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ladadiida · 1 year

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

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

or,

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

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

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

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You accepted it years ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah.

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

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

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

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

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Birthday

— S.

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

⸻ • ⸻

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe I can—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

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

⸻ • ⸻

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

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

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

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

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

Or so you thought.

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the answer was simple.

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

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

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

"Why not me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸻ • ⸻

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

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

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

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sanji!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸻ • ⸻

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No..."

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

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

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

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

"Even with me by your side?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸻ • ⸻

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

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

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

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

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

"I will."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸻ • ⸻

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

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

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

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

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

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

Sanji.

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

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

"There you are, ange."

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thinkinonsense · 23 days

Text

old!logan and his obsession with the cute diner girl *mdni

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing something smutty so if it sucks im sorry lmao also if any writers have any tips please share! :)

logan has been around for long enough to know when a woman is attracted to him. there was a certain essence given off that was always a dead giveaway. usually it came from women close to the age he looked like and it tended to be brief moments of lust before all hope was lost. this was until he met you.

the pretty young girl working at the diner during her time off from college. everyday, he came in and ordered a black coffee. the coffee wasn't even that good but logan would spend two dollars every single day of his life if it came with the view of you bending over in that tiny uniform skirt.

logan would watch you for hours while he drank and skimmed the news paper alone in a booth. your hair was always up in either a ponytail or held together with a hair clip. he loved seeing your pretty handwriting as you scribbled on your notepad, taking orders. it was part of your job to be nice to everyone but you were especially nice to him. even your friends began to notice how you would linger by his table, constantly topping off his coffee mug and making small talk; sometimes giving him a slice of cherry pie on the house.

"don't you think he's kinda old for you?" one of your friends whispers to you behind the counter.

it's stung but you suppose she had a point. what would a man old enough to be your father want with a young wild girl like yourself?

"i-i guess so?" you stuttered, embarrassed at your previous attempt at flirting with him.

the rest of the night, you hoped he would leave before close so you could have some time alone with your feelings. summer was almost over and you would go back to the city soon. it was time to forget these silly fantasizes.

by ten, all the other waitresses went home except you, the older woman in the back who counted the drawer every night, and a few of the cooks. the only customer still there was logan. he flipped through one of the books he brought with him; still sipping away at that damn coffee.

"isn't it getting a little late for you, sweetheart?" he asked nonchalantly, not even looking up at you as you bent over to scrub the table next to his. the fifth table you've cleaned in the last hour and the second time you've cleaned that specific table. logan noticed but you didn't.

"need the hours." you mumble, frustrated by a stubborn stain. all logan could focus on was your scrunched nose and how your tight top pushed your boobs together just right for his viewing. "college is fucking expensive plus grants and scholarships only cover so much."

"hmm.." logan grunts. grants? scholarship? what a goody fucking two shoes, logan thought to himself. "if you bring me piece of pie, i think i can help you out."

you lean off the table and go get what's left in the glass container. it's probably a little hard so you definitely didn't plan on charging him for it. you sit the plate down in front of him and before you could turn around to walk away, logan reaches for your wrist softly.

"join me." he offers.

you knew you shouldn't but what was really the harm? at least your friends weren't here to make fun of you. the radio played quietly on an older station while you watched logan take a bite of the pie.

"why did your friends leave you here alone?" he asked, watching your face turn sour at the memory of them.

"don't wanna talk about it." your voice was small in the empty diner.

"why? think an old man like me can't relate to it?" logan chuckles. your thighs squeeze together without thinking. so much for not embarrassing yourself.

"no, no, not that." you shake your head and a strand of hair falls from your bun. "just sort of juvenile, you know?"

logan could tell that you were trying to come off more mature around him. you didn't want him to see you as some college kid.

"juvenile, how?" he eggs on, pushing down his glasses a bit.

god, those glasses got to you; and logan knew it.

"they don't understand how i feel about someone." you sigh.

"how do you feel about this person?" logan noticed you now avoiding his gaze, not liking it one bit. "eyes on me, princess."

the nickname caught you off guard like a dear in headlight; blinking and trembling up at logan. something logan enjoyed very much and could get used to.

"it's not important, just some stupid crush." you lie through your teeth. "they will forget about me in a month."

"why don't you think it'll work?" he cocks his head to the side a bit. "you're a pretty young thing, dollface. anyone of those college boys would be lucky to be wrapped around your little finger."

"i don't want college boys." you mumble, slightly annoyed by the memory of your friends.

logan felt himself getting hard at you admitting you had a taste for someone older. his eyes grew dark as he leaned in a little over the table.

"then what do you want?"

your moment to answer was interrupted by the older woman from the back, releasing you to go home for the evening. this was your chance to get up and leave before you admitted anything else that you would regret.

both of you stood up. logan threw down some cash while you went to collect your stuff behind the counter.

"i'll see you tomorrow, lo-"

"you didn't answer the question."

"i must go now if i want to catch the last train."

logan worried about you taking the train back to your apartment alone this late at night. usually you drive back but your car has been in the shop for almost three days now. he would watch you get to your car every night to make sure you were safe.

"i can drive you home." logan offers.

you shouldn't be this excited to be sitting in a strangers truck alone at night but here you were. the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes before logan brought up the conversation from the diner again. what did you even want?

"i want someone who understands me..." you begin rattling off the first things that come to mind when you notice logan's hand on your knee. you don't dare move.

"someone who is responsible..." with every word, his hand creeps higher and higher up your skirt. logan is more than pleased when he notices your legs spread on their own.

"someone who is m-mature..." logan's fingers inch towards the delicate skin of your inner thigh. there's no way this was happening, you thought as his index finger plays with the lace on the center of your pink underwear. he smirked at the wet spot front and center, waiting for him.

"treats me r-r-right." every word was a struggle to form as he stroked you softly. back and forth. back and forth.

logan nods along, not letting up down below. his index finger hooks onto your underwear, pulling it aside. you weren't even sure if you were breathing at this point; all this teasing was torture.

"p-p-please, logan..." you whine. "touch me."

his thumb rubs tiny circles on your button, adoring the way his name pours from your glossy lips. your hands fly to his wrists, needing more; nails digging into his skin in the most delicious way.

"where did this greediness come from?" logan groans, dipping his index finger inside of you. "what happened to that good girl from the diner?"

logan's finger barely fit in the tight space. your head fell back and a loud moan escaped you.

"oh, you weren't letting those college boys touch you at all, huh?" logan mocks, adding another finger and creating a steady pace.

"n-no!" you whine, lifting your hips a little.

"you were waiting for a real man to have his way with you, isn't that right, pretty girl?" he growls, pushing your hips back down.

you completely missed logan pulling off to the side of the road until now. his pace increases becoming rather rough now that he isn't driving. logan leaves deep purple bruises down your neck and across your chest, praising you to no end until you gush around his fingers, completely soaking his palm.

your heart pounded like you had just finished a marathon. logan allowed you to catch your breath as he carefully removed his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth to lick clean. he can feel your dazy eyes staring at him as he does so, making a real show of it.

"i've been wanting to do that for months now." he admits with a smirk.

"me too." you said, leaning forward and pulling him into a kiss; tasting yourself on his lips and tongue. logan wraps his hands around your hair, pulling you back a little when another moan falls from your lips.

"and we aren't even close to being done."

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ecoterrorist-katara · 4 months

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The tragedy of Katara’s parentification

Sokka and Katara were both parentified, and it’s a profoundly life-changing thing for both of them. One of the saddest things in ATLA, though, is how Sokka sort of got to outgrow parentification, but Katara never did.

