keep sayin' me name," he mumbled, his voice turning into a low rumble in his throat and making the smaller man's knees shake a little. He made them even moreso as he leaned in closer, tilting his head to one side as he continued; "In fact, I can'tsl help but wants to ask ya... Is it I me that's keepin' ya up thinkin' like this?"

Jack simply sat there flustered, looking down at his shaky boots and trying his best not to look at John. In turn, John slipped his big, rough hand across his smooth cheek and jawline. Then, he leaned in until their noses just barely touched, pulling their gazes into each others like two drops of liquid gold.

"Tell me..." he whispered. "What's on yer mind, me starshine?"

… Starshine? Rackham thought to himself frantically. Starshine?!

Rackham's breath drastically pulsed in his lungs, he could feel his temperature rising with it. To ease his nerves, he impulsively licked the air in front of him.

Suddenly, he froze.

He felt his tongue nearly graze Silver's lower lip, making them both flinch in surprise. In fact, the lagomoth flinched so hard that he fell backwards with a louder "woah!" than he was ready to vocalize.

If the ursid hasn't reacted in time, he would've gone crashing overboard. Rather than let him go off the edge, he caught him in his arms and held his body in a sudden dip. He looked down at him in shocked embarassment, an expression that his companion returned in full as he lay there in his arms. From a distance, it looked like they had just finished a passionate dance and they were now simply starstruck by each other.

At that moment, Rackham couldn't help but let his romantic side speak up as he stared up at Silver with wide indigo eyes.

"Mr. Silver..." Rackham muttered softly, his hand reaching up and smoothing against Silver's shirt.

Something about the way he said his name finally got to him. Silver relaxed and leaned in again as his eyes hooded and glowed, one quite literally with a sunset colored light.

"Jackabun..."

Rackham suddenly shook his head and pulled himself up so he wasn't completely within Silver's hands. His head tilted to one side as he spoke to him.

"You… This is the second time you've saved me now… Do you see how we must look?"

"As clear as a mornin' on Proteus One."

The readiness of his response was something Rackham wasn't ready for. So he pushed on, trying to get Silver to break the spell he himself was trying not to fall back under.

"So you admit that… what would people think?"

"They... wouldn't think anythin'." John shrugged a little with a playful smirk. "It's obvious that you's been pinin' for ol' Silver 'ere, anyways. Why wouldn't they gets the idea that I have a claim on ya darlin' face?"

"… Oh come now, you say that as if I'm some sort of port floozy." Jack furrowed his brow and grinned. "Don't think I can't see you pining after me as well. Like I don't have a claim on your face too."

Silver paused for a moment, surprised to be called out so directly. Then, with a broader smirk on his lips, he leaned in until they nearly touched Rackham's. A raspy chuckle escaped his throat and brushed warmly against the smaller man's mouth.

"Keep yer pretty lips closed, me Jackabun, and I'll prove to ya that yer's far more than ya think."

"Oh yeah, Mr. Silver, how?"

Rackham had said that out of retalliation, but Silver impulsively took it as an invitation.

"Just like this."

At last, for a brief moment, he closed the gap between them and he pressed his lips against his in a slow, tender kiss. At first, Rackham's eyes widened in shock, and his voice squeaked in Silver's mouth. Then, his eyelids fluttered shut as he allowed himself to sink deep into the kiss.

And what a kiss it was; it was a perfect, cozy quiet and the stars twinkled around them, setting the mood as their tongues slow-danced in each other's cheeks.

However, as quickly as he initiated it, Silver stopped it just as quickly. He pulled his head back with widened eyes and heavy breath. An atypically nervous bead of sweat even rolled down his temple.

"Good lord," he mumbled. "Ye taste so… Augh blasted, what've I-?"

The words caught in his throat as Rackham's eyes opened and pulled the ursid's attention to them once again. Those lagomoth eyes looked like drops of indigo galaxies caught in a thin net, and he couldn't help but stare in wonder at them for a moment as Rackham quietly collected his words.

"Wh-… Whatever you did," Jack finally whispered quietly. "I think… I think you should do it again."

Silver looked down at him, his expression getting all warm and tender. His metal hand held Rackham steady and his other hand stroked gently against his cold cheek, which Rackham nuzzled it into with a look in his eyes.

