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Our Sister? And You?

summary: you and wally’s relationship gets discovered by your siblings

warning: none

pairing: batsis!reader x wally west. batsis!reader x batfam.

a/n: PLEASE let me know if damian’s arabic is wrong, i used google translate. i had a wayyy longer version of this typed out but it was just long random scenes that i couldn’t tie together. dividers by: @cafekitsune. requested by anon!

“Stop being so loud!” Tim hissed as him and Damian hopped into your sitting room window at two in the morning. “I thought you were meant to be the stealthy one.”

Cass slipped in behind them, her fingers to her lips. She was already moving further into your sitting room, with every intent to see her beloved sister, but did not want to interrupt your sleep.

#this is so darling!!!#wally west #dc rec

if-loves

(don't) come to me!

// vivien hugo x fem! reader

syn: as the intern assistant manager in blue lock, your responsibilities are endless and your salary is low. as if that wasn't already bad enough, you wind up drawing the distaste of new gen 11 player vivien hugo, and you don't even know what you did!

or in which, hugo falls in love with you at first sight, but you think he absolutely hates you.

wc: 814

notes: fem pronouns / fluff / no y/n used / ooc hugo / miscommunication-ish / they're both stupid your honor / reader is an intern assistant manager (is that a role probably not but who cares) / don't think too hard about how you got to bllk,,, just know that you are there

a/n: this is that idea i posted a little while ago, unfortunately i can't promise this is any good but if people like it enough i might do a little series with them since i do think it's the kind of idea that is better presented over multiple writings (i also realised that hugo's part sounds slightly... ominous/overtly serious (?) but at the same time it is hugo so.) enjoy!

it was supposed to be routine, just another part of your duties as an intern assistant manager to blue lock. helping the foreign teams accommodate, guiding them to training areas and other similar facilities, but how did it end up with france's vivien hugo basically breathing down your neck?!

to put the timeline into place, it started with ego ordering you to help some france players around the blue lock facility. you did ask why loki and charles couldn't just help themselves since, you know, they were here just awhile ago, but he ignored you. such is the life of an intern, you suppose…

#cute!!!!! he would Intimidate Me for sure #bllk rec

twentymins

"you forgot to close the blinds…" you groaned as the morning sunlight hit your closed eyes.

as you turned around to bury your face in his chest, you felt kakashi’s hand press on the top of your head, your cheek being squished against his chest.

"you were the last one to get to bed, it’s your fault, you go close 'em." he whined back as he threw his other hand on his eyes to block the light.

"it’s your house not mine."

"like i care. you go close them or i kick you out."

at that you abruptly sat up and glared at him. his left eye was already open and looking at you with amusement.

"you wouldn’t dare."

"watch me."

and before you could blink, you were in your pajamas outside his front door, banging on it like you just got locked out. because you did.

"KAKASHI!"

"go away, stalker."

kakashi was having a blast inside, laying on his bed with the blinds now closed, while his next door neighbor was peeking at you through his blinds out of curiosity as he heard the commotion coming from outside his front door.

you huffed and crossed your arms in annoyance. a glare was sent at the neighbor when your eyes met his, and he rapidly closed his blinds as he realized with horror that he had been caught being nosy.

"i’m gonna kill you."

"would love to see it!"

"this is so embarrassing."

"tell me about it!”

"i’m breaking up with you."

he stopped laughing immediately.

"have fun being single again, i’m sure genma will be more than happy to—"

but you soon heard the sound of the lock and were faced with your boyfriend’s cold stare. his smirk had been wiped away as fast as he got you outside.

"genma?"

"yeah, genma. you know, the guy who still has something for—“

but kakashi heard enough as he grabbed you by the waist to toss you back inside, forcing a squealing smile out of you as you were thrown on the mattress.

"yeah sure."

#i love him :(((#kakashi #naruto rec

rae-writes

hands on

multiple one piece boys; fluff!! || where you like to [casually] touch your man || 1.2k

No matter what was going on or what he was wearing, Luffy always looked good— whether that be ‘cute’, ‘hot’, ‘handsome’, ‘pretty’ or some other flattering adjective— he was a looker. End of story. But you couldn’t help but especially love when his straw hat wasn’t on his head; watching his hair rest over his forehead or rustle with the wind always had you staring. It was an absolute pleasure to run your fingers through his black tresses to feel the softness, running your nails along his scalp to make him shiver with tingles and sigh in content. The first time, he fell asleep in your lap within seconds. He’d woken up with a plea to do it some more so he could actually bask in the feeling and from then on it was something he actively sought out. It felt so good, soothing, relaxing…whether it was just a passing ruffle or hours worth of head massaging, he adored it, and he adored you.

How could you not want to grab Sanji’s waist? He was the perfect prince charming with such a lean figure and a subtle hourglass cinch to his waist that was worth drooling over. And drool you did because goddamn, did your boyfriend deserve someone to lavish him with heart eyes and attention. You loooove to come up behind him and grip his waist, either resting there or giving it a good squeeze; it’s usually followed with a kiss anywhere you can reach, or kisses everywhere you can reach. The first time it ever happened, his nose bled like a popped vessel and he melted into your arms. Practically begged you to not let go. The action has him forever smiling and blushing, giving you reciprocal heart eyes (though that’s typical behavior when he’s around you anyway). His own hands will find yours, rubbing over your knuckles so intimate and sweet, voice a soft murmur as he gives you an adoring little ‘hi’ followed by whatever french nickname he has for you at that moment.

#ty for the yummy food #one piece rec #op rec

moviecritc

your serious best friend, jason todd, turns into a giggling mess when he's drunk ˚.✦

You’d known Jason for years. He was your serious best friend: the guy who always had a plan, who carried the weight of the world (and a few extra bullets) on his broad shoulders. Stoic and sarcastic with his signature scowl that makes criminals rethink their life choices. Tonight, though, you’d dragged him out with a simple promise: “Just a few drinks, Jay. No brooding allowed.”

He’d rolled his eyes but agreed, sliding into the booth across from you in his usual leather jacket and dark jeans. “Fine. If I start talking about literature, cut me off.”

You laughed, clinking your first beer against his. “Of course.”

Two rounds in, Jason was still mostly himself, a few grumbles about how the city never changed. But by the third drink, the shift started. It began with a small chuckle. Not his usual. This was lighter. Weirdly higher.

You paused mid-sip, eyeing him over your glass. “You okay there, big guy?”

#the cutest parootie actually #your writing is so charming op thank you for the good food always #jason #dc rec

em1e

⠀ ⠀わかさ // BABY SITTER'S CLUB ⠀ ༝ ༝ wakasa imaushi [ft. cousin!sano's/black dragons] ⠀ ༝ ༝ 4.2k words ⠀ ༝ ༝ some drinking ! ⠀ — shinichiro asks if you can babysit your younger cousin's for the night, and you get to have a late night convo with his pretty friend after.

you think you might’ve been doomed from the start.

shinichiro didn’t specify what you’d need to babysit your younger cousins for, just that he was desperate because his grandpa was out of town and none of his friends could be trusted to actually watch them. you could almost hear him falling to his knees to beg over the phone.

you like to think you’re a nice person. generous and caring, and you haven’t seen mikey or emma in a while anyways, so there was no real harm in saying yes. taking every penny from his wallet was a plus, too.

