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ladadiida · 7 months

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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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thelaisydazy · 2 months

Text

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out Pt. 2

Johnny drags you inside the station, ignoring the confused looks he gets from the other men inside. He walks you over to the oldest of them, a man with a beard sporting a hat, and introduces you.

“This is oor captain, Price,” Johnny says, his arm still over your shoulder. “Cap, bonnie ‘ere lost their keys doon th’ drain. Can we gi’ them a hand?”

“I’m sure Gary could get to them,” Price says, offering a warm smile and his hand to shake, which you do. “You rest here mux.” He turned to the couch where a man with dark, curly hair sat. “Kyle, keep our guest company, we’ll be back.” He pats Johnny on the shoulder and the two leave to find Gary and retrieve your keys.

Kyle stands from the couch and walks over. He’s handsome, pretty you think. He definitely knows it too as he catches you staring, giving you a smile. “Hungry?” he asks.

---

Simon emerged from the showers, wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his damp towel slung over his broad shoulders as his blond hair was still dripping wet. The station house was quiet. Johnny must still be out walking Riley.

A quiet laugh broke that silence though. One that made his stony heart skip a beat. Simon made his way towards the common area, finding the one thing he never expected. You.

Kyle was sitting with one arm on the couch behind you, the other on his leg. You hadn’t noticed Simon yet, too engrossed in Kyle’s story about the time Riley climbed into the open window of a cop car to get into a bag of treats the officer had hidden under his seat.

“So Riley was hanging halfway out this cop’s car, an’ Johnny’s trying to get him out before the cop gets back,” Kyle said. “Turns out, the cop had a bag of treats in the car. Found out when Simon called Riley over. Rascal had the bag hanging out his mouth.”

The sound of your laugh makes Simon’s heart race and he finds himself jealous of the way your fingers gently scratched behind Riley’s ear as the dog’s head lays in your lap.

Simon can’t help but stare. He’d always known how pretty you were, but seeing you here in the station.. He only wished he was the one you were sitting with. That he was the one making you laugh so easily.

“Bonnie! We got yer keys!” Johnny calls, coming up behind Simon.

Your head whips around, catching a glimpse of Simon as he turns on his heels and retreats deeper into the station.

---

In his room, Simon’s heart pounds in his chest. He runs a large hand through his blond hair, his mind racing. All he’d wanted these past few months was to know you better, though he’d never been able to bring himself to speak more than a few words to you. Never had he thought he’d see you in the firehouse, much less cozied up on their couch. What were you even doing here?

A knock on his door brought his answer. Simon quickly pulled on his privacy mask, some part of him hoping it was you. Instead he saw Johnny.

“Aye, Si, did ye see we git a guest?” Johnny asked with that cheeky grin of his. Ah. That was it. Johnny brought you here.

“I saw..” Simon said, keeping his voice measured despite his urge to to tear Johnny in half for getting up the nerve to talk to you before he could.

“Ye never told me tha’ wee thing wis so cuit,” Johnny pressed. “S’already git Kyle wrapped ‘round their wee finger.”

Simon’s dark eyes sharpened. Johnny always knew just how to get under his thick skin.

“Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye,” Johnny continued. “Looked a might fash when ye stormed off.”

“Didn’t ‘ave m’ mask,” Simon muttered. “Wasn’t expecting them..”

“Aye, ha t’ git Gary t’ rescue their keys,” Johnny explained. His blue eyes briefly looked Simon up and down. “Y’should say ‘ello. Am sure they’d lek t’ see ye.”

Johnny was dense but he wasn’t stupid. He knew Simon could get anyone he wanted, he had the looks to make just about anyone, including Johnny himself, melt. If only Simon had the confidence to actually talk to anyone.

When Simon didn’t budge, Johnny decided to push further. “Aye wis think’n, LT,” he started. “I might ask ‘em oot fer coffee.” Johnny shrugged as he watched Simon tense.

Simon shoved past Johnny, making his way to the common area again. Leaving Johnny grinning at his door.

---

“Coffee.”

Simon’s gruff voice startles you. You hadn’t seen him enter the room, much less hear him walk up behind where you were sitting on the couch.

You blink those pretty eyes up at him. “What?”

“With me.” He doesn’t seem to be asking by his tone, but his eyes are almost pleading.

“Uh.. sure,” you say, unable to keep the smile from your lips.

The tension in Simon’s shoulders melted away. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.

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ilycosy · 2 months

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❝ YOU FREE 2NIGHT ? ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x reader

summary — it's a cold february morning, nothing special to you, really. but there's that sickening air around camp that has everyone in a trance, you'll escape it this year again of course. or will you?

warnings : reader is a hater , luke is a helpless romantic loser , they're both awkward teenagers but it's so cute , percabeth !!!

aﾉn — a valentines day fic !! 🤍 i hope u guys enjoy <33 i rlly like writing luke as a loser but i think u guys alr know that sjshak

you woke to hushed giggles in the cabin, an aphrodite boy perched up on one of your half brothers. basically eating each other's faces before anyone wakes up to see them, you roll your eyes.

listen, you weren't entirely against romance. just all the bits where you have to share yourself with your 'special person', especially in public. pda was your own personal tartarus, you were sure of it.

which is why it was shocking to receive a stupid note during breakfast from luke asking if you're free tonight, misspelled might you add. and even though you found it stupid, you couldn't help but wonder why he would even bother with you.

you— the person who once told him that he had the face of a sloth, the person who shoved him into the lake just because you could, the person who told him to 'get over' hermes when he came to camp. really, you couldn't think of any reason he'd ever like you.

but with how he smiled eagerly when you opened the note, and how he waved and did a thumbs up when you read it. you ditched the unsure thoughts of him just lying to you. you weren't free anymore.

you circled the no answer box, slipping the note back to him when your cabin was called for the offerings. trying not to look at him when he got cheesy and had percy come over to tell you to meet luke at a spot.

"luke said he wants you to meet him at," percy looks down at his hand, like he's reading from a fake script. "the place you poured juice onto his head? he's speaking in riddles to me, man."

you almost smiled at percy's sarcastic tone, but instead, you rolled your eyes and took a bite of your food. "tell him ill be there at 7." you say, turning your full attention to your food after.

you think you hear percy say, 'aye aye captain.' but you can't really be sure. you're too busy wondering how you're going to keep your food down with how your stomachs churning just thinking about what will happen.

well, turns out— 7 will come a lot sooner when you're stressing about what will happen at that time, the movies lied to you!

you sit anxiously at a clearing in the forest, looking around as you remember how you had dumped apple juice onto lukes head when you both were 15. you claimed it was to cool him down, but really, it was because he had called you pretty.

twigs snap behind you, and when you snap your head around, you're greeted with cupcakes?