Sokka’s told to be the man. The provider, the protector. He’s not so good at the former (his hunting failures are a consistent source of comic relief), and he takes failures of the latter very, very hard. He doesn’t manage to save Yue, and that wrecks him. After Yue, he becomes extremely protective of Suki in a way that’s borderline offensive to her. He’s willing to do anything to protect his friends and his family, including something as irresponsible as breaking into the Boiling Rock. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Sokka is the only one of the Gaang who unambiguously kills. The rest of them may technically have clean hands because of cartoon logic, but Combustion Man is very dead, and Sokka is the one who killed him. We don’t know how he feels about it, because the show never goes there, but I have a pet theory that Sokka is so uncharacteristically (remember he was team “leave Zuko to freeze to death”) against Katara confronting Yon Rha in The Southern Raiders because he’s the only who knows what killing feels like and wants to protect Katara from it.

But by the end of the show, Sokka’s in a place where he can start to let go of his need to protect. Objectively, all his friends are unbelievably powerful and can take care of themselves, including his sister and his girlfriend. Suki is the one who saves him in the final battle, representing not only a reversal of his initial cartoonish misogyny, but also demonstrating that he is worthy of protection. And of course, he and his friends saved the world, so there isn’t really an enemy that he has to protect them from anymore. Sokka’s loved ones create the conditions under which his parentified behaviour is no longer necessary. Sokka would still have to take the first step to stop seeing himself as the one who has to lay his life on the line, but at least it’s possible for him.

But not Katara.

Katara had to take on the mom role after their mother was murdered, which meant she was responsible for domestic labour and emotional support. Sokka says in The Runaway that her role was to keep the family together. Unlike protection, that’s always a full time job regardless of the war. We see Katara spending more screen time than anybody cooking, getting food, mending, and generally doing women’s work. We see Katara giving everyone emotional support, including strangers and her enemy. We see Katara putting aside her own discomfort and her own hurt in The Desert because if she falls apart, they all die. Nobody ever showed her that she doesn’t need to be the only one who cooks, or that somebody else can be responsible for the emotional wellbeing of her friends, or that — god forbid — someone else can actually be responsible for her emotional wellbeing.

That’s why I never cared for the Ka/taang argument of “he teaches her to be a kid again!” Putting aside the fact that Katara ends up taking care of Aang a lot more as the series goes on, the whole tragedy of parentification is that you can never again be a child. That part of your childhood, your god-given right, is robbed from you. It is extremely precious and important to still be able to be a kid, but breaking free of parentification is not about seeing yourself as a kid. It’s about breaking free of being responsible for everyone’s feelings and behaviours.

For Katara, that responsibility is not problem of perception, but of reality. Unlike Sokka, who was told and shown that his loved ones are capable of protecting themselves, Katara has zero reason to believe that her loved ones are able to feed and clothe themselves and not fall apart emotionally. Between Toph and Sokka who emphatically don’t want to do this work, it all falls on Katara. Telling a parentified child that they just need to loosen up is akin to telling an overworked mother that she needs to just relax (“happy Mother’s Day! You get a break from chores, which you will catch up on tomorrow because nobody else is doing them”). It doesn’t accomplish anything if nobody creates the circumstances under which it’s possible to let go of responsibilities. A lot of Zutara fans, spanning all the way back to the early days of the fandom, like the “Momtara and Dadko” trope where Zuko also does chores. Why? Because even without the concept and language of parentification, many fans recognized that Katara’s performance of domestic and emotional labour is inequitable and probably very taxing.

Growing out of parentification is about more than just letting go of old expectations: it’s also about finding a new way to value yourself beyond the role you grew up with. I’ve said this before, but it’s very important to acknowledge that just because a kid is parentified doesn’t mean they’re actually good at being a parent. In fact, it’s probably a given that they’re not, because they’re kids performing roles that are developmentally inappropriate! Sokka remains a shit hunter; he becomes a decent fighter but he’s still miles behind his friends. A big part of healing from his parentification is finding another area — strategy, engineering, project management (what else do you call that schedule) — where he actually excels, to which he can dedicate his time and from which he can derive satisfaction and a sense of identity. For Katara, fighting for the oppressed and combat waterbending give her that. Crucially, however, Katara does not stop being a girl when she becomes a warrior. She’s still responsible for domestic and emotional labour. Unlike Sokka, whose protector duties were more or less relieved as the series went on and he found new ways to contribute to the group, Katara continued to perform her old role in addition to her new one (which is depressingly realistic btw, look up feminist theory around the concept of the second shift). Still, it’s important that she found these new ways to value herself and her contributions…

…which disappear in her adult life. Where’s adult Katara fighting for the oppressed? Where’s adult Katara enjoying her status as a master waterbender? Where’s Mighty Katara? Where’s the Painted Lady? Where’s the person who vanquished a whole Fire Lord?

What do we know about adult Katara? She’s no longer a rabblerouser or an ecoterrorist. She did not translate her desire to help the downtrodden into a political role, like being Chief or on the United Republic Council. She’s not known as the best waterbender in the world, only the best healer, even though her combat abilities are what she took the most pride in. Even as a healer, she established no hospitals, trained no widespread acolytes (except Korra, I guess?), and made no known contributions to the field.

What Katara is known for…is being a wife and a mother. The same role she was forced to take on at age 8. One which she performed for the next 80+ years.

#Self-proclaimed feminists who don’t see Katara’s trajectory as a tragedy…I want to know what you’re on because I’d like to use it to cope #Katara deserved better #anti kataang #as always my anti kataang posts are more #anti Bryke #very mild #zutara #pro Katara #pro Sokka #water sibs #They just give me so many feels #my meta #Katara parentification discourse

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moondirti · 3 months

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I have to ask about the sheep reader bc my god your brain is so wrinkly and now the images won't leave my head ahhhh love your writing so so much

hybrids. manipulation. brief smut. referenced neglect

it was that or cult leader price which i feel like has been done before so,,, idk man. something about sheep girl! reader being gifted to him by a hybrid averse neighbour, trussed up in the back of their pickup, soft belly up, eyes quivery and wet with tears. though he does not need an addition to his flock — certainly not one that would require extra care — he notices the abrasions sectioning your bare patches of skin (consequence of crowding in with the more animal individuals of your kind), and chubs up upon realising how easy it would be to soft-soap you into submission.

all it takes is a bit of kindness. he herds you into his home, bathing you in a galvanised steel tub with shampoo made for human women. his hands are large and rough, work-worn, but they weave into your wool gently as to not tug on the knots that have accumulated with neglect. you bleat in the novel attention, peering up at him shyly when he works the soap down your back, cupping between your legs to make sure he gets the dirt spoiling your privates.

freshly clean, you’re a pretty thing. round in the most mouth-watering places, teeth healthy upon inspection, plump lips perpetually cast in a pout. price goes so far as to tell you while he detangles your hair with an animal comb, petting your bare cheeks to feel the way they warm. loveliest lamb i’ve ever had the pleasure of caring for. set to be my favourite, at this rate. the most special.

that’s what the collar he buckles ‘round your neck seems to argue, too. fashioned himself out of full grain leather, dyed pink, antique buckle making a sturdy hook for the bell he will eventually procure.

you give in like he’d brought a meat tenderiser down on your flesh. pull apart like a well-cooked feast, unspooling all your ripe sentiments on his lap. as he sups on lamb chops — seated on his arm chair with you by his feet, making you suck his fingers clean — he tells you what to expect in your new home. the schedule, the other animals, your place within it all. you will not be given this treatment daily, yet it does not mean he loves you any less. most winter days, he’ll lay a bed of straw in the barn, assuring you that it’ll be away from the rams and their meddling horns, and come to check in on you when you can. that way, you’ll make friends who can keep you company while he’s busy.

and the way you nod, nose twitching under his heavy palm, hesitant but so trusting of the only kindness you’ve ever known — he can’t help but skip a few steps. promises you that if you get along with everyone well enough, if you’re good, he’ll reward you with a nice bath, trim, and private meal weekly. it’s the right thing to say, too, because your hips jut excitedly at the suggested luxury. just one taste of it and you’re so easily conditioned.

he can’t imagine how eager you’d be if he were to give you more. more; like fondling your doughy pussy as he is so tempted to do, kneading until you’re sloppy and soaked through your wool. like giving you a taste of climax, fingers foraging expertly within your walls, stretching your hole out to eventually supplant them with his cock. you’d move so well underneath him, fluffy and malleable, legs moved up and out of the way to press against your teats. if he knows anything, he knows sheep acquiesce to handling like butter to the knife. he could bend you, tie you, pick you up in whatever way he sees fit, and you’d take it. all he has to do in return is make you squirt messily onto the soft grass, and pump you full of his seed until you cannot clean yourself out without the help of his hand and a hose.

all in due time.

