"How long?"
Whumpee was far from caring how weak they sounded. The rasp- the shake in their voice. Whumper's eyes lifted, looking at Whumpee over their glasses, "Speak up, dove."
dove...
Whumpee shivered as an ice-cold rush rippled up their spine. Not dove, they were Whumpee they were going to be free and-
"Ho-how long have I b-been here...with you?"
The corner of Whumper's mouth curled up in a grin- as if tugged by a string. "Two years, darling. I can't believe you remembered our anniversary!!!"
Whumpee's heart stopped, all the air felt as if it was knocked out of them as the room suddenly felt cold. They could feel their heartbeat pounding in their ears.
Two years...
They felt a heavy weight against their shoulder, instantly flinching away. A hand closed in their hair. Whumpee cried out as their head was yanked with full force backwards, Whumper growled in their ear, "But clearly two years isn't enough, is it?"
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I don't know if I'd exactly classify this as whump, but it doesn't fit with the content on my main blog. i was rewatching Sweet Home before I wrote this, if that gives any context lol
tw: character death, minor whump, child death, crushing, multiple whumpees (everyone but speaker), severed head/limbs, lmk if I should add more
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Even as I write this, my hands trembling with every press of the keyboard, I can still hear their voices. I can still hear their screaming cries for help. There was nothing I could do to help, and their faces will forever be ingrained in the depths of my mind.
I hadn’t noticed it at first. No one did. A crack here, and a crack there, just like glass. We all brushed it off as another one of those repairs the apartment building’s landlord pushed onto the backburner for us to deal with. It happened every month at first, then every fortnight, to every week, and soon, there wasn’t a single night where the walls cracked and wheezed through aged plaster. I had gotten used to opening my front door to dust clouds and fraying lines in the walls in front of me.
When the first floor of apartments fell, it was chaos. Bodies crushed from the impact, pleading hands frozen as they separated from the bodies they came from. I had only felt a tremor, being on the second floor, but we had all ran as fast as our legs could take us to the lobby. Children cried as the crushing got louder, and louder, and louder until anything that wasn’t drilled to the floor began to crumble and break apart.
The first person I saw die was a little boy. Couldn’t have been more than nine years old, and he had the world in his eyes. We ate pre-packaged sandwiches together the night before, and he was just so innocent. It was the collapsing of my floor that got him. I told the others he must have run from my line of sight, but now there’s no one to lie to anymore. Not anymore. He had tripped up as we made our way back from our little scavenge, and before we knew it the third floor was falling, and it was either him or me. A slab of the ceiling was what got him; decapitated the poor boy’s head cleanly.
When the floor above the lobby started to go and everyone panicked, it was then that I must have been at my most selfish. I went back for no one. Rescued no one. I picked up my bag, grabbed the bottle of water by my side and made a dash for the doors. I shut the door behind me, barred it and shut my eyes in equal earnest as they pleaded for me to call help – to call anyone.
I walked away.
I’m sorry I wasn’t the brave person you thought I was, little Billie. But I am alive. I hope that counts for something.
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Honor | sick!reader x sanji
In which you feel like your devil fruit makes you owe something to the world, and Sanji cannot bear the sight of you tiring yourself out for others.
✧ gn reader; established relationship, hurt/comfort, caretaker!sanji; 1.2k words
Once upon a time, a tall man in fully black attire observed the moon by your side.
“You are an angel” he told you; “Protecting your people has never been a choice for you, but an honour.”
And there you are now, a lifetime later, on a galleon overflowing with those who need your help. Your captain — or, better, the captain of the crew you are tagging along with — has only asked the little reindeer to assist them as much as possible; he as not even thought of making you worry with their affairs, and yet, you cannot just stay there as newly freed ex-slaves bleed to death.
You kneel before a woman whose shaking arms almost make her look like a withered leaf, and your divine smile lets her breathe a little easier. “Please, let me see your injuries.”
One after another, the wounded line up in front of you; the miracles briefly shine in white halos as the cuts close on their own; before you know it, almost every member of the needing crew can stand up on their own, and you let out a sigh of relief, finally allowing yourself to take a minute and breathe. You let your head rest on the main mast and a black figure is quickly by your side — you would jump away if your numb limbs were responding.
“My love, are you okay? Your face is too pale.” It's just Sanji, not the ghost from your memory. He doesn't realize he has frightened you, since your breathing is too heavy to reply. “Lean on me, I got you.”
You wish to raise your head and smile, but the wooden support is taken away from your nape and it only feels as if your lover has stolen your pillow, replacing it with the much softer one that was his chest. Your eyelashes flutter against your will — or maybe with your consent, as numbness has eventually reached your eyes and your sclera is filled with small and acidic dots, and your new nest unwillingly lulls you into oblivion.
You only hear the faint vibration of his voice over your ear; then, the silence.
.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・.