"hey," luke greets, calmly sitting next to you like this was a casual hangout. "you hungry?" he asks, but he's a little nervous. his voice strained and his face a little red as he holds out sloppy cupcakes, clearly done by him and younger campers.

the cupcakes are messy, but they smell delicious. you almost grab one before reading what is spelt out on them, 'kiss me?'

you can't help but laugh, giggling to yourself as you hover over the k cupcake. "man i knew it was silly," he groans, setting the platter in his lap as he looks away embarrassedly. "i knew you hated pda, so i did it away from others but i shouldn't have listened to annabeth with the cupcakes it's just she said percy did it and she loved it and–"

you pressed a finger to his lips, picking up the cupcake you wanted. taking a slow bite as you savor it, thinking about his rant while he stares at you with wide eyes. you ignore how you swear both your hearts are beating in sync.

"it's sweet," you say, not knowing if you're talking about the cupcake or his confession. "it's not silly." it comes out before you can even think about what you're saying, you're talking about the confession?

it shocks both of you clearly. "you're sure?" he asks hesitantly, drumming his fingers on the platter. "i had help from demeter kids with the cooking, so i hope it's good, but are you sure that it's not stupid you don't have to call it sweet i get—"

you press your lips to his hesitantly, unsure of what you're doing, but honestly, he needed to shut up. he sits stiffly with the cupcakes on him, his hands coming up to pull you closer. you both awkwardly avoid dropping any while you kiss, teeth clashing together a few times.

when you both pull away you can't help but laugh, his dazed and blushing face so close to yours that he can smell the sugar and dinner on your breath. he starts laughing too, leaning his forehead on yours.

"im not free tonight," you whisper, watching as he looks at you confusedly. the angle is a little silly to look at him from, but for some reason your heart beats harder in your ears. "i think im taken."

his confused face splits into a stupid grin, pressing another kiss against your mouth before he lifts up the question mark cupcake. "by me?" he asks, cheesily but you can't imagine it being any other way.

"yes," you roll your eyes but your voice is soft, and he thinks his heart will explode in his chest. "by you."

#cosywriting #castellanswrld #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan smut #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic

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eggroll-sama · 2 months

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When Your Bikini Top Goes Loose

The Spider Society is hosting a beach party and you were invited. It was supposed to be a nice sunny outing with your lovely boyfriend, until an accident occurs with your bikini top…BASICALLY the stereotypical anime beach swimsuit trope. How would the boys react?

Miles

Tries to block the view with his body because he doesn’t want anybody else to see his girlfriend in such a vulnerable state, but his skinny stature doesn’t help, especially if you’re on the thicker side.

“O-kay! Everybody turn around! Just a little outfit malfunction, nothing to see here!”

Probably draws more attention by opening his mouth, but he didn’t mean it. Very protective boyfriend. Webs a random beach towel from the ground (apologizes later to whoever it belonged to) and hands them to you. He will help you hold it up while you fix your outfit malfunction. Very awkward but respectful. He would try to act cool and indifferent, but his mind is running 100 miles an hour.

99% chance he’ll get jealous and put off if someone saw you. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell it’s bothering him. If you ask him about it to tease him, he’s going to deny it to his grave.

Hobie

The most chill when it happens. Doesn’t get possessive if someone saw your chest since he’s a believer in normalizing public nudity, but will shoot web on their face if they were ogling or making you uncomfortable. The man just quietly saunters over to not make a big scene and helps you out. Afterwards he’d joke that his hands will be more trustworthy for your chest.

To make sure that the bikini bra doesn’t go loose again, he makes it more secure for you with his spiderwebs. 100% full proof and the bikini won’t ever go loose again.

“Okay, give a little twirl for me now. Damn, absolutely stunnin’.”

Gives you a little slap on the butt and a kiss on the cheek. Doesn’t care if anyone else sees.

Pavitr

As the ever observant boy that he is, he notices it going loose even before you. Quickly used his webs so that it covers your chest on time.

“Ay, that was a close one! Good thing your amazing boyfriend was there to help you!”

Might get creative when he’s tired out from swimming and playing volleyball, and starts crocheting you a bikini outfit while you’re laying on him. According to him, he’s a “talented, amazing, super cool, handsome” boyfriend like that. He’ll use your favorite colors and even asks you what type of design you’d prefer.

Miguel

Doesn’t have the spidey-sense to notice your bikini top going loose before it’s too late. His eyes instantly scan the area, landing on a few spider people that fervently shake their head in denial of seeing anything or acting like they were distracted.

Holds you in his arms bridal style, ignores you telling him to put you down, and takes you to the beach bathroom where you can fix your top.

He acts standoffish when you come back, and he would give you a half-baked answer if you ask what’s wrong. You get your answer when he starts to act clingier and protective over you. You catch him glancing at your bikini top’s strings several times to make sure it doesn’t go loose again and when you suggest doing anything physical like swimming or volleyball, he gets skeptical.

“What’s wrong with reading with me under the parasol? …dios, I’m just too worn out to go back into the water…(sees you running back to the water)…ay coño (chases you).”

#miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara #Miguel O’Hara x reader #miles morales #miles morales headcanons #miles morales x reader #pavitr prabhakar #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown headcanons #pavitr headcanons #atsv x reader #atsv headcanons #atsv #itsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv miles

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plum-writes · 5 months

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❦🝮 ♡︎Submissive Miguel Ohara♡︎🝮❦

ఌ first of all, no matter how prideful or closed off this man may be, he wants to be taken care of

ఌ he wants to be held, pampered, and be able to let go of all the problems weighing on his shoulders

ఌ he just wants the bliss that comes with no thoughts in his head

ఌ he does so much, for you, for New York, for the Spidey Society, for all the universes he works so hard to protect, that it comes as no surprise that it takes a toll on him

ఌ basically he needs to be fucked so good that he can’t think anymore, just feel

ఌ feel you

ఌ and he’s a little scared at first at how badly he wants that

ఌ to the point where he’s having thoughts and fantasies that are so deprived and needy he has to make sure they don’t become more than that

ఌ how could he explain that he wants to be used and abused in any way possible by you so badly, he aches almost every night, fucking his cock into his hand imagining it’s you???