#this is so darling i’m in love i can see this romcom perfectly in my mind #wakasa #tokrev rec

focksie

The Ghost of Bonten

a/n: idk I just thought about this, hope you enjoy! Lmk if you want a part 2 <3 also requests for bonten x reader is open! Feel free to submit anything

notes: Bonten x reader

Well, fuck.

At this current moment you’re sitting outside one of Bonten’s meeting rooms patiently waiting for your fate. How could a receptionist fuck up this badly? For a criminal organisation that literally specialises in death, they sure do have a bunch of company policy bullshit when it comes to punching another Bonten member in the face. To be fair, he completely deserved it, especially after calling you “lowlife trash”. After that, there really wasn’t must that you could do, you just had to punch him in his stupid face. And you don’t regret it, even if it costs you your life.

For the last 4 months, working as a front desk receptionist at Japan’s most notorious criminal organisation, has been interesting, to say the least. Most of your job consists out of greeting members at the entrance of the Bonten building with nothing but a smile. Most of the lower level members of Bonten always greet you back, with plastered on smiles and hungry eyes that rake your body from top to bottom. It disgusts you, but one way or another you’ll be sitting in one of those executive seats, bossing people around and drinking with the big boys.

Speaking of the big boys, they never greet you.

Rindou Haitani. He often comes walking into the building, hands in his pockets, and an expression on his face that executes pure boredom. He hasn’t greeted you once in the 4 months that you’ve worked here. You’ve greeted him once, of which he stared at you directly in the eyes, and flat out ignored you. Ever since then, you haven’t greeted him.

His infamous older brother, Ran Haitani. The first thing you noticed about him was the smell of his expensive cologne. His hair is always slicked back perfectly, and his suit is probably worth more than your life. He’s greeting you once. To be honest, you wouldn’t even call it greeting. He waltz in there, busy on the phone. As per your basic expectation contract, you have to greet everyone that walks into the building. So of course, you greeted with a high pitched “Hi!” and a rosey smile, expecting nothing in return. Now imagine your surprise when he quickly glanced out you - still on the phone - and shot you a quick wink. You’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like the way it made you feel.

Haruchiyo Sanzu - the craziest motherfucker alive. Every single time he enters the Bonten building, he’s either drunk or high or both. He always greets you back, with a mischievous smirk and nine out of ten times, manic eyes combined with a simple “Hi, Doll.” Sometimes you swear you can feel him undressing you with his eyes. He scares you. Especially when he walks into the building with clothes drenched in blood and an attitude that screams ‘no fucks given’.

Hajime Kokonoi AKA the man who hired you. Needless to say, he’s been the ‘nicest’ towards you. Always greeting first, followed by a ‘how are you today?’ The thing you appreciate most about Kokonoi is his calming demeanour, and in an organisation like Bonten when everything is constantly chaos, it’s nice having a calming presence around. In fact, you’re sitting outside of his meeting room right now, waiting to be called in. You’re hoping that his calm demeanour stays just that when he finds out what you’ve done.

The first thing you noticed about Kakucho wasn’t the massive scar on his face, but rather his eyes. You remember thinking to yourself that this man has beautiful eyes the one time you made eye contact. He also never greets you.

Manjiro Sano - the man you’ve heard so much about, but never seen. When reception get quiet, you like to fantasise about what he looks like. You wonder what colour his hair is, and how the fuck he managed to start an organisation as powerful as Bonten. You wonder how his persona is like. Surely he must be ruthless as hell, even more so than Sanzu. The thought sends shivers up your spine, and in some sense, you’re happy that you’ve never seen him before.

Which brings us back to where you are now. Sitting quietly outside the meeting room, trying your best to listen in to what that motherfucker is saying about you to Kokonoi. You just know that he’s speaking shit about you. Your leg is bouncing up and down and you’re struggling to keep yourself calm, especially when you hear that ugly motherfucker refer to you as a “stupid slut” behind the closed doors.

You keep telling yourself to sit still, to look composed, to not give that bastard the satisfaction of knowing you’re nervous; but your body betrays you. Every muffled voice from inside the meeting room makes your pulse spike, especially his. The one you punched. You can hear him whining, dramatising the situation, dragging your name through the dirt, and every insult makes your fingers curl into fists.

You stare down at the polished marble tiles, trying to focus on your breathing, when something shifts in the corner of your vision. A shadow, maybe. Fabric moving. Your head spikes up immediately.

There’s a man standing a few meters away, like he’d been there the entire time.

You hadn’t heard footsteps. No doors opening. No presence approaching. He’s just there, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. The kind of stillness that feels deliberate, controlled. Like he takes up space without trying.

Silver hair, colder eyes than anyone you’ve met in this building, but there’s no recognition. No dramatic aura. He doesn’t look dangerous. He just looks… calm. Too calm for Bonten. He isn’t glaring or judging. He’s simply watching you, as if observing a crime scene he hasn’t decided how to interpret yet.

For a moment you wonder if you’re supposed to say hi. You open your mouth, but he speaks first.

“Do you think they’ll kick you out?”

His tone isn’t mocking. Not pitying. Not even curious. It’s just neutral, like he’s asking about the weather. You blink, thrown off by how casual it sounds.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice tight. “Maybe.”

He tilts his head slightly - barely an expression, eyes still locked on yours. It’s hard to tell if he’s bored or calculating.

“Hm.”

Just that. A single syllable. He looks away, begins walking past you like the conversation never happened. Not fast, not slow - just drifting, silent footsteps that somehow make no sound at all.

You watch him disappear around the corner, and the air feels colder once he’s gone. Whoever he was, he didn’t greet you. He didn’t threaten you. He didn’t seem to care at all. But your stomach twists anyway. Because for some reason, being ignored by him feels more dangerous than being noticed by anyone else in this building.

The door clicks open, and the noise behind it dies instantly. Kokonoi stands by the head of the long conference table, eyes shifting to you with that calm, unreadable expression he always has—like he’s calculating profit margins, not people.

“Sit,” he says simply.

You take the seat farthest from him, the seat at the back, spine straight, hands on your lap, pretending you’re not trembling. The guy you punched sits across from you, arms crossed, a bruised cheek already turning purple. He won’t look at you—just keeps glaring at the table like it personally offended him.

“You instigated physical violence against a ranked member of Bonten,” Kokonoi begins, tone flat. “And while the circumstances are questionable, the reputation cost isn’t negligible.”

You open your mouth to speak - but the door opens again. Three new presences enter the room like a shift in atmosphere.

Ran walks in first, hands in his pockets, expression laced with amused curiosity—as if he already knows something you don’t. His eyes flick down your body once, then he smiles to himself and takes a seat beside Kokonoi without acknowledging you.

Rindou follows, shoulders tense, eyes sharp and assessing. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed, stare cutting through you like he’s trying to diagnose a problem he hasn’t decided how to fix.

