shai

my happy place will always be you.

[feelinmatcha]

— 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐈 𝜗𝜚｡⋆｡ ﾟ she/ her. twenty. scorpio. in love with blondes. thats it.

notices ᝰ.ᐟ

requests are open but i’m currently doing certain ones to adjust into writing

ੈ♡ art credits

masterlist 🪽

certified napper; sanji SFW

pretty like the sun; randoms SFW

it's okay, he will; alhaitham & scara SFW

oh, my darling; katsuki bakugo SFW

i love you, i'm sorry; sanji SFW

© feelinmatcha 2023

[feelinmatcha]

❛ 𝐏𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ❜

DESCRIPTION: you don't want to celebrate your birthday, but perhaps your friend(?) will change that NOTE: reader is implied to be an older sister. angst to fluff. age mention?? but you can easily take it out!! CHARACTER(S): modern! sanji & zoro 🎵: the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody

You wished you could care more about it. Truly. But birthdays stopped being special a long time ago. And now they felt like something you'd outgrown, like a shirt that once fit and no longer did.

When Nami asked about it over breakfast, her voice so casual as she asked when you'd be celebrating, it was like the entire room froze around you. The others were watching, forks paused mid-air, and you felt yourself retreat inward, pulling your arms around yourself as if you could make yourself disappear. "It doesn’t matter," you mumbled, but you could feel the weight of their stares even after you said it.

You tried to remember when you stopped caring, tried to pinpoint the exact year birthdays turned hollow. Maybe it was the year your parents stopped lighting candles and making cakes, reserving that fuss for your younger siblings, who still had reason to smile as they counted the candles. Or maybe it was the year your stepsister—just a few months older—received a thoughtful gift and the whole family gathered around her, while you spent the better part of your own day staring at the phone, waiting for your mom to call. She finally did, hours later, voice muffled by kitchen sounds, explaining that she’d been busy with pastry orders and barely managed a quick “Happy Birthday.”

And you wanted to be okay with it. You really did. You told yourself she was doing her best, that she had her own life, her own dreams, that maybe it was selfish to want more.

But later that night, alone in your room, you finally picked up the phone and left her a voicemail, your voice thick and breaking. “Hey, Mom. I tried calling you earlier. Guess you’re busy right now. Just wanted to tell you… remember that test I was stressing about? I got an eighty-one. Not perfect, but it’s something.”

You stared at the screen for a long time after hanging up, waiting for the pang to settle. Twenty-one years old, but somehow you felt twice that. You wondered if birthdays would feel different if you’d already moved out, if you had your own house, your own kids. Maybe then she’d remember, maybe then she’d care.

The ache returned, and you swiped the back of your hand across your eyes, furious at yourself. Why couldn’t you be stronger? Why couldn’t you stop hoping?

Eventually, another year came around, and with it, the dreaded day. You were thankful Nami hadn’t brought it up again, not since that morning at breakfast. She must’ve seen the look in your eyes, the way your voice cracked just enough when you’d admitted you didn’t take pleasure in celebrating it anymore. She hadn’t pushed, and for that, you were grateful. For that, you felt a little less alone.

roronoa zoro

The kitchen lights buzzed to life, casting a warm glow over the counters stacked with groceries. A couple of tomatoes, three fresh baguettes, too many leafy greens for one person—all evidence of Sanji’s over-the-top attempt to “share” his food with Nami. You could almost hear him explaining it to her, claiming he’d bought too much for the week. But you knew better. You knew he’d counted on her taking it, on feeding her like she wouldn’t feed herself, and the thought made you grin, sifting through the bags with a growing smile.

“Eggplant, garlic, rosemary,” you muttered, almost impressed by how thoughtful it all was. Everything was fresh, carefully chosen, perfect for the recipes he’d probably rattled off to Nami before he left. But still, the faint lingering scent of his cologne—the one he seemed to think was charming but always hit your nose like a cloud of spiced ash—hung in the air.

You set a bottle of olive oil on the counter, catching your reflection in the glass. There was something about today, the weight of it pressing a little harder as you remembered it was your birthday. You hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t wanted to, but it felt like the knowledge was there, lurking, like a reminder you were determined to ignore.

The door down the hall creaked open, followed by the soft thud of it closing and heavy footsteps coming closer. Zoro’s voice rang out, gruff and tinged with irritation, “I can smell Sanji’s disgusting perfume. Did he come here?”

Flipping on the kitchen light, you turned and stifled a grin as Zoro appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, his nose wrinkled in mock disgust. He looked every bit the part of the annoyed rival, his hair damp from training, shirt rumpled as he leaned against the frame, eyeing the bags on the counter with open disdain.

“Yeah, he was just here,” you said, glancing up as Zoro stepped into the light, his nose crinkling in mock disgust. “But I think he left enough rosemary in here to mask the smell. Unless you’re that sensitive?”

“Sensitive?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. “It’s just hard to breathe when that walking cologne cloud’s been around. How many tomatoes does he think Nami needs, anyway?”

You shrugged, picking up one of the tomatoes and tossing it his way. He caught it with a smirk. “Sanji just wants to make sure she's fed.”

“Please,” Zoro snorted, turning the tomato over in his hands before placing it back on the counter. “Does he really think Nami can’t feed herself? Or did he just want an excuse to show off?”

“You know him. Probably both,” you said, leaning back against the counter, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched him. Zoro’s presence filled the room in a way you couldn’t quite explain—steady, calm, a quiet sort of reassurance that reminded you there was no need to feel alone.

You found yourself letting out a sigh, the kind that comes when you’ve been carrying a weight around for too long. Zoro’s gaze flickered over you, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Something wrong?”