#༄dee answers #there’s a place for shepherd dog gaz here somewhere #farmer price is just so special to me okay :’)#he deserves a pretty thing that blindly trusts whatever he says #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #hybrid!reader #john price #sheepgirl!au

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kiefbowl · 7 months

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as a horny woman, I can assure you, when women want to fuck, you can do almost nothing wrong. show us you have a stocked fridge with fresh produce. show us you own one (1) book. doesn't even have to be a good one. have a bathroom at least as clean as our own bathroom. tell us some good natured jokes. say nothing racist or the word bitch. drink only one beer. ask us a single question.

the fact that men constantly FUMBLE horny women is a testament to their idiocy. you can't put on some barry white and light a candle? what are you stoopid???? big dumb fucko stupid 4chan porn addicted losers whining all day long about some alpha beta omega who gives a shit pseudo science cooked up by shut ins...just be NORMALLLLL

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yoonavii · 1 year

Text

Flirting with fire (pt.1)

OPLA! Sanji x Reader

A/n: I’ve never really been a Sanji girl but ever since the live action came out, I’m starting to love Sanji more and more XD also! The gif is from @adragonswhimsy. They have nice gifs so do check them out!

The kitchen at the Baratie was a hive of activity, but amidst the clattering pots and pans, you were in your own world, meticulously chopping and prepping ingredients for the next day's meals. It was a role you took seriously, a way to contribute your skills to the Baratie and help Zeff, who had been like a father to you. As the evening wore on, the day's rush finally subsided. It was now nighttime, and you were still engrossed in your work, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables the only sound in the kitchen. That is until the door swung open, and a familiar voice greeted you.

"Hey there, Y/N" Sanji's voice was like music, smooth and warm. You turned to see him standing there, a pile of dirty plates in his arms, his trademark cigarette perched between his lips. "Hey, Sanji," you replied, smiling warmly. You and Sanji had known each other for years, having become close friends while growing up together on the Baratie. Your bond was special, different from his usual interactions with women. It was more like that of close siblings.

Sanji set the dirty plates down, his eyes never leaving you. He leaned casually against the counter, watching your skilled hands work the knife. "What's cookin'?" he asked, a playful grin on his face. You chuckled, glancing up at him. "Just prepping for tomorrow. You know how it is," you replied, a hint of pride in your voice. Cooking was your passion, and you were good at it.

As you explained the dish you were preparing, something unexpected happened. In a fleeting moment of distraction, the knife nicked your finger, and you winced, withdrawing your hand. Sanji's reaction was immediate. He abandoned his casual posture, moving swiftly to your side. Taking your injured hand gently, he examined the cut with concern in his eyes. "Careful now; You know that knives aren’t something to be frivolous with." he scolded, though his voice held a note of genuine worry.

Your heart fluttered at his touch and his worry. "I know, I know," you said, attempting to brush it off. "Just a little slip." But Sanji was focused on tending to your wound. He fetched a small first-aid kit and carefully cleaned and bandaged your finger. His hands were surprisingly gentle, a far cry from his usual intense demeanor.

As he worked, you couldn't help but notice the sudden tension in the air. It was different from your usual interactions. The closeness, the intimacy of the moment—it felt charged with unspoken emotions. Sanji finished bandaging your finger and looked up at you, his face a shade pinker than usual. "There," he said softly. "All better."

Your heart raced as you met his gaze. With a playful grin, you couldn't resist teasing him a little. "Thanks, Sanji," you said, your voice low and sultry. "You always take such good care of me.” Sanji's eyes widened, and he blinked in surprise. It was clear your comment had caught him off guard, and his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. It was a rare sight to see the ever-confident Sanji flustered.

You couldn't help but giggle at his reaction, feeling a newfound sense of closeness between you two. The playful banter continued late into the night, the tension gradually giving way to a comfortable warmth that only seemed to grow stronger with time. As the kitchen lights dimmed, you and Sanji found yourselves sitting at a quiet corner of the restaurant, sharing stories and laughter. It was a night unlike any other, and it left both of you with a lingering sense of something unspoken—a connection that went beyond friendship.

The night eventually came to an end, and you realized just how late it had become. You stretched, feeling the exhaustion of a long day's work catching up to you. "I should get some rest," you said, stifling a yawn. Sanji nodded in agreement, though there was a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. It's been a busy day."

As you both made your way to your respective rooms, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Sanji. It was as if a door had been opened, revealing a deeper layer of your relationship—one that held the promise of something more than friendship. Little did you know that this night would be the beginning of a journey filled with laughter, shared dreams, and the blossoming of a love that had always been there, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

PART TWO

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

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mrsparrasblog · 4 months

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Take Me to Church

Summary: John MacTavish, the black sheep of his traditional chatolic family, hides his polyamorous relationship with his boyfriend Simon and you their pregnant plus-size girlfriend from his judgmental relatives. When you visit his family while being 9 months pregnant you need to face the reality of his cruel family.

Normaly I think his parents are the most supportive folks but this idea popped up in my head.

TW: Pregnancy, mention of labour, mention of homophobia, fat phobia and strong catholic beliefs, has a happy end

John MacTavish was always the black sheep of his family, and for most of his adult life, he was okay with it. Seeing his family only three times a year made him endure the hate he got from his brothers. In their humble opinion, he was wasting his life; a career in the military wasn’t sustainable. He would risk his life for what? For no wife to come home to and no bairn. If they had seen his single-room bachelor apartment in Glasgow, they would cringe even more. Moving to Glasgow was another thing they disapproved of. He could have lived on the farm like every other MacTavish, crowded with all his nephews. He really loved them, but coming back from every deployment to help on the farm left him with no freedom and several set-up dates with "proper" Scottish girls.

If it had been his grandma’s choice, he’d marry a thin, catholic Scottish girl. And despite the girls being absolutely beautiful, it just wasn’t what he wanted. John MacTavish only had four wants in his life, and his family could only respect one of them (the want for a good whiskey). Becoming a Military Captain wasn’t one of them, dating his Lieutenant (coming out as BI would be an early grave for his grandparents and dad), and his fourth want was you, the beautiful, soft girl who made him and his Lieutenant go crazy. His family would have approved of you being a girl, but you being an atheist, not from Scotland, a plus-sized girl (which he and Simon absolutely adored), and you being in a relationship with both of them at the same time, would be another matter. Sometimes he laughed thinking about what would scare his family more: him being bi, only dating soft, curvy women, being in a poly relationship, or dating two "foreigners." He decided the poly thing would be the final death blow for his family.

So he hid this side of himself for years, hurting himself and, more importantly in his eyes, hurting you and Simon. Both of you tried hard not to act hurt when you spent another Christmas without him because he needed to attend his family gatherings without his dark secret.

The thing about secrets is they can never be kept, especially if his secret was crying in his strong arms with the famous device with two lines in your hands. “Johnny, what am I gonna do?” you sobbed while he tried everything to ease your mind. He knew it was his, always knew. Simon couldn’t be the dad; he had decided as soon as he was 18 to go to the doctors and take the responsibility to never have children.