Two round pupils shine in the pitch black of your room, and this time you can actually bolt away from them, ignoring the painful spin of your head. “What do you want?!”
But their owner's big hat turns around and Chopper gasps at you, too happy to pry. “You woke up! Sanji—” His hoof presses on him. “Sanji, wake up!”
It's horror, the feeling that distorts your face. He has fallen asleep against your bed, arms crossed on the sheets and his golden head lazily dangles up.
“What... Ah!” And his eyes look for yours, sighing in relief even though your gazes do not meet. “How are you feeling?”
“I...” you try, failing to pile your words into a sentence. Adrenaline finally wears down, and your arms fall back to where they originally lied. “I don't know.”
Chopper listens to your heartbeat, and thus he shakes his head. Everything seems okay now; you just overdid your powers, and the only medicine you need is food. The reindeer leaves you two alone, and Sanji asks if you are hungry. As you nod, he stands up. “Wait for me.” Not even five minutes later, he is back with a warm bowl of seafood spaghetti, and he sits by your side.
“Iron and iodine, proteins and sodium for a quick recovery.” He introduces the dish with a smile too soft for your heart, and guilt feasts before you do. You swallow within an arid throat, and your eyes lower on the hands that have brought you to safety.
“How long have I slept?”
“Several hours, less than I feared for” he replies. “The sun has just started rising. I can open the curtains for you to see, if you wish.” But your approval comes too quickly.
“Please do” you urge, and you know he has noticed; a small crumble of the bread of your past, and if Thumbling begins following the rests, he can trace his way back to you. He doesn't need to, his vision a witness to the relief of your features as you glance back at the sea. “Thank you” you whisper, and as he sits back by your side, one of his hands looks for yours, his lips brushing against your knuckles.
“Please, never scare me like that again.” It's not the first time you tire yourself out in front of him — but, usually, it never goes beyond a brief lighthead.
“I'm sorry.”
“Do not apologize, either.” His lips have yet to leave the back of your pale hand. It looks so fragile, intertwined with his; a false diamond, so beautiful and yet unworthy. “I just want you to know that you don't have to risk your life for others. The pain of the world is not yours to bear.” There's a glint of a tear in his irises, and you feel small. Not in age or size, but in soul.
“It is, though. I am an angel—”
“You are also my angel, my love.” It does not matter if he has interrupted you; not now, when his eyes so desperately look for yours. “I could not forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
“It's an honour” a man has told you so many moons before. It was the Strawhats who saved you from him, and yet you seem unable to let go of the words he has repeated to you for two decades. You have told Sanji many times before that he can be selfish with you; then why can't you?
“I love you” you whisper, still unable to put more strength in your body. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”
“But I want you to be selfish, my dear.” It's gorgeous, the way your golden boy reads your mind. The prince of your heart, of your soul as a whole.
“I will try.” This time, you achieve in sketching a smile on your lips, and he leans to leave a kiss on them. “I think I will require your aid, but I will try my best.”
“You know I will follow you until death rips the breath of life out of this cursed body.” He's himself again; you can breathe, now. “Speaking of which... Do you need help with eating?”
“Truth be told, I think I do.” You know he would have hoped for this answer even if your arms had the strength to rise; a smile paints itself on your face as he curls the pasta around the fork, and the savory flavour reignites your mouth. “It's delicious, truly the work of a master... Thank you for cooking for me at this ungodly hour.”
“It's an honour to be cooking for you, my love.”
He's too focused on patting over the small droplet of oil that is peeking out of your lips to notice the tearful eyes of yours; when he realizes what he has done, his face dies in guilt. “Wait, no, don't cry! What did I say wrong?”
“Nothing” you simply reply, and this time you truly mean it. Even when you think that you don't deserve him, your golden prince finds a way to make you love yourself. “You did not say anything wrong.”
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Personally I think there should be more fics/art/etc about an au where Sanji took on Luffy's pain at thriller bark bc of the angst potential
BEFORE ALL THE ZORO FANBOYS FIND ME I agree Sanji would not have handled it nearly as well but that's the delicious part like I don't even think he'd have a "nothing happened" thing bc he'd just be UNCONSCIOUS
ALSO Sanji having such a low opinion of himself and seeing it as just the Right Answer for him to sacrifice himself is >>>> (in the worst/best way)
Sanji on the brink of death and wrestling with all his previous brushes with it
Sanji in the infirmary for weeks on end unconscious and towing the line between life and death
Sanji who doesn't understand why everyone's upset with him once he wakes up
Sanji who starts to see that he's worth caring about and he needs to put himself any level other than dead(heh) last
ZORO who doesn't understand why the idiot cook knocked him out to take the thing that would probably kill him and doesn't know what that funny feeling in his chest is about it (newsflash dummy it's called caring about someone)
Idk I just think as a scenario it's rich for potential and I don't see it enough imo
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