ఌ he couldn’t- could never- so he keeps it a secret. until he cant

ఌ it all started with a back massage

ఌ he came home from work pretty late, so tired that his mind was muddled mess and his body was just going through the motions of his usual routine

ఌ it was obvious with his sluggish movements, and low, delayed grunt when you softly greeted him with his usual kiss home

ఌ you knew he was too drained to do much right now, and that was where you took the initiative to take care of him

ఌ something that made it even harder for him to keep the little secret to himself

ఌ but you didn’t know that, and he was too tired to refute your help like so many times before

ఌ so when he finished eating dinner and you gently led him to the bedroom, giving him another kiss while gently telling him to hop in the shower he didn’t brush you off

ఌ he didn’t tell you not to worry about him like he usually would

ఌ he was all too happy to obey you

ఌ and when he finished he certainly didn’t complain when you led him to lay on his stomach on the bed, telling him that he was going to get a massage for being so good, and hardworking that day

ఌ for working so hard to help provide for your beautiful home, for New York, for the universe

“Oh, Miguel, you’re so good to everyone. Doing so much for everyone, you deserve a reward for doing so good- you deserve everything, amor.”

ఌ the way his belly lit up had him waking up like a bucket of ice cold water was thrown onto him

ఌ he knew what this would lead too, how him being too tired to control himself, would reveal the part of himself that yearned for you

ఌ he had no idea how you would react to that and he didn’t want to risk any negative reactions he might get from it

ఌ but your hands and words just felt so good

ఌ you had him talk about his day, his words interrupted with muffled grunts, and the deep breaths that left his mouth when you would rub a tender spot on his back, making him loosening up

ఌ he decides at that moment that this is all worth anything he might let slip that night if he could just revel in your tender hands for a few more moments

ఌ you and your magical touch

ఌ he groans softly at the way you rub his back with caring hands, your weight a comfort from where you’re sitting atop of his thighs

ఌ the kisses you plant at the top of his shoulder blades leaving his skin tingling and buzzing, while your hands gently knead his lower back, your little knuckles digging into his tight spots

ఌ it makes him want more

“Aye, bebita. Treating me so good.”

ఌ you smile at his words, leaning down and angling your head to kiss his bushy brow, laughing lightly when his hand reaches back and tugs at the shirt you’re wearing

ఌ you readily take it off for Miguel, just clad in your panties now

ఌ He moans even more at the feel of your peaked nipples brushing against his flushed skin when you lean down, your kisses traveling up to his neck and ears, getting any peek of his face that flits through where he’s burying his head in his forearms

ఌ he chuckles lowly, and hums appreciatively when you squish your body fully on top of him to wrap your arms around his larger frame in a hug

ఌ he can feel your chest squished to his back, a wonderful feeling, your lips setting a blazed trail all along his body

ఌ his muscles relaxed and taken care of

ఌ he feels absolutely consumed by you and he loves it

ఌ and it just seemed to get him in that headspace

ఌ he starts breathing heavy when he feels you grip him tight, his sweats tightening at his groin area when you suck a spot on his shoulder, your teeth slightly nibbling and grazing his skin

ఌ your hands soon start drifting all over his half naked body, weight becoming heavier on him when you press yourself further to his back

ఌ he feels your panty clad pussy press against the side of his thigh, and he huffs heavily at the slight wetness that slides your panties messily

“Take it off mami, want to feel you, please.”

ఌ his voice is a gravelly, raspy, and delicious whimper

ఌ it’s not like anything you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth from the time you guys have been together

ఌ youve heard deep grunts, and throaty groans, slightly high pitched huffs, and even some quiet whines hidden deep in his voice when you guys have sex

ఌ but a whimper as sweet and needy as this one? This is the first your ears are blessed with the sound

ఌ you pause minutely, and even though it’s only for half a second, he notices right away

ఌ you feel him go stiff once again, and you just know his eyes are wide and brows furrowed, silently panicking to himself

ఌ he’s silently beating itself up at letting go of himself, of letting you see a side of him that would surely make you want to leave. Who wants to be with a man who acts like this from a few fucking sentimental words and little touches?? His mind screams at himself

ఌ he’s oblivious to the smile that stretches your lips, your hand continuing its journey to slip under the waistband of his sweats to grip is pretty, hard cock

ఌ you pick up right where you guys left off as if nothing is amiss, but your voice is notably more firm and throaty; it’s obvious how fucking excited you are about the new dynamic presented between you two

“What is it, Miguel? You wanna feel me that bad?”

ఌ you grind down on him, already soaking through your panties and you know he can feel the wetness on his skin already

ఌ he let out a choked off whine his arms tensing, and he stuffs his head further into them

ఌ he’s trying to be quiet. You don’t want him to

ఌ so you grind harder, and one hand leaves his shoulder to his hair and you slide your fingers through the soft tufts of hair. you grip gently and firmly tug his head up to look at you

ఌ his eyes are lidded, glassy and preening at you, cheeks red and lips parted just slightly

ఌ god you want to devour him

“Let me take care of you.”

ఌ that is the first time Miguel lets himself be fully vulnerable with you

ఌ you ride him deep in to the sheets that night, pulling more moans and whines from him that do nothing more than make you drip desperately for him

ఌ you feel drunk on him, almost feral at the way he’s so easily reduced to a whining, needy mess under you

ఌ you don’t think either of you have even came that hard together

ఌ this sparks an onslaught of many nights like this to come

ఌ you’ll know when Miguel gets in one of these moods, whether he vocalizes it or not

ఌ he’ll be surprised at how well you read him, momentarily quiet when you come up behind him and start kissing his back, hands drifting to the band of his pants with a whisper of

“Let me take care of you, bebito.”

ఌ oh man does he fold whenever he hears those words

ఌ he’ll gladly let you take control, content to just lay down and let your lips travel wherever they want to go

ఌ this often leads to times where he gets a little demanding

ఌ he begs and whimpers, whines and complains, will grasp and grab you, becoming so fucking needy that he can’t help himself

ఌ so he becomes a bit of a brat

ఌ he’ll be all whining and pouting, looking at you with such a desperate glare that shows how determined he is to get what he needs anyway he can

ఌ the first time he made you snap, he cried

ఌ and crying during sex was a euphoria he didn’t know he ever needed

ఌ being suffocated by your thighs for hours because he was too impatient to wait for you when you came home, bugging you during work

ఌ not letting him touch himself as punishment when you walked through the door, angry and pent up from the many voice mails and texts he left you- both on your home and work phone

ఌ degrading him with words that made his chest flush, and cheeks red like a tomato

“So fucking needy, Miguel. I’ve spoiled you too much haven’t I? You’ve become such a needy little brat, demanding everything from me, so. fucking. greedy- oh- right there!”

ఌ him loving the dirty words spewing out of your mouth, and loving your harsh touches even more

ఌ you guys aren’t strangers to each of you having scratches and bruises from sex, but him feeling absolutely unable to function after you’ve fucked his brains out??