The first months of the pregnancy were beautiful despite all the throwing up. When you thought you had two guard dogs before the pregnancy, you were so wrong. You didn’t even know that people could get so protective. Simon was attached to your hip every second he wasn’t on deployment, shooting death glares at anyone who even dared to look at you. Johnny didn’t allow you to clean or cook. “Won't let ma pregnant girl cook. What kind of lad do you think I am?” Johnny huffed as you complained about being pregnant and not sick. Even the sex got better; you were living the life with your two perfect boyfriends.

To his surprise, Simon was happy about the news. A child wasn’t something he thought was in his cards, but with you and Johnny, it could be possible. Even if he had the fear that the baby would only accept Johnny as his dad, you immediately told him that he was an idiot—the child would see him as the dad he was. "Who cares about fucking biology?"

Until your last weeks of pregnancy, when it was finally time to drop the bomb on Johnny’s parents. You wanted grandparents and uncles for your baby so badly. In the end, you regretted your decision.

Scotland, Kingussie

You wore a cute sundress, one of the only things that still fitted you since the pregnancy. You looked radiant; pregnancy suited you. And Johnny’s hand in yours, waiting for his parents to open the door. Johnny told you only half the truth when he said his parents were happy to meet you. They were, they just didn’t know half of it. And you were long asleep when Johnny and Simon had a fight about him finally telling his parents about him and that he mattered too. This didn’t help you prepare for what would happen once you entered the cozy farm in Scotland.

The door opened, and an older woman hugged Johnny immediately. “We missed you, my sweet boy. Show me the lovely lass you brought home.” One glance at you was enough to make her gasp. “Dear God, you’re pregnant!” Her blue eyes scrutinized you. To her credit, she really tried to hide her disgust, not wanting to judge you. “Is it yours, son?”

“Mom, of course it’s mine.”

“Well, congratulations.”

She walked inside the house while you and Johnny removed your shoes. Both of you fell into an awkward silence. “Johnny, what the fuck was that?”

“Mo leannan, I’m sorry. They’re a bit catholic, but they mean well, I promise.”

“Johnny…”

“Please, give them a small chance, and then we can leave whenever you want.”

You sat down at the enormous table. Fourteen pairs of blue eyes stared at you like you were a foreign alien invading their beloved home.

“So, you’re Johnny’s lass?” his father asked gruffly.

“Yes, Johnny and I have been dating for four years,” you smiled softly. Simon and Johnny were the best four years of your life.

“Four years, so I assume that bairn is yours, Johnny?”

“Of course it’s his,” you snapped, offended that he even asked. You would never cheat on Simon and Johnny. There wasn’t even a reason—the relationship and the sex were perfect.

“I didn’t talk to you, lass. I asked my son.”

“Dad, of course it’s mine.”

“So, you’re telling me that you compromised that poor girl?”

“Compromised?” you asked, confused.

“Not even English by her lack of vocabulary,” his grandfather chimed in.

“I told you, Johnny, you can’t just let your urges win. Look at you, knocking that poor woman up and not even asking for her hand in pòsadh,” his father gripped the table, trying to calm himself down.

“Do you know how much shame you bring to this family, Johnny? I would have given you your great-grandma’s ring, but no, you decided to take the MacTavish name even further into ruin. We accepted all your poor choices, lad, but now you’ve got a non-Scottish girl knocked up without any wedlock.”

“It’s not like the ring would have fit on her fat finger anyway,” his brother mocked, and that was Johnny’s final straw. He grabbed your hand, ready to leave.

“I won’t bother you with my shame anymore. Come, mo leannan.”

“Please, Johnny, stay. I promise Dad and Grandpa won’t say a word. We just never heard of you having a girlfriend, and now she’s pregnant. It’s a big shock.”

Johnny wanted to protest, but you really wanted your baby to have grandparents to love her. You whispered in Johnny’s ear that you needed to stay, at least try it for Sophia’s sake.

Another choice you regretted as soon as you saw haggis on your plate. “Johnny, what’s this?”

“I’m sorry, mo leannan. I told them you’re vegetarian,” he said apologetically.

“It’s good for the baby, lass. At least try it before you mock it,” she said, and you hated yourself for being a people-pleaser because the minute you tasted it, you ran to the toilet, throwing it up.

“That was a tad dramatic.”

“I get it, lass. When I was pregnant with my cute Johnny, I couldn’t hold anything in. Do you already have a name?” His mother really tried to make amends, giving you a bit of slack while his other family members couldn’t.

“Yes, we thought about Sophia.”

“That’s not a Scottish name,” his mother’s tone was full of disappointment.

“You cheated on John!” his grandpa started to scream at you.

“What?”

“The MacTavish family has never born a girl. Never.”

“Grandpa, you better shut your mouth.”

“How dare you talk this way to me in my own house!”

“Mo leannan, start the car already. We’re leaving.”

You went as fast as your swollen pregnant legs could carry you, trying to close your ears to the conversation.

“You won’t see my bairn. You disrespected the fucking love of my life. Who cares if she isn’t Scottish, or not Catholic, or fat? I fucking love her like this. She is the most intelligent, funny, beautiful woman on earth, and I’m going to have at least three babies with her, and you won’t see any of them. Or me. And by the way, I also fuck a man too.” He ignored the screams of his grandfather, how he was disowned, the pleading of his mother to rethink his choice. All he needed was to get back to you, the baby, and drive you to Simon, his perfect family.

“Mo leannan, I’m sorry. I should have done this years ago.”

“I just want to go home, Johnny. I’ve had enough.” You weren’t sure if you wanted to be mad at him or thankful for protecting you and your baby like this. But before you could decide on that, your shoes were already soaked. “Johnny, the water broke.”

“Yeah, I’ll fix it at home.”

“What?”

"Well, I don’t have a screwdriver here, and I won’t ask my dad for one."

"Why do you need a screwdriver?"

"To fix the car. You said the water broke; you meant the leak, right? Simon was already on it, but I guess it’s opened again."

"No, Johnny, my fucking water broke."

He stared at you in horror before he scooped you up and started to run. "Where are you running, Johnny?"

"To the hospital."

"We have a bloody car."

"But it’s leaking."

"Johnny, I’m leaking, not the bloody car," you screamed in pain after one of your first contractions.

"Fucking hell, I can bring that baby. I helped a cow with labor; it’s the same, right?"

"Johnny, you’re going to drive me to a fucking hospital. I’m not some highland cow."

-----------------------------

After 16 hours of painful labor (MacTavish babies are huge), your sweet girl was finally born, and Johnny didn’t even faint, much to Simon’s surprise, who almost caused six car crashes on the way to you. And now you were lying in bed, barely awake, looking at your tiny bundle of joy in Simon’s burly arms. It was enough to make a grown man cry. Kyle, Johnny, and Simon were just amazed by the baby.

The door went wide open. "How is my girl?" John ran towards your bed, looking to see if you were injured, hurt, and alive, holding you tight in his arms. He didn’t even look once at Sophia; he was just too afraid about you. "Sorry, I was afraid something happened to you with these muppets." You always wished to experience a father’s love, and right now you realized you didn’t need to have Johnny’s dad or grandpa for this—you had Captain Price.

"It’s okay, Dad," and this was enough to make Price bawl his eyes out. He always wanted a daughter, but infertility was a cruel curse on him. He kissed your forehead. "Let me look at my granddaughter." He accepted this role without hesitation, when you saw your baby between her two loving fathers, her uncle Kyle, and her Grandpa Price, you knew she already had the family you were searching for.

A/N: I don't approve of anything his family said if this isn't clear, I was almost in the same situation (without pregnancy) meeting the strongly prejudiced grandma of my partner. So please don't come at me with hate, already have enough of it in my asks :)

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gremlingottoosilly · 11 months

Text

The only thing you want to do is... [Price x fem!Reader]

Price broke his hand on the last mission. Fortunately for him, his caretaker is just as adorable as she is eager to help him in every way.