Sanzu is last - hair slightly messy, gaze unfocused yet far too intense at the same time. He shuts the door behind him with unnecessary force and sits down lazily, lips twitching into a smirk when he sees you.

None of them speak.

No introductions. No greeting.

Just eyes on you.

Kokonoi continues like their arrival means nothing, but the room feels tighter. “You understand that striking a member disrupts internal hierarchy,” he says. “There are protocols. Chain of command. A receptionist has no clearance to-”

“Who told you to sit in the back?” Sanzu interrupts, tilting his head at you. Your heartbeat stops. Everyone looks at you. You swallow. “No one. I just-”

“So you assumed you belonged there?” he says, voice soft but mocking. “Interesting.”

Ran snorts quietly, tapping his fingers on the table. “She’s got instinct. Better than most rookies.”

“Instinct gets people killed,” Rindou mutters.

None of them are looking at the guy you hit anymore—they’re looking at you. Kokonoi’s gaze sharpens slightly, a crack in his calm.

“This wasn’t supposed to be a panel review.”

Sanzu’s smile widens, manic interest flickering in his eyes. “Oh, we’re not here for the review.”

Ran’s voice is smooth, lazy, dangerous. “We’re here because he wanted to know why she did it.” Silence drops like a knife. Your pulse spikes. You force your voice to stay steady.

“Who?” All three look at you like the answer should be obvious. Sanzu leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes burning holes in your skin.

“Mikey.”

Your breath stops. Kokonoi finally looks away, exhaling through his nose like this entire situation is a problem he now has to solve.

“Sano wanted us to observe your disposition,” Ran clarifies, eyes narrowing with intrigue. “He doesn’t usually care about receptionists.”

The man you punched erupts, slamming his fist on the table. “What the hell does she have to do with the Boss?! She’s the one in the wrong-”

Kokonoi lifts a hand and the room goes quiet like someone cut the sound. “This isn’t a punishment hearing anymore,” he says calmly. “It’s an evaluation.”

You suddenly understand: You’re not here to be disciplined. You’re here to be assessed. By Mikey. Through them. And none of them look like they intend to be gentle.

For a second it’s silent. No one tells you to speak, so you sit there, hands pressed together in your lap, pulse hammering in your throat. Kokonoi finally folds his arms and faces you directly.

“Why did you hit him?” His voice is calm, almost bored, as if there is a right answer and he already doubts you have it. You take a breath. “He insulted me.”

“That’s not an answer,” Kokonoi replies instantly, “It’s a reaction.” Sanzu drags a slow glare across the table toward him, and he immediately shuts up. No one tells him to. He just knows.

Kokonoi continues. “You’re in an organisation built on hierarchy. Insults come with the territory. Why couldn’t you control yourself?”

“Because I didn’t think that he deserved to speak to me that way,” you answer boldly. The room shifts. Very slightly. Like you said something incorrect. Ran raises a brow, intrigued. Rindou’s expression darkens. Kokonoi’s jaw tightens the way it does when numbers don’t balance.

Sanzu is the one who speaks. “You think respect is something you’re owed.” He says it like a diagnosis, not a criticism. You swallow. “I think respect goes both ways.”

Ran laughs under his breath, leaning back. “Oh, she’s bold.”

Rindou mutters, “No. She’s naïve.”

Kokonoi muses quietly, “Boldness without power is a death sentence.”

Before you can respond, Sanzu taps the table with one finger. “Stand up.” It’s not a request. Your chair scrapes loudly against the marble as you rise. The sound echoes too long. Sanzu watches you like he’s tracking prey - lazy posture, razor-sharp eyes. He gestures to the guy you punched.

“Hit him again.”

You stare at Sanzu, unsure if you heard correctly. Ran stops tapping his fingers. Rindou’s gaze sharpens. Even Kokonoi looks at Sanzu like he’s testing a hypothesis too early.

“I…” Your voice catches. “Right now?”

“No,” Sanzu deadpans. “Next Tuesday.” Then he smiles. Sharp and dominating. “Of course right now.” The man across from you shifts uncomfortably, suddenly less confident now that other eyes are on him.

Kokonoi sighs. “This isn’t necessary.”

“It is,” Sanzu counters, tone sugary-sweet but laced with venom. “She acted on impulse. I want to see if she has conviction.”

Ran folds his hands behind his head.

“Or if she only fights when she’s emotional.”

Rindou adds, “Or if she learned her lesson.”

All eyes return to you. You feel heat crawl up your neck. Every instinct screams that this is a trap - for you or for him, you’re not sure. “But-” You pause, choosing your words carefully, “What is the purpose?”

Ran smirks. “She wants a business case for assault.” Out of the corner of your eyes, you see how Rindou rolls his eyes, before replying with, “Purpose is obedience. You were given an order.”

Your pulse spikes. They’re not testing your violence. They’re testing your submission. Slowly, you exhale. “No.” The room goes dead silent and you wish you would just evaporate into thin air, because what the living fuck is going on.

Sanzu’s smile vanishes, replaced by something darker, “You’re refusing?” You nod once. “I won’t hit someone just because I was told to. I hit him because he crossed a line. That hasn’t changed.” The air shifts again - this time in your favor, somehow. Ran looks like he just discovered a new favorite distraction. Even Rindou looks reluctantly impressed.

Kokonoi leans back, studying you more deeply now. “So you’re not impulsive. You’re principled.” Sanzu taps his teeth with his tongue, clearly irritated, “Or she’s just stubborn.”

Ran counters smoothly, “Stubborn keeps people alive longer than obedient.” The guy you punched finally snaps.“Why the fuck are we entertaining this? She’s a receptionist. She doesn’t matter-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence.

Sanzu’s chair screeches back as he stands, crosses the room in three steps, and slams his hand onto the guy’s shoulder so hard the table shakes. His voice drops to a whisper that everyone hears. “If he didn’t want us here, we wouldn’t be. Shut up.”

Ran taps his lip thoughtfully, “So what do we do with her?” The question isn’t directed at Kokonoi; it’s directed at the room.

Rindou shrugs. “Keep her where she is. She’s harmless.”

Sanzu scoffs. “No one with that ego is harmless. Move her. Give her responsibility.”

Ran smiles. “I want to see what she does when we stop underestimating her.”

Kokonoi exhales slowly, eyes narrowing and calculating.“Or she could be reassigned to someone with the authority to manage her.”

Sanzu’s grin widens. “Oh? You volunteering?” Kokonoi doesn’t answer. The tension sharpens, threading between them like wire. They’re not just deciding your fate - they’re negotiating over you. You open your mouth, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. Before you can choose, Rindou cuts in.

“This is pointless. If he’s interested, he’ll decide. We’re wasting time.” The room goes dead still. Sanzu slumps back into his seat, suddenly bored.

After a few seconds of silence, Kokonoi announces, “Meeting dismissed. She will remain under observation.”

The asshole you punches is about to opens his mouth to complain about the fact that you’re let off so easily. That is until Sanzu notices out of the corner of his eye, and looks at him, slightly tilting his head. He offers him a gruesome smile, almost like telling him ‘if you speak I’ll slice open your stomach and play with your organs.’ He picks this up, and immediately lowers his head.