ఌ he loves it so much it makes him cry

ఌ he loves the bite marks, hickeys, scratches, bruises, hand prints, and any little thing you leave on him, such actions never failing to make him moan

ఌ you guys have definitely done pegging

ఌ and he fucking loved it

ఌ the prep before consisting of you eating his ass like it was your last meal and then fingering it like it was your pussy was something he didn’t think he could ever enjoy so much

ఌ and then when you’re fucking him, the rubber, wet dildo hitting his prostate with every slap of your hips, he didn’t even know he could ever feel that good

ఌ he also loved the intimacy of it all

ఌ you interlocking your guys fingers when you devoured his ass made his breath hitch

ఌ you licking and sucking his balls while fingering him and looking up at him with such love where he was laying on his back on the comfortable bed made his cock squirt

ఌ you stroking his back and thighs when you probed the tip of the rubber dildo into him made his heart and stomach flutter

ఌ he loves you and just this fact makes sex with you so much better

ఌ he’ll never get over the way you make his breath hitch with just a look instead of a touch

ఌ or how you’ll be so caring and loving even when you’re riding him so roughly he’s sure he won’t be able to feel his dick tomorrow morning

“A-aye, fuck… oh carino, asi~”

ఌ his moans turn so high pitched, it’s like the most beautiful melody written just for you

ఌ he gets a little embarrassed sometimes when you see him like this- just the fact that you have the power to reduce him like this makes him a bit flustered and overwhelmed

ఌ but then you’ll assure him that you love it when he’s like this, kissing and hugging him around his broad shoulders when he refuses to meet your eyes after he’s recovered from properly being fucked out

ఌ and then he’ll realize he loves it too

#miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel smut #sub miguel o'hara

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konigsblog · 7 months

Note

Heya! Sorry if it's stupid ask, but I have read your post a while ago that you're Scottish (If I'm wrong then I'm sorry and I would feel embarrassed.🙃) And I want to write Sergeant Johnny Mactavish and Captain John Mactavish x reader. And since they are also Scottish I want to write/them say some Scottish lines, or just words. So I was hoping what usually Scottish people will say, I don't want to mess up. I only know aye, shite and lass but that's much about it.

Sorry if my English is bad.

And I wish you an great day/night/evening!😊

SCOTTISH PHRASES AND WORDS TO USE WHILE WRITING FOR SOAP MACTAVISH.

— yes! i am scottish, so here's some phrases and words i hear, and say, in scotland and what other scottish people usually say. :)

bonnie = that means calling someone pretty, like bonnie lass means pretty girl, since lass means girl. i'd say this is usually aimed towards girls, like a man would call a woman a bonnie.

lad means boy, like a friend usually. lads is plural ofc, and you could use it to say soap and the lads, or his pals. — “me and the lads.” (lads isn't scottish, it's british - which obviously being scottish means your british, but anywhere in great britain you'd hear this. as well as the one below.)

pals means friends, friend is a pal. — “thought he was yer pal.” = “thought he was your friend.”

dinnae = don't, it's how we say it in our accent. “dinnae do that.”

dae = means do, again, how we say it in our accent. “dae that for me.”

“haud yer wheesht” means shut up, like be quiet.

blether means talk, you might call someone a blether if they gossip or they're a chatterbox. — “stop blethering.”

crabbit means to be annoyed or grumpy. — “why ye crabbit?”

aye means yes. — “aye, dae that.”

ken means know. “a ken that.” not the barbie doll, it means know :) — “a ken that.” means “i know that.”

eejit means idiot. — “yer' an eejit.”

“ah umnae” means im not. ‘ah’ means im, or i, ‘umnae’ means not. it's hard to explain, just our accents though.

‘peely wally’ means pale. (heard this too many times towards myself, im pale as paper..) — “yer' lookin' a bit peely wally.” honestly, i don't think you'd need to say this that often in fanfics with soap, but maybe if someone is ill, you'd say that.

“gonnae no do that” means don't do that. “gonnae” means gonna, so like “gonna not do that” you'd say to someone if they did something you didn't want them to do.

“yer bum's oot the windae!” you're lying, being dramatic, or over exaggerating something.

“dafty” means stupid. — “yer' a dafty.”

VIDEOS TO WATCH FOR HELP AND UNDERSTANDING OF THE ACCENT:

it shows the accent differences between a scottish person, an english person, and an irish person.

https://youtu.be/Z-WliS0HHF8?feature=shared

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 15 ] || [ Chapter 17 ]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.3K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: I'm all for vigilante justice.

Chapter 16: Teeth

“Address.” Simon demanded as he crouched in front of you, a hand cusping your cheek.

“Simon… please…” You tried arguing.

“Address.” He insisted a bit more forcefully.

It was bizarre to see him in full gear. Black on black on black… And it was even more bizarre to be looking into the eyes of the nice, honest, respectful man you’ve been seeing but having his features hidden behind a skull. An actual, real life skull sewn to a black balaclava…

You can see the fire burning in his eyes through the skull’s eye sockets… You were severely wrong when you made fun of him for wearing a skull mask in public. It’s not silly… it’s downright terrifying…

It strikes you then that the person looking at you right now is the ‘Ghost’ and not Simon.

“He’s not going to be home… He helps Fridays and Saturdays at a friend’s pub…” You explained. “It’s called The Railway.” You said sheepishly.

Ghost caressed your face one last time with his hand, the rough material of his glove scratching your cheek lightly, the same way Simon.

Then, he pushed up on his knees to stand back up and turned. “Kyle, you stay with them.”

“Roger that.” Gaz replied as he took a seat next to you on the couch.

“Johnny, on me.” Ghost said as he beelined for the front door of your apartment.

“Aye.” Soap bounced up from his eat on one of your kitchen chairs and gave you a friendly tap on the shoulder before he took off after Ghost.

You watched them go until the door closed and then turned to look at Gaz. “They’re not going to kill Ethan, right…?”

“No. But he might need dentures once they’re done.”

You’re awoken by Kyle stirring next to you. You’ve fallen asleep on the couch, basically draped across Kyle’s body, his arms wrapped around your body protectively, as you laid between his legs, your head against his shoulder.

“Sorry, lovie.” He told you as he ran his lips over your forehead in a wisp of a kiss.

“Wha-” You murmured as you rubbed your eyes before pulling back to look at him.

“Johnny just texted… They’re downstairs, lovie.” He told you, causing you to slowly slip out of his embrace.

You pulled back to the other side of the couch and yawned, feeling the blanket he draped over you both falling off you and exposing your back to the cold air.

Rising up to your feet, you approached the intercom and buzzed them in. Kyle followed after you, bringing the blanket along, making you giggle a bit when you felt him wrap the blanket and his arms, around you.

Johnny and Simon came jogging up the stairs as you and Kyle waited by the open door. “Hi…” You greeted them both.

“Hi, sweetheart. Wait a moment, we’re dirty.” Simon told you, his voice a lot more gentle than it had been as him and Johnny came up the steps.