CW and tags: Legal age gap, power imbalance, daddy kink, pervert!Price, obsessive!Price, coercion into sex, handjob (m!receiving)

Word count: 3246

This work on AO3

You’re such a sunshine, it hurts.

John Price never considered himself to be a good man. He did what he had to do to protect his country, to ensure that big bad terrorists are kept at bay, and foreign militaries are ending up where they belong – somewhere in the ditch, with reports stating KIA an anonymous bullet drugged out of their skulls.

His job was just that – a job, something that had to be done because he knew that someone else, someone worse, would gladly take his place in case of retirement. The captain can be considered a fucking angel compared to some people he is working with – no one would ever dare call him evil when people like Graves still exist out there, hunting for innocents.

But you’re so fucking sweet to him, he simply can’t handle it.

When his arm got injured, and he was forced to get on leave for at least a month – he tried to argue for something less, but Lasswell silently pointed out that he hadn’t had a break in the past five years, and she would kick him out of his own Task Force if he’d continue to refuse – he got assigned a caretaker by Kate recommendation.

John was fully expecting some old lady, probably a retired officer or field medic. Maybe some burly man with too much time on his hands and the ability to give really nice massages under flights of bullets. Perhaps, worst case scenario, he would be assigned an actual; nurse that wouldn’t buy any of his shit – that amount of whiskey he drinks is prescribed by his therapist, smoking cigars in the apartment is a nice form of relaxation, and he actually doesn’t need help and can go in service back again less than in two weeks.

But, the Captain got wee ol’ you, all nice and warm, and adorable, and too fucking young to have anything to do with his apartment.

You’re nice, warm, fresh out of college, where you got some recommendations about rehabilitating veterans back into normal lives. Probably was writing a Thesis about something as dumb as “Healing PTSD through flower crowns and little touches”. You chirp your way into his heart and refuse to go out – just like Kate promised to him, you really didn’t allow him to do anything on his own.

God, it was infuriating – how much he wanted to simply grab your shoulders and kiss you. Or kick you out and find someone else to take care of him, someone boring, someone of appropriate age. Without dumb, bright eyes and cute smiles, without enthusiasm, that can only be seen in unpaid interns and college graduates who still believe that the world is fair and nice.

You cook his dinners and clean up his apartment – as small as it is, never having a family or any other reason to make it even slightly bigger – and you do this with such a wide smile on your face it actually makes Price question basically everything he knows about young ladies doing charity work. You must be paid triple because you fold his underwear in neat little cubes and refuse to accept his help. Always chirped something about his hand like he can’t kill a man with his teeth only.

— I can fold my own pants, love.

He presses his body against the doorframe of the small bathroom – looks at your ass so shamelessly bent over the washing machine. You’re folding his dried clothes, and he can only pray that you aren’t slowly resenting him for being such a disgusting old man. He knew he looked good for his age, 37 years in this world molded him into something that many young women would consider hot – even though his beard is unkept and his hair grew a bit longer since he couldn’t be arsed to do anything about it, and his dominant hand is broken.

— We don’t want to sprain your hand even more, right? — Everythin’ is alright with my bloody hand…

— Lady Lasswell said I shouldn’t listen to you like this, sir. Sorry.

— Little minx.

— Me or Lady Lasswell?

John looks at you, so eager and cheerful, and he just wants to…he can’t, of course, he stops himself before he even forms the thought because it’s dirty and you don’t deserve this, and your shy smile as you laugh softly and push the last of the laundry in the neat pile on the washing machine.

You look too eager to please, and he has an idea – the one he will never act upon. Maybe will entertain himself later, stroking himself in some abandoned base deep in the snowy tundra, trying to remember your warmth as if a sinner like him can even comprehend your light.

God, you got him so bad, he starts thinking about good ol’ Jesus again. You really are a side to behold, aren’t ya.

He looks at you again – you’re so easy to please. You cook for him, the smell of home cooking that he almost forgot, all the ingredients you invited yourself to buy when he left his card for you. You didn’t think it was weird, not a single mischievous bone in your body – if anything, he was casually prompting you to go and buy yourself something nice, something as compensation for all the trouble you endured for him.

Instead, you went out of your way to cook for him, to make him tea like he wanted it – without sugar, but with a small amount of milk poured into a cup that is probably the most expensive thing in this whole place except for his weapons.

The problem is – John Price doesn’t really like it when people are taking care of him. Not because he is shy or insecure, god forbid, but because he knows that if a pretty young thing like you is going to show him kindness, he will take a fucking mile and make you run from him as fast as you can. He has desires, he has needs, something that pretty good girls like you should know nothing about.

You’re so eager to please that you’ll probably jerk him off if he were to whine about his arm being broken and his inability to get himself off because of it. Which, in turn, gives him an…idea.

Price was never a good person – he isn’t the worst guy either. He sees your reactions, that adorable heat of your face when he brushes his knuckles over your cheek in an affectionate manner. How you are biting your lips every time you have to fold his underwear, when you cook for him, and he presses his body against yours, rocking his hips just gently enough to not make his arousal obvious. John knows you like him in more ways than just one – he doubts that such a lovegirl like you would ever agree to take care of a grumpy military man like him.

He wonders where your father is – probably out of the picture if his precious daughter is almost crying from a desire to please a guy like him. He wonders if you have a boyfriend or if you’re seeing someone else – if you’re a virgin or you already had a series of disappointing sessions with blokes that have no idea how to behave with an angel like you.

Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be taking care of a SAS captain – did your superiors forget to tell you just how girl-hungry men like him are? That he didn’t even bother to find a wife, and the loneliness of a single life will make him fucking explode if a girl as pretty as you were in the vicinity of that perverted old dog. You must be stupid – or so insanely naive, it’s not even funny.

He licks his lips, staring at you again. He is certainly isn’t a good guy – not the worst either, but it’s up for debate. He wants to hold you close and say all of those pretty good things he knows you want to hear. He also wants to push you as close to him as possible and just fuck that pretty girl until you’re begging for him to make you his wife. He’d always laugh at the thought of other military commanders and higher rank soldiers having sugar babies – especially the mercs and their fucking inability to keep a girl who isn’t tied to their paychecks. But now…he might just pay for your adorable pout and eagerness.

Might make a call to that one masked arsehole and ask how the hell he keeps his questionably young wife around without breaking her legs. Visibly, at least.

— Sir? Planet calls for Captain Price.

You giggle when you are waving your hand around him. Shit – looks like he zoned out for a hot minute, leaving you free to stare at his face, the fantom red spreading across his skin as if he is actually embarrassed to be caught like this. He isn’t, of course, he is stronger than some girl trying to get a rise out of him. He thinks he is stronger, at least.

You wave your hand in front of his face again, and the insects are kicking in – captain grabs your hand, not even caring that his supposed helplessness stems from the fact his dominant hand is still broken. He has no problems keeping you in place with just his left hand – and you almost look scared when you understand that you literally can’t move.

Your innocent smile turns into a pathetic whimper when he squeezes you even more. Bruises, no doubt, are starting to form already – well, it should be your fault. Good girls are usually smarter than teasing an old dog like him, even if you’re trying to play innocence. He knows what you are.

His future special girl that is. A wife, if he plays his cards right…and the captain was always good at poker.

— Shite, love. Sorry.

His smile mirrors yours – an innocent display like he didn’t almost break your wrist in his hold. He is still squeezing your hand, but not he slowly presses his lips against your knuckles – thin, dry lips gently caressing your skin in a gesture that you should never accept from a guy who kills people as a job. Who saves people, too – but a good guy with a gun is barely an upgrade from a bad one.

He kisses your fingers and finds heaven in the feeling of your soft skin against his lips. You are certainly embarrassed, and this is exactly what he wants – an old pervert trying to get in the pants of a cute girl who just wants to take care of him without any strings attached. He just has to make this whale thing complicated, isn’t he?

— It’s okay, sir. Just thought I lost you for a second.