“Go back to reception, we will call you if need be,” Kokonoi continues.

You say nothing, stand up, offer a quick bow, and you shoot out of that meeting room like a bullet. As you walk out, you can feel their eyes lingering on your frame and you internally shiver.

You close the door quietly behind you and rest against it, immediately falling down to the ground and letting out a huge sigh of relief. You can finally breathe again.

Something catches your attention out of the corner of your eyes. It causes you to sharply turn your head, still alert due to the fuckass meeting you just had. It’s the strange man from earlier. You tilt your head, “You again.”

Before he has the chance to respond, you continue your sentence, “you’re like a fucking ghost.” You break eye contact and gently throw your head back against the door, where they’re still busy inside. He doesn’t seem to be offended. In fact, he ignores your statement entirely.

“You get kicked out?”

A small giggle of relief leaves your lips, “Not yet, thank fuck.”

He says nothing. He just stares - observes. You wonder who the fuck this man is. Why is he so curious? Why is he like a literal ghost? Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?”

You slowly push yourself up from where you were sitting, “I don’t know, maybe an assistant?” He offer no expression, except for raising an eye brow. He’s not offended; he finds it interesting that you think he’s an assistant. Little did you know that you were in for the shock of your life.

“Hm,” he responds once again, deep in thought about what you said.

“Well,” you interrupt his train of thought, “are you?”

You’re now standing up again, and feeling a bit more relaxed in this random man’s calming presence.

“No.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion - you thought you were good at reading people. “Then who are you?”

Before he could answer the door swings open. Sanzu and the Haitani brothers walk out, and before they shut the door, you catch a glimpse on what’s happening inside the meeting room. The guy you punched, drenched in blood, breathing slowly as if struggling, Kokonoi sitting opposite him. You look away, and you’re remind that you work for a criminal organisation, crawling with cold hearted killers.

“Why aren’t you at the front desk?” Rindou asks sharply. You open your mouth but before you can reply, Ran interrupts you, “disobeying another order? Interesting.” He smirks.

Sanzu cackles at Ran’s statement, and it makes you nervous. Their presence makes you nervous. He catches of the still unknown man standing calmly as ever in the hallway.

“She’s an interesting one, isn’t she boss?”

Boss.

Your blood runs cold. All colour drains from your face and your mouth hangs open in shock.

Before anyone can say anything you bow, “I - Excuse me. I have to get back to work.” You turn your back and quickly walk down the hallway towards the elevator. Thank fuck it opens before you have to press the button and wait. A man in a suit walks out and spots the men in the corridor. He completely ignores you, “Mikey. Good to see you. Let’s get straight down to business shall we?”

Mikey. It’s been confirmed. You were chit chatting with the leader of Bonten. You called him an assistant. You shake your head in embarrassment before entering the elevator.

Once inside, you turn around and press the ‘ground floor’ button. Before the elevator doors close, you make eye contact with someone. With him. The literal boss of Bonten. His cold, empty eyes stare at you and don’t look away until the doors have closed completely.

You don’t know what the fuck just happened, but you did know one thing - you needed a drink.

#i Adore this #tokyo revengers #tokrev rec

scissorhvnds

dick grayson x secretary!reader's first meeting!

read more here!

dick grayson absolutely loses his mind when he first lays eyes on you.

you, who exited the elevator while clutching a folder so tightly in your palms that the bottom wrinkled under the pressure. he didn't notice you stepping out of the elevator until it was too late. your body crashed into his, papers from the folder flying around the two of you.

you immediately dropped to your knees, spewing apologies as you attempted to gather the papers back in their correct order and back into the folder.

"i'm so sorry, i didn't see you there," you stated again, first day jitters lighting up your body like fireworks.

dick took a knee beside you as well, handing you a loose paper that strayed near his feet. "don't worry about it, you're all good…"

your head lifted at the found of his voice, eyes meeting his.

yeah, he was a goner.

the meeting he was on his way to momentarily forgotten, his sentence trailing off, eyes wide and focused on your form. he swears he didn't drool at the sight of you (he totally did), but your tailored dress pants and fitted black vest over a white long sleeve caused a fuse to blow out in his brain, the only sign of life being the hearts that were replacing his irises.

he smiled at you in an attempt to regain his composure, the tips of his straight teeth peeking from between the curve. your eyes were the first thing he noticed. bold, beautiful, the depth of colour that sucked him in with no chance of escaping, not that he wanted to.

you held your hand out in greeting, adding your name softly afterwards.

his hand automatically lifted to yours, fingers gently curling around your palm with a gentleness that toed the line of professionalism. he parted his lips to speak, to will a sound to come out of his mouth. ideally, he would have a smooth line to woo you, to see if he could fluster you enough to get you to go to dinner with him.

but no words left his mouth. he was left gaping like a fish.

another time then. he would have to try his luck next time he saw you.

he didn't miss the way your brow furrowed momentarily before smoothing back in place at his silence. he really wasn't leaving the first impression he wanted to. he internally cringed at the thought.

"can you direct me to, uh, mr. richard grayson? these files are for him. from mr. wayne."

"dick is fine,"

"pardon? i mean, i don't know him but i wouldn't call him a dick—"

your confusion only deepened at the sound of his amused chuckle. your hand dropped from his grasp to nudge a stray hair from your cheek before pulling the folder back to your chest. you lifted yourself back up to your feet and dusted your attire off.

he followed, eyes never leaving your face. he couldn't look away. he swore his heart comically beat out of his chest, like he was some loony tunes character seeing the personof his dreams.

well, he was. he was seeing the person of his dreams.

"dick grayson," he held his hand out again in greeting. "no one really calls me richard."

"okay, well, this file is yours then, mr. grayson," you slid the file into his outstretched hand instead, offering him a tight-lipped smile in return. his eyes flickered down your lips, brain short-circuting again.

"grank— i-i mean great, thanks!" he corrected himself quickly. his eyes shut tightly for a moment before opening back up. "thank you for the file. this is great. um. you're doing amazing so far."

he paused for a moment before quickly walking by you and towards the meeting room. embarrassment heated his face like fire.

"grank?" he muttered under his breath in disgust. "what the fuck is my problem."

you turned back towards the elevator equally as confused, muttering under your own breath, "weird."

an: despite literally wanting to write vamp!bruce very badly (it's being written slowly but surely), I am really enjoying these small little blurbs?? might keep these going for a while. let me know if you wanna see more dick x secretary!reader lore or more vamp!jason x reader lore

taglist: @mollymal , @redhooduwu , @girlmeetsolivia , @athenxt , @nightlights-and-twiklingstars , @silverjaysz , @l0singctrl , @drea18881 , @calicocat-ina-tuxedo , @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger , @mrbusinessman , @starr-jazz

#ehehehe this is so cute #dick grayson #dc rec

mooncleaver

He's Kind of Cute.