They stepped inside and before either of them touched you, they took off their gear at the door and dumped them in a pile on the floor next to Kyle’s. Gaz and Ghost had rushed over upon getting Soap’s call… and good thing they came all kitted up. They needed it, as it turns out.

Only after removing their gear and washing their hands in the bathroom, did they come over to you and Kyle who were sitting on the couch again.

Simon came to sit across from you, atop the coffee table and gently held your hands. “How are you feeling?” He asked you, his voice kind, caring, soft… His brown eyes looking at you like he expected you to flinch away from him at any moment.

There was a deep-seated fear of being Simon (and only Simon) in him. It made him need some type of cover on his face… One he could justify to you under the guise of his scarring and deformities…

But there was also a need in him to keep ‘the ghost’ as far from you as possible… Having come into your flat as Ghost before departing to go find Ethan had ruined those chances… So he knew that he had no choice but to fully shed Ghost and his mask at the door to your flat and bear himself to be just Simon to you. And never risk bringing him in again. And so he did.

For the first time, Simon had no face covering at all, having tugged off his skull mask and balaclava and chucked it at the pile of gear by the front door.

And you were still looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing you’ve seen, your eyes softened and fond as you regarded him.

“I’m okay.” You assured him after a beat of silence.

Simon nodded and his left hand cupped your face again, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip.

“Oh, by the way.” Simon remarked and dug around in his pockets before handing you a keyring with a couple of keys and a singular metal heart keychain attached to it. “Believe this is yours.”

Taking the keys in your hand, you huffed, recognizing the keys to your flat and the keychain engraved with your anniversary date that you had gotten for you and Ethan once you had moved in together a year and a half into your relationship.

“I can’t believe he still had a copy… I could’ve sworn he gave it back…” You said as you looked down at the stupid heart. You had gotten rid of yours once the relationship ended, throwing it into the bin and having long since taken out the bag with it to the rubbish collection.

“He did.” Johnny said. “He fessed up he got a copy made.” He added bluntly.

“Piece of shit.” You insullted him and immediately set the key down next to Simon on the coffee table before shaking your head and leaning back on the couch, arms crossed.

“Now I wish I went with.” Kyle remarked next to you.

“Kyle!” You scolded him and he shrugged.

“What? He deserved what he got…” He said, causing the other men to nod in agreement.

“But I doubt he’s going to bother you again.” Simon added.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” You quipped, which caused him to chuckle, his lips morphing into a smirk.

His smile… God, is he beautiful.

“No… Just broke a couple bones.” He assured you, making you sigh and nod in relief.

“Thanks, by the way...” You told them. “I don’t- I don’t think I should be thanking you for beating up my ex but…” You trailed off.

The three men around you chuckled at your words and shook their heads.

“Aye… Don’t worry. We needed to get some boxing in either way… only turned him into a bit of a punching bag.” Johnny quipped from the side, making you look toward him for the first time since they came in.

“Thank you.” You told Johnny directly. “You didn’t need to help… in any of this really.” You explained.

Johnny clicked his tongue and gestured vaguely with his hand, as if deflecting your gratefulness.

“No need.” He said with a light smile and crouched by your side, rubbing your forearm with his hand. “I wouldn’t have let you deal with that mess at the shop by yourself… Especially not when you’re with my mates.” He added.

Smiling softly you nodded at him agreement. Johnny seemed like a good sort. No wonder Kyle had so many stories of times spent with him while on leave… He had regaled you with plenty of them while Simon and him were gone taking care of Ethan…

And as you sat surrounded by the three of them, you felt quite alright.

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

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader

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sentientcave · 9 days

Text

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#cod mw fanfiction #cave writing #John Price x Reader #x reader #dark fic #Price please keep your dogs on leashes they are terrorizing women #The boys missed the real retirement party because they got emergency deployed and they've been trying to reschedule all year long #Good thing they've got such a good gift to make up for it #The homies in discord agree: These guys are unsettling

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moineauz · 27 days

Text

જ⁀ 𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒 , various !

synopsis: when you bring your friend to ikea to help you pick furniture for your new apartment. Pinning ensues amongst other flustering events.

including: zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya, thoma,

side comments: pure fluff! also, please buy your furniture second-hand and support small businesses! avoid fast furniture when you can (ikea) and make mindful purchases. let's briefly imagine a perfect world where ikea is ethical and sustainable.

extra: mentions and implications of marriage, gn reader, favourites: zhongli & kaeya word count: 1,784

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

Being the friend he is, Zhongli would happily accompany you.

He is the type to have his hands behind his back as he follows you around. Lingering close yet respectfully enough.

If you ask him for consolation, he will be honest in the most tender way possible:

"Ah... perhaps this colour will be more suitable considering the lighting."

"You did need a new couch, right? I believe you will like this one."

You blink and then your cart is full.

Zhongli's advice is acutely precise, however, expect to exceed your original budget by another ghastly $500.

Not that he suggests buying unnecessary items, rather, he suggests quality, material and construction.

Begins speaking a tad excessively about colour coordination and lightning.

He will help you lift any furniture parts if need be!

Gradually, the trip would become a joint effort by the two of you. As if you've been shopping and living together for years.

"Look at the dining table ( Name )," Zhongli commented. The lighting of the room glittered above, illuminating your face slightly as your hands glide over the wood varnish. "It's wonderful, isn't it? You'd be able to hold all the dinner parties you wanted."

You smile gingerly, and soon you are standing next to him by the kitchen sink. "Definitely, Childe would no longer have to sit on the floor."

Zhongli chuckles and you share a teasing grin. "At least we picked out a table already- much cheaper."

Zhongli raises an eyebrow, "Oh? Perhaps we can consider this one instead?"

"Personally, I think you should agree with him," spoke an employee- a soft-spoken elderly woman- "I remember when I first bought my fiancee's dining table- fun times!"

"Oh ma'am we're not-"

"Yes, my fiancee and I do agree," Zhongli gazes towards you're slightly flushed figure and smiles gently, "Yes dear?"

You blink for a few moments; gaining your footing before replying smoothly, "Why of course, how could I not love?"

You don't notice it, however, Zhongli shares a faint blush as he later pretends to cough in his fist.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

Childe has zero taste in furniture.

His mom would choose the furniture while he used his card.

Browsing through the showrooms and picking furniture is not how he would choose to spend his afternoon, however, he'll try for you!

In this case- it's the thought that counts.

If you need help reaching or lifting anything he'll do it readily.

Don't have a cart or bag? (There were lots) Childe will hold it all for you!

It becomes an inner competition to some extent to cover up for his obvious lack of skill in furniture and home design in hopes of impressing you.

“Excuse me young man, can you please reach the duvet covers for me up top?” asks a elderly man, an embarrassed smile gently plastered on his lips.