— Not a chance.

Your smile looks a tad bit mischievous – that is, or he is simply hallucinating from painkillers he is forced to drink every morning because you refuse to let him feel pain even though he is used to it. You are acting like he is a soft doll made out of pink ribbons and soft plushes, not a seasoned soldier with his own thoughts and ideas about what he can do about your desire to please him. He might just use your eagerness – his cock has been pitching for too long without female attention, and he usually doesn’t indulge in shitty one-night stands in some sketchy pubs, but he can make an exception for now. For you.

You smile awkwardly, still trying to get your hand out of his grasp. Little minx, teasing him like he can’t just push you on this exact washing machine and fuck you like a slut you are. Poor girl, you probably don’t even know what kind of thoughts he has in his head – even though your eyes tell him something your lips cannot articulate.

John acts on his instincts, and they usually don’t deceive him.

— If you want to help so badly, I can think of another way.

— Is that so, sir? You’re going to get him in so much shit with Lasswell, he doesn’t even know how he is going to get out of it after fucking her best little protege. Would have to marry you – like it’s not his end goal, like he doesn’t want to make your care for him a tad bit more permanent. He has done so many good things for humanity, why can’t he be a bit selfish and get himself a little something to make this place feel more like home?

He thinks of a pretty thing like you, heavy with his kids, cooking something nice and hearty in his house – not this crappy apartment, of course, he’d buy you something in the countryside, away from terrorists and public squares, with good schools and greenery all around.

You lick your lips and tilt your head to the side. He is daydreaming again.

— If you want to make me relax so badly, love, there is something I need help with…

Beating around the bush like this isn’t in his character – but he knows that you’re a good girl, maybe way too good and proper. He can’t just shove his dick in your hand, it would be too unpolite.

He has to prepare you, it’s a slow sniper mission where he needs to approach you as gently and quietly as possible – he still holds your hand in his, a phantom of his lips tucked away on the softness of your skin.

Then he places his hand on his growing erection – as awkwardly as he can operate with only using his left arm as a helper.

Price might not be the master of espionage, but he also didn’t get his rank for not being able to do cover missions under pressuring circumstances and lie in the faces of people who trust him. Not be the best person, of course, but he gives you a choice. You have all the power now – even with his weapons safely stashed in his bedroom, he knows he won’t ever try to force you. He won’t have to.

— Help your captain, eh?

You’re embarrassed, shy, scared even – your hands are trembling, fingers tracing the outline of his cock with morbid curiosity he never thought he’d find this adorable. You don’t stop and don’t try to fight him – like a little animal, nervous and terrified somewhat, you’re slowly indulging yourself in something that you actually shouldn’t.

He lets go of your hand and allows you to continue on your own – like a good girl, you only nod and slowly duck your palm in his boxers. He’d say that the way he is rock-solid just from looking at your ass and pouting on your face is weak, but he can afford to be a bit pathetic after so many weeks without the ability to jerk off. With your watchful gaze, he just couldn’t find it in his heart – or the only remaining working hand – to do something to help with his raging crush on this adorable social worker who comes to help him.

John is many things – a war hero, war criminal, the captain, and the butcher of many who may deem his actions irredeemable. He made peace with not being the poster good guy and often dirtying his hands just to keep the world clean – and he knows that, in the end, he deserves a pretty young thing to jerk him off while he kisses your hairline and whispers sweet nothing with that beautiful accent of his.

— This is not very… appropriate, sir.

— Bullocks, love. You’re helpin’, that’s why you’re here.

You’re nervous when your hand, squeezing his shaft firmly, goes up and down on his cock. You’re trying to find the rhythm in his quiet grunts and little moans, not having too much experience with pleasuring men who you like this much. It’s fear of disappointing him that makes you go wild, that approving gaze of his every time you press your soft fingers against the head of his cock and squeeze a little.

He is throbbing in your palm, pre-cum leaking on the small of your fingers – naturally, you lick it as slowly as possible, not breaking the eye contact.

Price moans.

— Bloody hell, luv…so good for daddy.

The name makes your ears burn, the desire growing in your stomach – you fight the urge to drop on your knees and take him fully in your mouth. This isn’t what he wants, you think, so you just continue to squeeze him more, making sure he is satisfied with every little movement your hand makes. You lick your lips and continue, feeble attempts at containing the rhythm with shaky fingers.

— I just wanted to help you with your life, not…this.

He chuckles, unharmed hand presses on the small of your back to fix you in place. You lick your lips, understanding that he is not going to let you go this easily – you don’t want to behave like this, of course, it’s against the terms of your contract and your agreement to help him without feelings attached, but he moans so deeply for you, hips are buckling to fuck the firmness of your hand like he is ready to use your moist, prepared pussy.

God, what are you even thinking about?

You don’t know if you should be doing this, but the captain is not letting you go – and you can’t even do anything against his wishes, can you?

— We really shouldn’t be doing this.

— Quiet. I’ll help you out after my hand is healed, eh? — This isn’t what I’m talking about, sir.

— Now, let’s not use that here. I’m sir in the field, not here.

He is manipulating you as hard as he can – he can feel the tension in your eyes and the way you’re squeezing his cock, and he wants nothing more but to simply push you harder, make you fall apart in his hold like a precious porcelain vase. You’re sensitive and shy, just perfect for a bastard like him – his only regret is that the dumb cast on his right hand won’t really allow him to relax to have sex with you properly.

He will pay you back later – on your back, on your knees, on your tummy, moaning his name as he plunges his seed deep into you. It was about time he’d settle down with a pretty wife of his own – he can afford you, certainly.

— I can’t call you daddy, it’s embarrassing…

Your shy words are what send him over the edge. John Price was never a good guy to begin with, but your little pleas are enough to make him cum – and it’s certainly one of the biggest sins he has ever committed. Cute girl like you shouldn’t be so embarrassed about jerking him off, but here you are.

Your hands are covered in cum as he continues to release his seed, only sad because he wasn’t able to breed you properly – that’s the agenda for the time when he finally is freed from this dumb cast. Might just ask Lasswell for extended leave.

— You’ll just have to get used to this, love. Not letting you go after this.

You can only whimper when he kisses you – possessive and tender at the same time. A silent promise of making you his dumb little wife.

#cod #yandere price #price x reader #captain price #john price #captain john price #yandere cod #call of duty #cod imagine #cod fanfic

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roosterforme · 6 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 58 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is hesitant to drive his family to Disneyland, and he's even more hesitant to make love to you. All he seems to be able to think about is the baby and his desire to plan the perfect, low-key wedding, but you make sure he takes some time to relax.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Bradley couldn't ever remember being this stressed out in his life. Well, besides every single time he had to deal with Meredith. The weeks had absolutely flown by, probably because he was not so secretly dreading driving up to Disneyland for Thanksgiving weekend. He'd voiced his opinions and concerns several times, but apparently your doctor's answer overrode his. Disneyland was happening, and the only thing he'd been able to insist upon for his own peace of mind was the addition of Nat.

Thanksgiving dinner at Mav and Penny's had been relaxing and peaceful. Bradley hadn't been home for the holiday the past two years, and it felt good to have a day to just appreciate everyone around him. Having you there made all the difference, and he knew he wanted you with him for every holiday from now on. You tried to help Penny cook and clean up, but everyone else insisted you rest and just enjoy yourself.

That was just a few hours ago, and now the sun had set, and Noah was in his pajamas. Bradley buckled him in the backseat of the Bronco before checking to make sure all of the bags made their way in as well. That's when he heard the argument coming from the sidewalk.

"You can sit in the front," you insisted. "I don't mind sitting in the back with Noah."

"No, no," Nat replied, "I insist. I'll sit in the back so you can sit with Bradley."

"But I kind of want to sit with Noah," you told her. "You can sit with Bradley and talk about work."

"Or," Nat replied, "you and he can hammer out some of the wedding details while you sit in the front with him."