ღ summary: Your (not so) quiet crush on Sanji through Nami’s eyes

ღ pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

ღ warnings: Disgusting(ly bad) flirting :D not an established relationship but they act like a couple anyway! reader with long-ish hairr, she's chalant af

Nami finds out about your crush on Sanji during girls night.

You don’t know what was better, when no one knew about this thing you had for him, or having your best friend aware, which meant that you finally had someone else to rave on about Sanji and everything that he is.

She calls you “lame”, but the truth is that you are helpless.

#I LOVE THIS FIC SO SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH OMG THIS IS HOW I FEEL ABT HIM FR !!!!!!!!!!!#YES !!!!!#fave #sanji #op rec #opla rec

selnvl

focus

featuring. y. itadori

note. thank you @reeseeee613 for the request! i hope i was able to meet your expectations and that this isn’t too cringe

morning light filtered softly through the curtains, stretching across the wooden floor in pale gold bands. the apartment was quiet in that fragile way only early hours allow- suspended between sleep and the day ahead. your yoga mat was already placed by the window, incense burning faintly beside it.

yuji hovered a few steps away, hair still rumpled from sleep and his shirt half twisted at the hem, blinking at you with heavy eyes like he was trying to process how he’d ended up here this early.

“why does this have to happen before i’m fully conscious?”

you didn’t look up from where you sat cross-legged. spine straight with hands resting lightly on your knees. “because mornings are peaceful.”

“mornings are disgusting.”

a faint smile touched your lips. “sit.”

he dropped onto the mat across from you with exaggerated reluctance but copied your posture anyway. shoulders back. chin lifted. eyes closed. he even inhaled deeply like he was committed.

he lasted twelve seconds before slouching.

“yuji.”

he straightened immediately. “i’m aligned.”

you hummed softly and raised your arms overhead in one smooth motion, stretching long and slow. your movements were fluid and unhurried- like water shifting shape without resistance. when you leaned gently to one side, it looked effortless.

yuji followed.

less effortless.

his balance wavered, core tightening as he tried to match your calm precision. he corrected quickly, pretending nothing happened, but the tension in his jaw gave him away.

you transitioned into a forward fold, fingertips brushing the mat as sunlight caught along your shoulders. your breathing remained steady and controlled.

he swallowed.

this shouldn’t be so difficult.

he was strong. athletic. used to combat, to impact, to chaos.

and yet he found himself distracted by the simplest thing: the way you moved, how natural it was and how completely immersed you seemed in your flow state, unaware of the effect you had.

“downward dog,” you murmured.

he obeyed.

at first, it was manageable. stretching was normal. stretching was harmless.

then you lifted one leg slowly, extending it upward with seamless balance, adjusting your stance with quiet confidence.

yuji looked.

his brain shut off.

his arms buckled and he dropped to his knees with a dull thud against the mat.

you glanced back over your shoulder, expression serene. “everything okay?”

“perfect,” he said quickly, pushing himself upright. “strategic repositioning.”

you raised a brow but continued without comment, flowing into a lunge. your arms swept upward, back arching slightly as your gaze lifted toward the ceiling. light traced the line of your throat.

he exhaled sharply through his nose and adjusted his stance again, very aware of how unfair this entire situation was becoming.

“yuji,” you said gently, still facing forward.

“hm?”

“you’re not breathing.”

“i am.”

“you’re staring.”

he coughed, looking anywhere but at you. “i’m focused.”

this time, you turned fully toward him. you studied the stiffness in his posture, the flush creeping across his cheeks and the way he kept shifting as if trying to hide something.

you stepped closer and knelt in front of him, hands resting lightly on his hips to correct his alignment. the touch was instructional, nothing more.

for him, it was catastrophic.

“relax your shoulders,” you instructed softly.

he tried. really tried. but your proximity made his thoughts scatter. your hands were warm and steady. grounding in a way that only made him more aware of himself. he squeezed his eyes shut as if discipline alone could save him.

you paused at the subtle change in his breathing. your gaze dipped briefly..and stopped.

slowly, you looked back up at him.

his entire face went red.

“don’t,” he said weakly.

the corner of your mouth curved slightly. “is that why you keep falling?”

“no.”

“yuji.”

he groaned and dragged a hand down his face before covering it completely. “i’m trying to be respectful, baby..,” he muttered.

your expression softened at that. “you could’ve just said you were distracted.”

“i’m not distracted,” he insisted, though the lack of conviction was immediate.

you leaned slightly closer, studying him with quiet amusement. “you’ve fallen four times.”

“…five.”

a quiet laugh slipped from you, warm and unhurried. he swore that sound alone would be the end of him.

you shifted your weight and gently pushed him backward onto his mat. he went without resistance, staring up at you as you hovered above him, hands braced lightly at his sides.

“you need grounding,” you said calmly.

“i feel extremely grounded.”

“focus on your breathing.”

he inhaled shakily. exhaled slower.

you remained there for a moment longer than necessary, watching the way his expression flickered between flustered embarrassment and helpless adoration.

then you finally sat back on your heels.

“yoga is about discipline.”

he dragged both hands over his face. “i am disciplined.”

“you just admitted you’re distracted.”

he peeked at you through his fingers. “…a little.”

you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“we’ll build your endurance.”

he blinked up at you. “this is training?”

“of course.”

he groaned dramatically and flopped back against the mat, staring at the ceiling like a man defeated by inner peace.

“i’m never surviving morning yoga.”

you lay down beside him, turning your head so your noses were almost touching, your breathing already steady again.

“you will.”

he looked at you, still flushed and hopelessly gone.

“…only if you stop looking like that.”

“like what?”

he sighed softly.

“exactly like that.”

and tomorrow morning, when the light spilled in just the same, he would fall all over again.

#i’m #utterly in love with this !!! and him and how you wrote him #yuuji #jjk rec

allmymenarehere

Opla!Sanji x reader

Just casually thinking abt Sanji and your first kiss:

It wasn't uncommon to find you perched on the counter tucked away in the corner of the kitchen, a book in hand and the comfortable sounds of Sanji cooking whatever is on the menu for today in your ears.

When you first took up this spot, the look on Sanji's face was hilarious. He prides himself on his meticulously clean kitchen and here you were plopping your perfect ass (that he stares at all too often when he thinks you're not looking) on the much needed counterspace he had just scrubbed spotless. His protests died before they even came out of his mouth when he saw you flip open your book with a content smile on your face.

Since then, you've become Sanji's official taste tester, his idea bouncer, or simply just someone he can talk to and shoot the shit with while he cooks and he wouldn't have it any other way.

Now, back to your first kiss. Sanji is standing in front of the counter next to you, knife in hand and a look of concentration pushing his brows together. Various veggies are littered across the countertop as his quick hands make easy work chopping. His sleeves are rolled up and his apron wound tightly around his waist framing his chest in the most delicious way.

You glance back at your book and decide it's time to have some fun, "I'm mad at you, you know."

Out of the corner of your eye Sanji's head quickly whip towards you, "Whatever for, my love?"

Still without looking at him you sigh, flipping a page in your book, "Well, ever since I joined the crew, I've been putting on weight. I can only assume it's from all this delicious food you're giving me."