Childe turns his head towards the man and flashes a hearty grin, “Of course.”

With ease, Childe grabs the duvet set and hands it to him, “Ah, thank you,” the man pauses before speaking, his eyes in thought, “might I ask something?”

Childe blinks and replies, subtle curiosity beneath his lighthearted tone, “Go on.”

“Have you asked your partner out yet?

Childe fumbles a bit and the elderly man heaves a near boisterous laugh. "I'm taking that as a no, ay? Ah, young couples! I might not have the sharpest eyes anymore, but you've been lookin' at them since the kitchen showroom!"

Before Childe could express a response, the man pats his back and smiles. "Best of luck! I'm sure they'll say yes."

The man then ambles away and from a distance, Childe can see his small figure fade into the throng.

"Hey Childe! Are you alright?"

"Oh... um yeah!" prompted Childe, "Is there anything else you need?"

You shake your head, your fingers scrolling through the list you made, "That should be it. Are you sure you're okay? If you'd like I could hold the vase?"

Childe smiles while his bright blue eyes pool into yours, "No I'm good, let's head to check out."

The two of you saunter to the check-out counter side by side; bantering with each other. Childe's gaze never leaving yours.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐑

Diluc is not well-versed in design and colour. However, he has a keen eye for both style, price and functionality, unbeknownst to him.

You were hesitant to ask him if he could accompany you as it is without a doubt that Diluc Ragnvindr is a busy man.

Diluc himself shared hesitancy for opposing reasons.

Diluc has lived with himself and has found his dwelling to be dull in comparison to the liveliness and hospitality your former apartment held. Thus, Diluc wondered if he could be of any help.

Nevertheless, you reassured him that you wanted company regardless of his skills.

Contrary to his words, Diluc was quite valuable, especially when navigating the place.

"I found the blanket you were interested in earlier, do you still want it?"

"The colour is rather flattering... but it is your choice! Um... please don't mind me."

"Do you need help?"

Diluc doubted his opinion, however, you found yourself agreeing with him several times.

You and Diluc were currently sitting by the opposite edge of a bed, your hands inches apart.

"A comfortable bed isn't it?" you bounce on the bed a little, a smile reaching your lips, "And the mattress is only $200, a king too! I can't believe you found this deal-"

Diluc does not hear your voice, it faded just as the lights mellowed and the sensations of the blanket against his calloused hands grew fuzzy.

"... Hey Diluc?"

"Ah, yes," Diluc coughs before asking, "I'm sorry what were you saying?

You smile, "It's all good! I was just explaining how I wouldn't need such a large bed for myself."

Diluc conveys a slightly puzzled expression, "How so? If you're worried about how to carry it into the apartment then you do know that I'll assist you-"

You shake your head fervently before replying, "Well thank you Diluc! But really you don't have to-"

"Oh no, I insist."

You smile winsomely before carefully replying, "It's just... me in the apartment. I'd understand if I was living with someone- but it's not worth it in my opinion."

Diluc pauses, contemplating before replying steadily, "I believe you deserve the mattress..." There is a tentative gap between his words before he follows up, "Perhaps I... ah never mind, let's get going. You wanted to eat at Chef Xianling's restaurant for dinner right? My treat."

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇

So you invited Kaeya?

Expect relentless teasing and a carefree-complacent attitude.

However, as much as Kaeya is there for fun, he will readily assist you- not without a tease, however.

"Oh ho? Need my help?"

In regards to style and class... Kaeya can pull himself together.

However, similar to Diluc, there is a dullness to his home.

In fact, Kaeya rarely spends time in his own home: he bounces from place to place. Never lingering longer than is needed or comfortable. It is like an ever-present itch.

Yet, your home has become Kaeya's home too. Unbeknownst to you however.

It is natural for both of you.

Your home has become the longest place he has spent in. He has his space in your home, he even has a toothbrush holder and resident blanket; removing Kaeya from your home would cause an ineffable void.

Regardless of the previous facts, you genuinely invited Kaeya to come for help and company.

Kaeya makes the process entertaining! Instead of contemplating the price tags incessantly, Kaeya will smoothly subdue your worries by toying with the utensils and playing hide-and-seek in the mirror section all while slipping the item you wanted in the bag.

The two of you let loose; unwinding like children who innocently play in the kid's bedroom showhome despite being strangers to each other.

"Kaeya... do we really need this mirror?" you question dubiously.

Kaeya shares a winsome grin. "Why of course," he then gingerly places his hands on your shoulders and leans in slightly, "It holds a rather charming reflection, does it not?"

You gaze at him and sigh, "Charming? You always find ways to flatter yourself."

Kaeya merely smiles. The two of you peer into the mirror: the reflection of two souls gazing back all while Kaeya surmises.

It wasn't himself that he was referring to.

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀

You're in for a treat!

You will (quite literally) get ice cream afterwards.

Thoma possesses all the skills in the "art of making a home."

Need deals or a lower price? Thoma already has a list. What about colour and style? He has a magazine and Pinterest board ready. What about functionality and material? Don't fret! He knows all the washing labels and what goes best with your lifestyle.

Tell him the night before and he is packed and loaded.

Thoma is absolutely thrilled that you invited him.

Shopping for any household items is delightful for Thoma, even more so when the two of you are browsing through all the showrooms and inspecting each countertop.

His favourite section is the kitchen.

If you have a specific budget in mind, Thoma will ensure that not a dollar goes beyond it and he will keep you accountable as well!

However, staying within the budget while scouring the store takes a significant amount of time.

Hence, instead of another $100 added to the receipt, expect another three hours.

The two of you will heave a big sigh when you finally sit down in the car.

Nevertheless, it is all lighthearted and relaxing as the two of you reenacting imagining a space together.

"We'd set the tables over there-" remarked Thoma as he pointed his finger towards the dining table, "And we can house our pans here- it would be so since to have them hanging instead of in the cabinet."

"Browsing through the kitchens is always fun," added a mother, her arms cradling her baby, "Are the two of you living together?"

You chuckle and Thoma's cheeks grow rosy. You then reply amused, "Oh no, he's a friend of mine who I asked to come along."

The mother then shares an embarrassed smile, "Oh I'm so sorry! That was so wrong of me... if the two of you are looking for a hanging pan rack then I remember seeing an installation piece down in the marketplace."

"Thank you," replied Thoma, a smile pressed on his lips, "We'll be sure to check it out!"

As the mother saunters ambles away, Thoma mutters under his breath, "Maybe we should live together..."

"What was that?"

"Oh ah! Nothing," Thoma scratches the back of his neck before responding brightly, "Do you want me to write the rack on the list now?"