"Are you both serious right now?" Bradley asked as he slammed the tailgate shut. "Neither of you want to sit with me?"

He held his arms out to his sides, and you rushed over to give him a hug with a little smirk on your face. "I'm sorry, Daddy," you whispered, pressing your cheek to his chest and giving him a hug. "It's just that Noah is so sweet, and he'd probably hold my hand until he falls asleep."

Nat used this opportunity to get herself situated next to Noah with a bright smile on her face. "You know, I expect this kind of thing from her, but not from you, Princess," Bradley said before kissing the top of your head. "Get in the front and hold my hand instead?"

Thirty minutes later, Bradley was driving up the highway, and he was the only one awake as your hand rested softly in his. He stroked your knuckles and your ring as he wove along the roads on the way up to Anaheim. "I can't believe what you've done to my life," he whispered, shaking his head but smiling. At the beginning of the year, he'd been stressed out pretty much all the time. He would have never planned a trip to Disneyland just for him and Noah, because every day felt impossible back then. If he was honest with himself, every day still felt challenging now with Noah getting older and the baby on the way, but nothing was ever harder because of you. It was always better.

He heard rustling in the backseat, and when he glanced in his mirror, he saw that Nat was awake. "Javy texted me," she said with a yawn when she met his eyes. "He said your dog is a pussy magnet."

Bradley snorted. "Let me guess. He took her for a walk and women came out of the woodwork to talk to him?"

She hummed and said, "Maybe leaving Skittles with him for the weekend was a bad idea."

"Nah," Bradley replied, stifling his laughter. "I'm sure he told them that he already has a really mean girlfriend and that she would kick their asses if they looked at him too long."

She leaned forward and smacked the back of his head. "I'm not mean."

"Sure, Nat."

"Hey, I did the impossible by finding you a wife. That's nice person shit right there."

"Yet with the undertone of condescension," Bradley replied, making her laugh. "I do owe you though. And you won't even let me say thank you."

This time she patted him gently on the back of his head. "You can say it one time."

"Thanks, Nat."

----------------------------

You vaguely remembered half walking and half being carried up to the hotel room in your state of exhaustion. Thanksgiving had taken more out of you than you thought considering you barely did anything to help Mav and Penny with dinner or dessert. But apparently the turkey made you sleepy. Everything was making you sleepy now. But you were finally past the progesterone shots, and your doctor said everything was looking good.

Friday morning when you woke up as the sun just started peeking in through the window, you jolted up in bed naked. Bradley was still asleep next to you, snoring softly, but you looked around the room a bit frantically. "Daddy," you gasped, shaking him awake. "Bradley! Where's Noah?"

He rolled onto his back and looked up at you through barely cracked open eyes. "Princess?" he rasped, simply reaching for you and trying to pull you back against him. But the other bed was empty, and your heart wouldn't calm down.

"Where's Noah?" you repeated, and now he started to sit up.

"Next door," he mumbled. "He's in the other room with Nat, Baby."

You placed your hand over your heart and eased yourself back down onto the pillow as you whispered, "Right. Right. Sorry, I just barely remember you even bringing me to the room last night."

"Don't apologize," he murmured next to your ear as he pulled you closer to him. "You're the best Mommy." His face was pressed against your neck and shoulder, and his arm was like a boa constrictor, tightening little by little until around your ribs until you were snug against him. You felt protected and loved as the sound of his steady breathing calmed you down. But he had morning wood, and you could feel Bradley's erection firm and long against the back of your thigh as he spooned you.

It had literally been months since you felt his cock thrusting inside you. You and he hadn't had vaginal intercourse since before he left for his special flight mission in Japan, and now you were aching painfully. Sure, you'd had fun getting him off with your hands, mouth and breasts for the last four weeks, and he'd been very generous with his lips, mustache and fingers. But you wanted him to fill you up.

"Bradley," you whispered, trying to figure out if he'd fallen back to sleep again behind you, but when he grunted your first name, you moaned. He bucked against you even though you knew he was trying not to. "My doctor said it's okay now."

His rough thumb was stroking your nipple as he rasped, "I know, but maybe we shouldn't risk it. I can wait until after the baby is born."

An absolutely scandalized noise escaped you. "I love you for that, Daddy, I really do, but I don't think I can make it five more months."

"I'll go down on you," he said, letting his hand skim along your growing belly until he was cupping your pussy. "Happily." But you were pinned between his rock hard cock and his hand, and you knew exactly what you needed.

"I want your cock," you demanded. "It's perfectly safe for the baby now that my uterus is fixed up. And I want it."

Rarely did you ever tell him that you wanted something, and you almost never whined, but the combination of the two seemed to set him off a little bit. He was twitching and pulsing against your leg, and you felt him reach down to free himself from the confines of his underwear. Skin on skin was enough to make you whine his name a little louder. When you eased your leg up and back over his hip, you could feel the tip of him rubbing against your wet pussy.

"Take me just like this. Nice and slow from behind," you whispered, and his only response was a long string of obscenities as he pushed his cock just an inch or so inside you.

"Baby," he ground out as his hand squeezed your hip. "Slow. Real slow. I don't want to hurt either of you."

You gasped, "You won't," as he slid himself deeper and deeper before eventually bottoming out with his hips pressed to your butt. "Oh god, you feel so good."

Bradley kept himself still, just like that, barely moving but filling you up regardless. "Shit," he whimpered next to your ear. "Fuck, it's been months." His voice was so rough, and his hot breath left goosebumps trailing down you back and arm. When you wiggled back against him, he grunted. "I'm not gonna last."

"I don't care," you told him, guiding his rough fingers to your clit and enjoying every sensation his body gave you. He smelled good, and he was warm and strong and big. Big everywhere. His lips found the spot right behind your ear, and he sucked gently. Your nipples were tender peaks, and your belly was just starting to show proof of your pregnancy. There was evidence of those days of rough sex from the summer all over your body, but right now he was gentler than ever.

"Am I hurting you?" he whispered before taking your earlobe between his lips. His thrusts were smooth and languid, and you could feel every bit of him.

"No. You're perfect." That had his fingers working a little more frantically on your clit, but he kept the same pace with his thrusts. Slow and steady and never rough.

But he got you there. "Baby," he whined, punching and plucking until you were sure your clit was a tight little ball of nerves against his fingertips. You started to squeeze around him, and he held still, more filthy cursing filling your ears as he spilled his cum inside you.

"Oh. Daddy," you moaned softly as you came in his embrace with his body pressed to your back. You couldn't stop yourself from bumping back against him as you fucked yourself gently along his cock, enjoying every little tremor and tremble.

"Tell me I didn't hurt you," he whispered, easing his wet fingers up along your belly, cupping where you imagined the baby was right now. "Please."

You turned to look at his earnest eyes over your shoulder and said, "You didn't hurt me."

"I love you, Princess." A series of soft knocks made you jump in his arms, and Bradley groaned as the knocking continued. He was still inside you as he said, "That's gotta be Noah."

You realized there was a door conjoining the next room with yours, and you could hear Noah's little voice calling out. "Daddy? Mommy? I want to meet Mickey Mouse."

With one more kiss to your shoulder, Bradley withdrew himself from your body, inspected his cock and then pulled his underwear back up. "Go make sure you're okay," he commanded as he stood. "I'll take care of Noah."

Carefully, still blissfully aware of the way that orgasm left your skin tingling, you made your way into the bathroom as Bradley's cum dribbled down your inner thighs. You cleaned yourself up, and there was no sign of blood at all. You took a quick shower, and you felt amazing. When you eventually emerged from the bathroom all wrapped up in your towel, you found your boys both dressed and ready to go and sitting on the edge of the unused bed.

"Mommy," Noah whined. "I'm hungry and I want to meet Mickey Mouse."

You bent and kissed his soft curls as you said, "Well take care of both of those things for you. Promise."