You look up in time to see the concern in his eyes wash away, a playful smirk replacing his frown, "I don't see what the problem is, my dear, when you look even more beautiful than the day we met."

You roll your eyes and groan, "Yeah, sure, but that means I need to work harder to keep it off, unless you plan to buy me a whole new wardrobe."

He walks closer to your countertop, wiping his hands in his apron, "I would love nothing more than to fund a (y/n)-centric fashion show."

He slots himself between your dangling legs and leans over you, caging you in as his hands splayed out on the counter behind you. His pupils are wide, eyes full of affection, "Besides, that just means there's more for me to love."

You can feel the heat radiating from him with how close he was, eyes searching yours with tinted cheeks. You glance at his lips, so so close to yours. You can feel his shaky breath, a stark contrast to the bold, suave moves he's pulling.

The cord snapped when you looked back up at his eyes, only to find him looking at your lips too. You run your free hand up his stomach and chest, twist it in his tie and pull him to you. He makes a small noise of surprise that's quickly drowned out by your lips against his.

An immediate groan came from him, one arm wraps itself around your waist and the other weaves into your hair.

You're pulled to the edge of the counter as Sanji deepens the kiss. Your tongue swipes at his bottom lip and he's more than happy to let you in.

His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer and you wrap your legs around him. The delicious friction between you pulls small noises from you both, his lips now leaving wet kisses down your jaw and neck.

"Sanji..." You give a low moan, dropping your book to the counter and wrap your arms around him.

His hips surge forward in response, letting you feel what you're doing to him. He breathes hard into your neck, "When you say my name like that it sounds like heaven is calling me."

Your legs tighten around him as he moves to rest his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as he cups your cheek and kisses you again. With a little wiggle of your hips, he's moaning into the kiss and moving along with you.

The hand clutching your waist finds the bottom hem of your shirt, traveling up your back to feel your skin against his. He leaves a firey trail in his wake, igniting an even larger steadily growing flame in your belly.

Just before your hand was able to grasp onto the hardness between his legs, you hear a piercing yell from outside the kitchen doors, "SANJIIIII, IM HUNGRY!!"

Sanji throws his head back and lets out a groan that sounded even more pained than any he's let out during battles, "Damn it, Luffy!"

He looks back towards you, a warm smile quickly making its way onto his face, which at the moment is as red as a tomato. He smooths out your hair and clothes, putting you back together after being so close to taking you apart.

With a quick kiss to your lips he whispers, "We'll continue this later, my love."

Your book is back in your hands and Sanji is back chopping veggies when Luffy bursts into the room. He's about to start complaining when he takes in the site before him.

There's you in your usual spot and Sanji in his doing your respective things, but now you share matching smiles, rosey red cheeks, and slightly swollen lips.

But, let's be real, he's not gonna think about it too hard and go right back to talking about food.

#going to be daydreaming abt this for a WHILE #you capture his charm so perfectly i can hear his voice !!!!!! and i’m melting #sanji #opla rec #one piece rec

secretsideoframona

STOP WITH THE “Jason Todd is nonchalant when he’s in love” PROPAGANDA. BOOOOOOOO TOMATO IT

that man would rather DIE AGAIN than be nonchalant. even when he’s trying to be, he’s a terrible liar who makes it obvious when he likes someone. and in these headcannons I made shit-ly, I will-

Jason Todd who has very pink ears the moment you tell him he’s cute

Jason Todd who has sweaty palms the WHOLE time you hold hands for first time

Jason Todd who lets out the biggest snort when you make one of the worst jokes known to man

Jason Todd who trips on air walking simply walking to you

Jason Todd who runs over a pothole while looking at you walking to your door which made him practically FLY out of his seat

Jason Todd who panics with getting you flowers and ends up buying you the whole store on Bruce’s credit card

Jason Todd who fixes his tie a whole fifteen times while he waits for you to open the door to your first date

Jason Todd who breaks down in sobs after an intimate moment

Jason Todd who still feels Jokers hands on him

Jason Todd who sobs even more after you gently rock him and forth, skin to skin, whispering affirmations

Jason Todd who makes you breakfast in the morning, accidentally burning the eggs and bacon

Jason Todd who watches you in awe and disgust because you still ate the burnt food

Jason Todd who makes a playlist based off your favorite songs and songs that remind him of you.

Jason Todd who plays that playlist everyday without fail

Jason Todd who memorized your phone number and knows your voicemail by heart

Jason Todd who thinks about you or him taking each others last name

Jason Todd who buys you everything and anything. Books, snacks, clothing, as long as you’re happy.

Jason Todd who lets you decorate his apartment, motorcycle, helmet.

Jason Todd whose first kiss with you is awkward and really bad due to the fact that he’s nervous

Jason Todd who names the stray cat he took in after you but adding Jr. at the end

Jason Todd who learns how to do your hair

Jason Todd who stops being Red Hood after a few more years because he hates the look on your face when you see him hurt

Jason Todd who does odd jobs but lands a Liberian job while you’re off achieving your dreams

Jason Todd who finally feels peace after he becomes a stay at home husband, taking care of the house. And most especially you. He takes care of you like you took care of him when you both were young.

Jason Todd who got you by never being nonchalant

—

I had an urge to write this my bad, this is so shitty PLEASE. I wrote this while watching 90 day fiancé, it was bound to be terrible, should I make more stuff like this

#YESSSSSSSS !!!! YES !!!!!!!!!#jason todd #dc recs #dc rec

karaaeps

jason todd headcanons (IV) 💭

jason atta girl todd. where whenever he's proud of you he'll say "atta girl," or "thas'my girl," even if it's a whisper, a mutter under his breath, as he softly smiles at you.

jason kiss the pain away todd. where he'll be in so much pain but just tells you to kiss the wound; the bandage even, then he'll sigh all the pain away at the touch of your gentle lips. the second your lips brush his hurt, he exhales like it actually worked. “Oh, thank you, baby… s’all better now, see?” he'll smile, half lie, half genuine, because the pain might still be there, but the touch of you makes it feel a whole lot smaller.

jason cash-on-hand todd. usually, it's an amalgamation of dirty money lifted from the people he’s taking down: thugs, traffickers, arms runners, mob couriers. he skims it off the top during raids and street shake-downs, turning their profits into something closer to restitution. he never keeps it for himself. instead, he quietly redirects it. cash envelopes slipped into donation boxes, medical bills anonymously paid off, community centres suddenly finding their rent covered, shelters receiving “no-questions-asked” bundles that just appear in the mail slot. sometimes it goes straight back into the crime alley neighbourhood: groceries for families who need it, fixing busted storefronts, covering funeral costs when the system won’t. he justifies it as balancing the scales. the money was never clean to begin with, so the least he can do is make it useful.

jason book in back pocket todd. don't really need to expand here. just that he often carries orwell or woolf in the back pocket of his navy denim jeans.