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victoria-grimesss · 8 months

Text

Call the Doctor, I'm in Love

masterlist

->Paring: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Medic!Fem!Reader

->Words: 2.9k

->Warning: fluff & angst, mentions of injury/wounds

->Summary: Soap has a big ol crush on you, he’s not sneaky or quiet about it. Here are the many times he’s fantasized about you and the one time you answered his dreams.

->A/N: a little something because I love Foap!

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish is a pretty guy, a hunk if you will and he knows it. He has no troubles with the ladies and is highly experienced but he always feels like he’s lacking something, someone. Until you came along, pretty new medic. You’re his favorite. He always goes to you for a patch up even waiting for medical help until you come back from break. Johnny is a saint, he is a patient and giving man.

But he wants you, desperately. He’s got a big fat crush and he’s not quiet about it. The 141 is exhausted hearing about what you did today and that Soap thinks you looked dreamy today, stitching up his arm. He saw you look at him a little extra that means you want to be with him right? They can’t wait until you either reject the poor fool or take him on a bloody date. Here are the times poor Mactavish has swooned over you:

The 1st Time: Your Introduction

Soap has found himself head over heels for you. He first saw you in the medical tent after him and an enemy went headfirst over a steep rockwall, he was fine of course, seems like that guy can bounce back from anything, you had nursed him back to health and he was done for. Your caring words and gentle hands were all he wanted now. And imagine his surprise and excitement when you became the team's new task-force medic.

“Alright team I hope you read over the file, we got a new member to our team. She's going to be our medic but don’t worry she can hold our own on the field. She’s reliable and damn good at her job. We’ve had too many close calls lately and I don’t want anyone dying of something that could have been prevented.”

Price ends his introduction and you greet your way around the room, everyone is nice enough for tuff military men. You find yourself sitting next to John, or Soap, or sometimes Johnny depending on who you ask. He’s a good looking guy, as are the rest in the room but you have a job to do so you don’t plan on messing up your place on the team by intermingling with one of them.

“Aye lass, do you carry one of those stethoscope things around with ya?”

He’s leaning on one arm, checking out the equipment you had brought with you.

“I usually keep it in the office, why is something wrong?”

You’re looking him over for anything obvious but nothing sounds any alarm.

“Ah no, it’s just my heart… it’s acting funny, beats a little faster when you come around.”

He’s smiling and you laugh not expecting a bad pick-up line but seems like he’s that kind of guy.

“I see. Well might want to try working on your cardio then that’ll improve that heart rate of yours.”

He pauses, thinking of what to say next to lure you in.

“You like bars doctor?”

“Not particularly..”

“Would ya mind joining me, I hate drinking alone.”

You smile, amused.

“Why not one of the other boys, someone you’re more familiar with.”

You’re looking into your bag and he drops his head lower so you’ll look him in the eyes.

“I’d like to be more familiar with you bonnie.”

You stop and put your hands on your hips pretending to think.

“Well I’m not so interesting, just a doctor after all. I’m sure Gaz would love to join you, you two seem the best of friends.”

He seems a little discouraged when you don’t play into his game but he looks at the small smile that plays on your lips and knows he’s just gotta keep trying. You won’t shake him off that easily.

—

The 2nd Time: The Flu Incident

Flu season. Your favorite time of the year, your inner monologue drips with sarcasm as you scrub your hands raw for the sixth time today. It’s late afternoon and the sun dips over the horizon as the rooms are casted with a honey soaked orange glow. The murmurs from the outside hallway peak your interest and you dry your hands and exit to the hall.

“I told you MacTavish I can help you just as easily as any other nurse or doctor, just come into my office and we’ll get you fixed up.”

An older more seasoned nurse has her hands on her hips, gaze pointed at Soap with a motherly disapproved look at her face. You step out of the room tossing the paper towel into the bin.

“Troubled patient?”

Soap lifts his head at your voice and he smiles, voice nasally and strained.

“Ah there ya are bonnie, been waiting for you. Think you can fix me?”

“You’d be in better hands with her you know? Unlike me she knows what she’s doing.”

Your tone is playful and Johnny stands weakly, hand on the wall.

“Yea but you’re my favorite, can’t feel better unless it’s you.”

The other nurse is called away shooting you a good luck look with her eyes, no doubt happy to not have to deal with the sickly man.

“Alright Johnny whatever you say. Let’s get you to a bed.”

“You’re a real saint hen.”

You place a steady hand on his back leading him to the bed in your office, away from the overflow so he can hopefully get some rest.

“Alright Johnny go ahead and lay down I’ll get your temp and let’s see if we can break that fever alright?”

He groans as he lays down obviously dealing with joint pain from the flu, it’s a nasty one that’s hit the base this time.

You run a washcloth under cool water, grab your thermometer, and sit next to him making sure he’s comfortable. You take his temp and frown,

“Give it to me straight doctor, am I going to make it?”

He grips your hand dramatically and you laugh while patting his hand.

“I think you’ll just scrape by, it’ll be close though.”

“Oh thank heavens. Guess you’ll just have to take extra close care of me right?”

He’s giving you those stupid puppy dog eyes again as you place the washcloth on his forehead and place the back of your hand on his cheek to feel the temp there as well.

“I guess since I’m part of your team now I’ll have to make sure you live, so yes. I will take extra good care of you.”

You smile at him softly, you don’t like seeing anyone sick but sick Soap reminds you of a kicked puppy.

You miss the way his eyes shine up at you as you chart his info. How the thoughts in his head are those of you and him on dates, what ring he will propose to you with, where you’ll honeymoon and various other daydreams he has swirling around. He would do anything for you to be his, he would capture the stars for you.

You get up from your chair to put his info into the computer and he looks at the sad flowers on the side table, shriveled and needing to be tossed.

“These flowers aren't lookin so good.”

You glance over and frown.

“Oh yeah, it’s been so busy lately I haven't had a chance to replace them yet.”

He hums and you walk back over to him and give him some painkillers and electrolyte drink mix.

“Take these and get some rest please, it’ll do you good.”

He sits up, eyes on you as he takes the pills, handing you the little cup back.

“I’ll get you some new flowers, take you out too.”

You’re facing away from him, a smile gracing your features.

“Johnny, I-”

“You don’t have to say yes now lass, just please, for the sake of my well-being think on it.”

You move over to him and dab the cloth onto his cheeks and cool down his pulse points, heart growing slightly as you reply.

“Sure Johnny, I’ll think about it. Now sleep, doctor's orders.”

He sleeps quietly next to you as you finish your charting. The sight of him so calm warms your heart and it scares you a little bit, you wouldn't want to throw off the balance of the team or make any weird power dynamics by falling for him but he makes it harder and harder.

The next week fresh flowers are left on the side table.

—

The 3rd Time: Award Ceremony Ball

Dressed to the nines each of you are. A very successful mission rewarded the whole team with a variety of medals and everyone was looking very nice all cleaned up.