"I… Aye starshine, I think you're right. Oh lord, c'mere-."

The ursid could barely finish his words before his lips were locked with the lagomoth's again, who returned the kiss with the same amount of passion. Like cream melting into a broth, the two of them melted into each other's embrace. They kissed just as deeply as they had been before, and even moreso.

Their moans even got slightly louder than previously, but it didn't stop Silver's ear from picking up a familiar squeak and pop. With a soft, inquisitive moan, his eye opened and he looked to his left. There, just as he expected, his Morph was curling up onto his shoulder.

He broke the kiss with the lagomoth with a little chuckle, and he reached up to pet the floating pink ball of goo. At this point, Rackham's eyes opened too, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling softly as he watched the interaction.

"Aww, someone's a bit jealous of us, I take it," Rackham hummed amusedly as he got up, which had Silver chuckling.

"Nah, me Jackabun," he cooed. "This lil' fella hardly ever gets like that; somethin' must've-... woken him up…"

John's words trailed off and he snapped his attention to the quarterdeck, which had Jack turning his attention that way as well.

There they saw Jim, looking quietly around the deck for them.

As they watched him in nervous silence, Morph made a squeaky vocalization that sounded a lot like the boy; "Where'd they go? Where'd they go…?"

Jim could hear the Morph, as evidenced by the fact his head had picked up and started to turn to the forecastle. Upon noticing this, both Silver and Rackham picked themselves up and stood around as casually as they could. For Silver, he was like a duck taking the water as he drew forth his pipe and lit it with a flame from his bionic hand. For Rackham, he was moreso a cat taking water as he frantically looked around for anything to grip his attention onto.

Jim looked towards them, and as soon as he noticed them, he made his way quietly but quickly over to them.

"H-Hey!" Jim called out in a half whisper tone as he climbed up the stairs. "What're you guys-…?"

The moment he got up on the forecastle, Rackham put a finger to his lips while Silver simply gazed over with a cocked eyebrow and his pipe lit in his hands. Meanwhile, Jim stared suspiciously at the two men.

"What's a matter, Jimbo?" Silver grinned quietly at him. "Ya gettin' yerself some night terrors? Why, me and Jack was just gettin up and havin' ourselves a little smoke. Ain't that right, Jackie?"

Rackham looked over at him, taking a brief second to comprehend his question and adjust accordingly to the cook's improvisation.

"… Yes, and I still can't find my pipe anywhere…"

"Aww, why didn't ya say so?" Silver held out his pipe to Rackham. "Ya can take a puff of mine, if ye's fancyin' somethin' with a little kick to it."

"You're very sweet, Mr. Silver," he smiled, perhaps a bit too fondly. "I'll be fine."

Jim assertively cleared his throat, but then he looked to the ground with a hand behind his head.

"Could you..." he mumbled with some vindiction. "You think I could, uh… I mean, I can handle whatever's-"

Silver bursted into a fit of soft laughter, which he muffled successfully with his free hand.

Rackham hummed softly as well.

"I uh... I wouldn't recommend his blend to you, it's some strong stuff."

"Lads like yerself shouldn't be smokin', anyways," Silver commented softly as he took a puff of his pipe. Smoke drifted from his lips as he carried on. "Why ya's only a lad anyway! And besides it ain't proper. 'Tis why we's doin' it now; ain't nobody's around ta see us."

Jim scoffed, throwing his hand at them just a little but still somewhat revering their authority.

"Whatever," he mumbled. "Not true... Who even needs that stuff anyway?"

Silver chuckled and pulled the pipe out of his mouth.

"Mm-hm," he replied as he snuffed out the smoke. "What ya needs, lad, is some sleep. In fact, we all should be gettin' ourselves some proper shut eye! We gots ourselves a busy day tomorrow."

Rackham nodded and he moved quietly past Jim, who looked behind him back at Silver as he followed behind him.

Silver watched them walk off and he grinned at the lad, but as his gaze fixed on Jack, his grin faltered and he looked back up to the sky. For a brief moment, he brought his closed fist with the pipe in it to his racing heart.

I ain't goin' soft, he thought to himself with a sigh. I… I swear…

With that, he tucked his pipe back into his coat and followed behind the two of them, leaving behind that gentle moment he shared with Rackham.

… At least for now.

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