jason receipt keeper todd. and no, it’s not for insurance or budgeting purposes. he keeps them because he’s a sentimental freak. every cafe slip, movie ticket, late-night diner bill. all dated receipts, tucked away somewhere safe so he knows exactly when and where each of your dates happened. he’ll never make a big deal about it, but he keeps them. he always keeps them. he even knows how to preserve the receipt ink. years later, there’s a quiet little archive of your relationship sitting in a box, and if it ever came to it, he’d probably frame the whole collection and give it to you on your wedding day.

jason sentimental over expensive gift giver todd. he'll always choose meaning over price tags. while a lot of girls might expect the normalised markers of romance, jewellery, designer bags, flashy gestures, jason’s gifts tend to be quieter. more personal. things that actually mean something. a book you once mentioned in passing, tracked down months later. a repaired version of something you thought was long gone. a damn shell from the first beach you both went to together. the kind of gift that only works if someone’s been paying attention. a lot of his mentality comes from the way he views capitalism and consumer culture. jason has always felt like consumerism works a little like the devil in disguise when it comes to love. it dresses itself up as romance, convincing people that the value of a relationship should be proven through expensive gifts, status symbols, and price tags. to him, he believes that kind of thing messes with the ground where real affection is supposed to grow. muddying something that should be simple and sincere. muddying the importance of presence and rawness. anyone can buy something expensive. that doesn’t mean they actually know you. because of that, he tends to end up with a certain type. his attraction isn’t anchored by visuals so much as character, someone who understands sentiment, who appreciates the thought behind things rather than the status attached to them. someone who sees the weight in small gestures the same way he does. it does narrow the field a bit. some people find it underwhelming, or assume he’s just being cheap. but for the ones who get it, the ones who value the meaning behind it, it ends up becoming one of the strongest parts of the relationship.

jason doesn't fit in your bathtub todd. again, don't really need to expand here. just imagine water already climbing dangerously high as he tries to lower himself in, shoulders hunched, knees awkwardly folding, the whole tub groaning. the second he shifts his weight, water sloshes over the edge, spilling onto the tiles. you’re yelping at him to get out (!!!) before the bathroom floods, and he’s yelping (!!!!) right back that he’s not even in. the end result is a half-empty tub. there's literally more water on the tiles than the tub itself. and jason's standing there like he’s personally been betrayed by the concept of standard bathtub sizes.

#UGH I LOVE HIM :(((((((#jason come get me right NOW !!!!!!!!#right now immediately i need This jason !!!!#jason todd #dc rec

i-am-a-chubby-girl

Guys, I finally watched the Netflix series of One Piece and, before you judge me for taking three years, those three years went by so fast I didn't even notice them, I simply fell in love! And did you see the cast? Why does everyone have to be so hot? My God, Smoker, I'm still drooling over him. Anyway, I realized there isn't much about them here and I decided I'm going to fill this platform, at my own pace, okay? And here's something simple, a headcanon! My first time writing something like this so please be kind and I hope you enjoy it!

#cuuute!!!#one piece rec

catbayunthestoryteller

Almighty Cure

Pairing: Sanji x f!reader

Summary: the reader is studying to be a doctor like Chopper with the Witch up on the mountain. She heals Sanji and he falls for her while she tends to him. Later, she and Chopper join the Strawhats crew and Sanji tries even harder to pursue her.

The cold bit at skin like it had teeth. It bit through wool, skin, bone, until everything felt brittle and distant. Snowy wind screamed around the mountain like an angry spirit, battering the walls of the old castle and rattling the shutters in their frames.

Inside, the castle smelled of medicine: dried herbs, boiled roots, and old stone warmed by fire.

You stood at a long wooden table, grinding dried leaves into powder with a mortar and pestle. Your hands moved automatically. Grind. Turn. Grind again. Outside the wind howled like a wounded beast, but you barely noticed it anymore.

You had lived on this mountain long enough that winter was simply part of life.

“Too coarse,” came the voice behind you.

You didn’t even look up.

“I’m not finished,” you replied calmly.

“Mm,” hummed Dr. Kureha. “You should have been.”

You finally lifted your eyes.

The old woman leaned against the doorway with her usual sharp, hawk-like expression, long white hair tied behind her shoulders. Even after all this time, she had the unsettling ability to look both amused and annoyed simultaneously.

“You’re getting slow,” she added.

“I’m getting thorough,” you said.

A snort escaped her. “Doctors who take too long lose patients.”

“Doctors who rush lose them too.”

She stared at you for a moment. Then she barked a laugh. “Fair enough.”

A sudden crash echoed from somewhere outside.

Both of you froze.

Footsteps thundered across the upper hall.

Then the door burst open and a small figure tumbled inside in a flurry of fur and panic.

“Doctorine! Doctorine!” cried Tony Tony Chopper.

You straightened immediately. “What happened?”

“There are people!” Chopper blurted. “On the mountain! They collapsed outside!”

Kureha sighed as though someone had interrupted her afternoon tea.

“Well go drag them in then,” she said.

“They’re already here!”

Another pair of doors slammed open down the hall.

#this is so darling!!!!!!!#sanji #op rec #opla rec

moonlitwake

The Woman Who Broke the Pirate

Summary: Sanji has flirted with hundreds of women. He has never once forgotten his lines.

Until tonight.

And suddenly, the cook who could charm anyone can barely remember how to speak.

✧ ･ﾟ: * ⚓ * :･ﾟ ✧ ✧ ･ﾟ: * ⚓ * :･ﾟ ✧ ✧ ･ﾟ: * ⚓ * :･ﾟ

The door of the pub swings open with a creak that barely cuts through the noise inside.

The place is crowded. Laughter, tankards slamming on wood, someone in the corner attempting to sing while another group argues loudly over a card game. The Straw Hats have managed to claim a long table near the back.

Luffy is halfway through a mountain of food. Usopp is telling a wildly exaggerated story. Nami is counting the cost of everything they’ve ordered. Zoro is drinking.

Sanji stands near the end of the bar, one hand resting lightly on the counter, a cigarette glowing between his fingers as he chats with the cook behind it. The man had been more than happy to let another chef behind the bar earlier, especially after Sanji fixed a sauce that had been bothering him all evening.

“See?” Sanji says, gesturing to the simmering pan. “You just needed a little more heat and patience.”

The cook snorts. “You pirates are annoyingly good at this.”

Sanji grins faintly and flicks ash into a tray.

That’s when the door opens again. A cool breeze slips in from outside.

Sanji barely notices at first. He’s turning back toward the pan when the bartender suddenly looks up and breaks into a wide smile.

“Well I’ll be damned.”

Sanji glances toward the entrance out of reflex. Someone has just stepped inside.

She pauses a moment near the door, letting it shut behind her while her eyes adjust to the warm lantern light of the pub. For a second the outside night frames her like a silhouette.

Then she steps forward.

The bartender wipes his hands on a rag and leans over the counter.

“You’re late,” he calls.

Her face brightens immediately, and she walks up to the bar with the easy familiarity of someone who has done it a hundred times before. The bartender laughs and reaches over to squeeze her shoulder.

“Thought you left town.”

“Just for a few days.”

Her gaze shifts toward the kitchen area behind the bar.

“And you’re still burning things back there, I see.”

The cook barks out a laugh.

“Only when you’re not here to complain about it.”