Your dress was a floor gown with a slip up the leg and your back was exposed, the dress felt so silky and it was nice to not be covered in blood for once. Although you did manage to spill some kind of fancy jam on it and you were frantically dabbing at it with water when you were interrupted with Soap meeting up with you.

“Well don’t you look nice.”

He’s lively tonight, eyes bright with optimism after the job and sporting brand new chest candy to show off.

Your eyes drift up from the new stain on your dress to him and he, well he looks damn good. A new pink scar graces his jawline but it looks good on him, he can wear scars well.

“Thank you, you clean up well yourself too.”

“Ah bonnie don’t make me blush now.”

The rest of the team is chatting at a nearby table, Price is nursing a short glass of something dark, Gaz is going to town on the amazing food, and Ghost is engaged in conversation with the two of them.

“You wanna head back to the table?”

You offer, he shakes his head and offers his hand.

“I ask the fine lady to a dance.”

You blush, never asked to dance before, the ballroom floor filled with experts, couples swirling to the melody in the air.

You stew on it for a moment, and put your hand in his.

“Ok but if I fall you fall with me okay?”

“Always.”

Your hands are intertwined, one of his is on your waist and yours is on his shoulder. You both try to copy what the others do and the messy dance combined with the flutes of champagne you both consumed makes for quite the site. The mess of bumping feet and unsteady movements.

“For a sergeant you’re rather uncoordinated MacTavish.” Your laugh is light.

“I didn’t go to fuckin dance school, certainly didn’t learn this in the marines that’s for sure. What, did they teach this in medical school?”

“Does it look like they did? I can stitch up a bullet wound but lord help me I can't dance for shit.”

You bump into him again and his grip tightens slightly.

“I got ya bonnie.”

He could be living in a dream right now, you in such a pretty dress adorned in your well deserved medals, him with his. You’re gripping his shoulder and he’s got you in his arms, he can smell your perfume and see the small hairs out of place as the two of you spin but he loves it all the same. He wants it all the same.

“Johnny. Can you hear me?”

He blinks harshly, really sinking back in. You’re not his right now, he can’t take you back to his place after this and kiss each part of you, unzip the dress and let his fingers graze over the skin that's revealed to him. Watch how you move under the moonlight as he touches you just as he imagined. Not yet.

“Yea?”

“I said I think Gaz just devoured his fourth bowl of that dip I wanted to try.”

“Must be good then, should we head over before he finishes it all?”

You laugh and agree.

“Thank you for the dance MacTavish, you made me feel less silly for not knowing what I’m doing.”

His eyes sparkle at your admiration.

“I’m always happy to help.”

—

The 4th Time: Yes

This mission could not have been more fucked up. Shrapnel flies and bullets whiz by. The air is cold but your body is so hot, on fire from the adrenaline.

The coms are staticy and choppy but you can make out the team.

An undercover mission with Soap had you outside a pretty nice villa at dusk. It was meant to pose as a couple on a retreat to gain intel from an organization nearby but all hell had broken loose. You're cornered and Soap had been down to three bullets and you at two until you were able to take down someone else and gain the upper hand.

Communication with the team was hard, they had sent for backup now you just had to wait.

And Soap is shot.

He has taken a bullet for you and you’re frantic.

“Fuck Johnny, shit.”

He grimaces as you rip your bag off of your back to grab for first aid. It’s not enough though, you had to pack light and it’s not enough.

“Stupid ass job, told them to find a way to get more equipment.”

You’re more muttering to yourself, ripping things out of the small bag you were allotted to patch him up.

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.”

Johnny laughs and it sends him into a coughing fit, the bullet is in his side. You pray it hasn't done permanent damage but the gravel in his cough scares the hell out of you.

“Hold on Johnny, I’m gonna get you fixed up alright, just stay still.”

A bullet nearly misses your head and he shoots back hitting the guy before clutching his side again.

“You think that’s all of them?”

“Fucking hope so, I need- I have to clean it.”

He’s strong, so strong and sweet and kind and nice and charming and you can’t lose him.

Not when you know you want him now. That you need him now.

“Gonna lift your shirt ok? Just watch your breathing.”

“Aye, not even going to take me to dinner first.”

Your eyes are blurry as tears slip down, first one the two.

He wipes them away, his blood smearing onto your face and you choke back a sob.

“C’mon bonnie, don't cry. I hate seeing you cry.”

His voice grows weaker the more he speaks and you beg him to stop, but he rambles.

He talks about how each morning he wakes up to see if you’re up yet. He waits for you at the gym, always goes to you when he feels unwell, gushes to the rest of the team about you when you’re not around.

He flirts openly with you and what a fool you’ve been to not reciprocate fully, to reel into him.

The needle breaks his skin and his eyes grow heavy, the blood is still flowing freely and you almost feel it rushing out of you as well.

“I’m so sorry Johnny.”

You stitch and wipe and repeat. It’s a gaping wound and it makes you sick seeing it on him.

You’re so focused on stitching him you don’t notice when his eyes close. His breathing is shallower now.��

Your eyes race around his face, head now slumped to the side.

You wipe the wound, it’s not good but it should be ok. Heavy on should.

Your hand, coated in blood cups his cheek, shaking.

“Johnny?”

You move his head, it's heavy in your hands and your breathing hurts now.

You get closer, enough to press his forehead to yours and you inhale his smell.

You hold cloth to his wound to try to stop the bleeding and you whisper promises to him if he will just pull through.

Your lips are so close to his that when your tears roll down your face they roll off your nose onto his lips.

The hand that cups his cheek feels his pulse on his neck and it’s quiet and slow. It’s so silent here now.

“I’m so sorry Johnny. I love you. Fuck I love you so much I just didn’t want to mess anything up. Please don’t leave yet.

You lips touch his softly, like if you pressed any harder he would shatter.

“Could have- could have told me all that before I was dying yea?”

He laughs weakly, his smile cracking the corner of his lips. You cup his face fully now, careful to remove your hand from the wound but you applied enough pressure by now the blood has coagulated some.

“You mean all that?” His eyes are heavy but he still looks at you with that same shining he always did.

“Yes, god yes. I just didn't want to mess up the team dynamic but I don’t care anymore, you just have to pull through alright then let's go out.”

“I like the sound of that.”

Blades of the helicopter sound nearby cutting through the silence.

“Just hold on Johnny we’re gonna get you patched up. Then I want to see you in that suit again.”

“Anything for you bonnie.”

—

He recovered well with you by his side of course. You dressed his wound properly and gave him a kiss to make it heal faster he would say. Then two weeks later he showed up in a suit with flowers at your office door. The rest is history, but the team is much happier not listening to Soap’s rambling about you but they are happy nonetheless.

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