----------------------------

Disneyland was simultaneously the most wonderful and most anxiety inducing place Bradley had ever been. The look on Noah's face as the four of you explored the parks together made Bradley smile, but every time you started to look tired, he wasn't sure it was worth it. But then you'd smile at him, too. He'd give you anything you wanted.

"Are you okay?" he asked, collecting you in his arms as Nat rode the teacups with Noah for the third time in a row. "You sure I didn't hurt you this morning?"

A little smile curled along your glossy lips before you kissed him softly. Then you kissed him again and again. It was bad enough that you looked so much younger than him; he got a few raised eyebrows here and there. But then you always called him Daddy with absolutely no shame whatsoever. It always got under his skin and made him run a little hot, but now you had your belly pressed against him as you kissed your way back close to his ear.

"Daddy," you crooned. "You didn't hurt me one bit. You gave me exactly what I needed. Your big cock."

"Baby," he whispered, squeezing your hips in warning. "Don't get us kicked out of the happiest place on Earth."

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck. "You know what would make it even happier?"

"Don't say it," he rasped, shaking his head as you looked up at him. "I'm begging."

You just smirked. "Sneaking off to that family bathroom..."

Bradley tipped his head back and groaned while you giggled. "You said it."

Finally having sex again in the hotel room this morning before Noah practically kicked down the door in search of breakfast seemed to make you extra clingy. Not that Bradley minded one bit. He didn't. He loved it. But you had been alone when you had to go to the emergency room last month, and he was still on edge about everything that happened when he was in Japan.

When you started tugging on his arm, he shook his head again. "No. Not here. Only where I can be as gentle with you as possible."

Then you were in his arms again telling him how sweet he was, and Bradley was just a lost cause.

"I'm tapping out," Nat announced as she and Noah walked over hand in hand. "That ride is okay the first two times, but after that, it's evil."

"I loved it!" Noah announced as Bradley picked him up.

"Of course you did," he said, kissing his son's cheek. "What do you want to do now? Another ride? Get a snack?"

"Meet Mickey Mouse!"

Bradley groaned for an entirely different reason. The line to meet the characters was pretty long, but you'd insisted on buying something called an autograph book, so he said, "Sure, Bub. We can go meet the main mouse."

Bradley held hands with both you and Noah while Nat led the way, talking with her hands and bouncing like she was Tigger to make Noah giggle. Bradley was right, the line was long, but it was worth it. Noah didn't complain about how much time it was taking, but he did ask you to pick him up over and over again.

"Let me hold you," Nat offered, but Noah kept reaching for you instead. When Bradley told him he was too heavy, tears filled his eyes and his face scrunched up.

"Sweet Noah," you whispered, kissing his cheek and kind of cuddling up with him while he was in Bradley's arms. "Don't cry. I'm right here. I'm just not allowed to lift things like big, growing boys who love dinosaurs and coloring books, okay?" You wiped at his tears with your thumbs, and Bradley was once again mesmerized by you. "That's better," you told him. "I don't want you to cry right before we get to meet Mickey Mouse."

Noah sniffled and nodded, and you didn't move away from his as the line moved up. "You're amazing," Bradley whispered. "Mommy of the year."

"There he is!" Nat gasped, perhaps more excited than all of the kids in the line put together. "Mickey! And I'm not talking about Fanboy!"

Bradley chuckled as the Mouse beckoned them forward to take photos.

------------------------

"How about we ride something else?" Bradley asked, but you watched Noah tug him back toward It's a Small World.

"This is my favorite!"

"Noah," he laughed, "you've said that about every single ride all day long."

"No, this one," Noah insisted.

"Just one more time?" you asked, also tugging on Bradley.

"We've been on it seven times in a row," he insisted, shaking his head.

"Six times," Nat replied, pushing him from behind.

"Natasha, the song is going to kill me," he said, taking a few steps toward the line queue again. "I'll never be able to get it out of my head."

But the three of you won, of course. Because he was willing to do anything that you and Noah wanted. And that included riding a boat past legions of slightly creepy, singing, animatronic children. "You'll be fine," you insisted, rubbing his abs. "After this, we'll feed you dinner."

"You better," he mumbled, winking at you. "And I need more Mickey shaped snacks, too."

To your delight and Noah's, Bradley willingly rode It's a Small World three more times and sang the song nearly the whole time. "I'm going to annoy you with this forever," he whispered in your ear as the little boat sailed along.

You looked up at him and said, "Please do. That means you'll be around forever."

His eyes widened in soft surprise. "I'm not going anywhere." You felt his thumb run across your engagement ring where he was holding your hand in his lap. "Just a couple more weeks and we'll be married."

The fact that he was taking care of most of the planning without showing any signs of stress was amazing to you. As the song played on repeat and the dancing animatronics spun around, you tapped your foot. "You really want to get married so soon?" you asked him.

"Hell yes. I already told you I did."

"Even if it's just a backyard wedding?"

Bradley gave you all of his focus like you were the only thing in his world when he said, "All we really need is both of us and Noah for it to be perfect."

"Technically we also need Natasha," you added, and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine. We also need Natasha. But that's only because she got ordained online. Other than that, I don't really care about the details too much. I just want to see you in a wedding dress."

You bit your lip and moaned. "Nothing fits me great right now. And I feel like my belly is really going to pop out one day soon."

"I can't wait," he grunted, making you shiver at the tone of his voice. "Jesus, I hope your belly gets bigger in the next three weeks."

His lips found your neck, and this time you were the one who had to remind him that you were very much in the middle of Disneyland sharing a seat in the boat with Nat and Noah. But now you had a better idea of what kind of dress you should get; you'd been holding off, hoping to figure out how to get one that would still fit for the big day.

"So you want to be able to see the bump in the wedding photos?"

"Princess," he grunted. "God, yes. But don't you dare make me hard on It's a Small World."

You were still laughing as the boat floated up to the exit and you climbed out.

-----------------------

"Stop," you and Nat whined in unison as Bradley started singing the Small World song again on the drive back to San Diego on Sunday. But he just smiled and finished, dodging away from your hand as you tried to cover his mouth from the passenger seat. This time, he saw you and Nat playing rock, paper, scissors to see who got to sit in the back with Noah. Your rock lost to her paper, so you were in the front with him.

"This is your punishment for being mean," he said as Noah napped. "And I'm talking to both of you."

"I'm just happy that you loved Disneyland," you said over his singing. You were looking at wedding dresses on your phone and holding the selections up for Nat to look at. Bradley had to fight to keep his eyes on the road instead of the screen, but he honestly did want to be surprised.

"Hey, what am I supposed to wear?" he asked, realizing that you'd seen him in most of his nicer clothes when he was leaving you at home with Noah to go on app dates. He'd have to buy something new, something just for you. Something to make the day special.

"Doesn't matter," Nat said followed by a low whistle as she held your phone. "Nobody will even notice you if your wife is wearing this dress. Holy shit."

Bradley glanced in the rear view mirror to make sure Noah was still asleep. "It's that good?" he asked as you looked a little bashful next to him. "Buy it. Put it on your princess card."

"It has two-day shipping," Nat said. "If you don't like it, we can go out and look at some other options on Wednesday after work."

"I don't know..." you said, hesitating as you took your phone back and looked at whichever dress Nat thought was perfect.

"Buy it, Baby, or I won't shut up for the next hour." Bradley cleared his throat and started singing, "It's a world of laughter, a world of tears. It's a world of hopes, and a world of fears."

"Fine!" you said, scrambling with your phone as Nat covered her ears. "I'm buying it!"

Bradley smiled at the road before him and muttered, "Gotta love Disney."

-----------------------

If you have Princess wedding dress inspo (that will show off her little bump just like Bradley is hoping) please send it to me! I'm thinking we will end up with 62 parts for this story, which is absolutely wild to me. Thanks for reading! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 59

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