Sanji watches all of this from where he stands.

At first, it's casual. Just idle curiosity. Someone who clearly knows the staff. Someone comfortable here.

But then she smiles at something the bartender says.

And something in Sanji’s chest quietly… stops.

It’s not the usual reaction. Not the dramatic heart pounding, not the sudden nosebleed, not the theatrical declaration that normally follows when a beautiful woman enters the room.

Just… stillness.

Sanji stares.

The cigarette between his fingers slowly burns down unnoticed.

The bartender pours a drink without even asking and places a small plate of food in front of her.

“Same as always.”

She laughs softly. “You know me too well.”

Her attention finally shifts. She notices Sanji standing behind the bar. A stranger.

Her expression turns politely curious.

“Oh,” she says, glancing between him and the cook. “Did you finally hire help?”

The cook gestures lazily toward Sanji.

“Guest chef. Show-off pirate.”

Sanji should say something.

Normally, he would already be leaning forward, smiling charmingly.

My beautiful lady, allow me to introduce myself—

The words sit ready in his head.

But when she looks directly at him... He forgets them. Completely. For half a second he just stands there. Blinking.

“…Ah.”

Brilliant. Smooth.

Sanji clears his throat quickly and straightens, suddenly very aware of his posture, the flour on his sleeve, the cigarette between his fingers.

“I— uh—”

Why are words difficult all of a sudden?

“I was helping with the kitchen.”

The sentence comes out stiff. Awkward.

The bartender squints at him. That was… not what he expected.

She tilts her head slightly, studying him with quiet interest.

“Are you the one who fixed the sauce?” she asks.

Sanji blinks again.

“…Yes.”

Her eyes light up.

“That was you?”

She looks genuinely impressed.

“I thought something tasted different tonight.”

Sanji’s brain short-circuits. She noticed. Of course she noticed. Why is that suddenly the most important thing in the world?

“Oh, it was nothing,” he says quickly, glancing away for a moment and rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a small adjustment.”

The cook nearly chokes.

Nothing?

Sanji never calls his cooking nothing.

She smiles warmly.

“Well… it was really good.”

Sanji feels heat climb up the back of his neck. He takes a quick drag of his cigarette just to have something to do.

Across the room, Zoro notices.

“…Oi.”

Usopp follows his gaze.

“What?”

Zoro jerks his chin toward the bar.

Sanji is standing completely still, staring at the woman like he forgot how to exist.

Usopp squints.

“Why isn’t he flirting?”

Nami glances over too.

Sanji finally remembers himself.

Right... flirting. That’s a thing he does. He turns back toward her quickly.

“My lady, if you’d like, I could—”

He stops. The line collapses halfway out of his mouth.

Why does this feel different? Why does he suddenly feel like a teenager trying to talk for the first time?

“…cook something for you.”

That’s it. That’s the best he can do.

She smiles again, softer this time.

“I’d like that.”

Sanji looks like someone just handed him a treasure chest.

“Ah.”

He spins around immediately, grabbing a pan.

“Of course.”

The cook watches him silently for a moment. Then leans toward the bartender.

“…Your friend just broke the pirate.”

The bartender grins. Across the room, Zoro takes another drink.

“…He’s doomed.”

Sanji moves like a man on a mission. Or a man trying very hard not to look like he’s panicking.

The pan hits the stove a little harder than usual. Oil, heat, quick, practiced movements.

Normally, cooking for a woman is an event for Sanji. There would be poetry. Compliments. Dramatic declarations about the beauty before him inspiring the dish.

Right now? He’s quiet, focused. Almost… careful.

Behind him, the bartender slides the drink across the counter. She takes a sip and leans her elbows on the bar, watching with open curiosity.

“You staying in town long?” she asks.

Sanji nearly drops the knife.

“No—!” Too loud. He clears his throat.

“…No. I’m just visiting. We leave tomorrow.”

The cook snorts quietly.

She nods, accepting the answer easily.

Sanji risks a glance over his shoulder. She’s relaxed. Comfortable. Like she belongs here. Like this bar is home. Something warm settles in his chest.

He turns back to the pan before she catches him staring again.

Across the room, Usopp is halfway standing on his chair.

“THIS IS A HISTORICAL EVENT.”

Nami yanks him down.

“Sit.”

“But he didn’t even call her an angel!”

Zoro watches quietly, elbow on the table, sake bottle in hand.

“…He hasn’t blinked in five minutes.”

Luffy is chewing loudly.

Back at the bar, Sanji slides food onto a plate with practiced precision. It’s simple, perfectly balanced.

He wipes the edge of the plate automatically before setting it down in front of her.

“…Here.”

She glances down at the plate, then back up at him.

“You made that fast.”

Sanji shrugs lightly, trying to appear casual.

“I cook for a living.”

She picks up the fork and takes a bite. Sanji watches. He tries not to, but he does.

Her expression shifts immediately. Not exaggerated, not dramatic, but surprised. Her eyes soften slightly as she chews.

Then she laughs quietly.

“Okay.”

Sanji freezes.

“That’s really good.”

He feels the words land somewhere deep in his chest. It’s a compliment. Sanji has heard thousands of compliments about his cooking. But something about this one, it feels different. Real.

He exhales slowly and lights another cigarette.

“…I’m glad.”

She takes another bite. Then glances toward the chaotic Straw Hat table.

“That your crew?”

Sanji follows her gaze.

Luffy is currently trying to steal food from Zoro’s plate. Zoro is attempting murder. Usopp is narrating the fight like a sports commentator.

Sanji sighs. “…Unfortunately.”

She laughs, and it’s such an easy, genuine sound that Sanji forgets to breathe for a second. She looks back at him.

Then the bartender leans in.

“So,” he says loudly, clearly enjoying this, “you going to introduce yourself to my friend, pirate?”

Sanji straightens slightly. Right, that. He turns back to her.

“…Sanji.” He hesitates. Then adds more quietly, “Black Leg Sanji.”

Her eyebrows lift slightly in recognition.

“Oh.” She smiles. “I’ve heard of you.”

Sanji nearly chokes on his cigarette.

“You have?”

She nods casually. “Straw Hat crew. Cook who fights.”

Sanji blinks. Then looks strangely embarrassed.

“…That’s one way to describe me.”

She wipes her hands and offers one across the bar.

“I’m glad we met.”

Sanji stares at her hand for half a second. Then takes it carefully. Her grip is warm. Firm.

Across the room, Usopp slams both hands on the table.

“HE TOUCHED HANDS.”

Nami smacks him.

“Lower your voice!”

Zoro just drinks.

“…He’s done for.”

At the bar, Sanji slowly lets go of her hand. Something unfamiliar settles in his chest. Not panic. Not the usual infatuation. Something quieter, something deeper.

He looks at her again. Really looks this time, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a thought forms that he immediately tries to ignore.

This one’s different.

Sanji takes a slow drag from his cigarette.

Yeah…

He’s in trouble.

— 🌊 —

If you enjoyed this, reblogs are always appreciated.

#this is SO cute oh my stars #sanji #one piece rec #op rec