For a second, you thought about brushing it off. But the way Zoro looked at you—sharp but somehow softened by a quiet understanding—made it hard to lie. It was as if he could see through any mask you tried to put on.

“Just… thinking,” you murmured, glancing down at the bags Sanji had left behind. “Birthdays, you know? Nami brought it up the other year, and it kind of stirred things up.”

Zoro’s face shifted, his usual hardness melting away as he took you in, tilting his head a little. “Didn’t know it was your birthday,” he said quietly, his voice steady, free of pity or fuss.

“It wasn't... it's today, actually,” you admitted, the words feeling heavier than you’d expected. “It's fine, I just… stopped celebrating it a while back.”

He didn’t press, but his gaze was unwavering, his arms still folded as he leaned a little closer, his posture saying he was there, that he was listening.

“Why did you stop?” he asked finally, his tone calm, as if he were inviting you to share without any pressure.

You took a slow breath, the ache you’d been holding onto all day surfacing. “I guess… it just stopped feeling like my day,” you said, each word weighing you down a little more. “It was always about someone else, something else. Eventually, it felt easier to just… ignore it. Less disappointment that way.”

He didn’t break eye contact, his expression unreadable yet somehow gentle, as if he were waiting for you to finish, giving you room to feel everything out loud.

“Makes sense,” he said after a beat, his tone soft, thoughtful. “But… maybe you’re looking at it wrong.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the insight. “Oh yeah? How so?”

He shrugged, his gaze drifting briefly over the countertop before coming back to yours. “Maybe birthdays don’t have to be about other people making it special. Could just be about you doing something you actually want to do. Doesn’t have to be a party or some grand gesture. Could be as simple as sitting around eating these tomatoes if that’s what makes you happy.”

The simplicity of it caught you off guard. You’d thought of birthdays as a day that had to mean something because other people made it that way. But maybe Zoro was right. Maybe the day didn’t have to be a spectacle; maybe it could be quiet, even small, and still feel like yours.

“Maybe…” you murmured, feeling a small, tentative smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe today I’ll just take it easy, let myself have that. Not stress about what it’s supposed to be.”

Zoro’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile. “That’s the spirit.”

You both stood in comfortable silence, his steady presence taking up space in a way that felt grounding, safe. He glanced down at the bags Sanji had left, his smirk returning as he let out a soft chuckle.

“Now, let’s figure out what to make out of Sanji’s mountain of produce before it goes to waste. Who knows—could end up being the best ‘birthday dinner’ you’ve had in years,” he added with a teasing grin.

You laughed, the sound soft and light. And as you started unpacking the groceries, working side by side with Zoro, the day felt different, lighter. No big party, no expectations—just a quiet moment, one you could claim as your own.

black leg sanji

Sanji had been over at your apartment last night, like he often was on weekends. He’d practically taken over the kitchen, turning the small space into his own personal cooking studio, filling it with warmth and the scent of roasted herbs and spices. It was cozy, cramped, and packed with the kind of laughter that spilled out of the windows and into the autumn air outside. He’d left around midnight, making his usual theatrical exit, waving his hand with a smirk, promising he’d be back to “save you and Nami from culinary catastrophe” as he dramatically put it.

When you’d come back to the kitchen to grab some water, there it was on the counter: a small white envelope with your name written on it in his signature, neat handwriting. There was no address, no note outside, just your name.

You took the envelope to your room and opened it, heart skipping a beat as you unfolded the note.

“Hey, you,” it began, simple but with his effortless charm. “I didn’t want to say this with everyone around, but tomorrow’s your birthday, right? You probably won’t want to make a fuss, but I thought maybe I could do a little something to make it a day you’ll remember. Meet me at the coffee shop by the library at noon, if you’re up for it.”

When morning arrived, you found yourself a little more excited than you’d expected. Noon couldn’t come fast enough. You made your way to the small coffee shop tucked along the edge of campus, right beside the library, where trees were shedding leaves in a blanket of amber and red. The café itself was a quaint, narrow little place with warm brick walls, a black-and-white tiled floor, and wooden tables spread under strings of fairy lights. It had that cozy, old-world feel that made you want to curl up in one of its soft leather booths and lose track of time.

You found him immediately. Sanji was leaning against a table near the front window, gazing outside, lost in thought. The soft autumn light filtered through the glass, casting a warm glow over him, and when he turned, catching sight of you, a genuine smile broke across his face. He walked over, dressed in his usual dark button-down and black slacks, looking completely at ease despite the bustle of students around him.

“There you are,” he greeted you, his tone gentle as he took your hand, leading you to the table he’d reserved. His eyes flickered over you with a softness that made your heart race.

On the table sat a small, carefully frosted cake—something he’d clearly made himself. A single, delicate candle was nestled in the frosting, and beside it, a small bouquet of wildflowers sat in a mason jar, the bright petals adding a splash of color against the warm browns and reds of the café’s decor.

“It’s not much,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with a slightly sheepish smile, “but I thought you deserved something that was just for you. Hope you don’t mind me commandeering your birthday a little.”

You took a seat across from him, feeling the coziness of the café wrap around you, like a small world set apart just for this moment. There was something quietly magical about it all, something you hadn’t felt in a long time—an unexpected warmth that went straight to your heart.

Sanji cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Close your eyes,” he said, a hint of that usual playfulness back in his tone. “I’ll light the candle.”

You closed your eyes, listening to the soft flick of his lighter and feeling the glow of warmth as he leaned in to light the candle. When you opened your eyes, he was watching you, a gentle smile on his face, his eyes reflecting the candle’s flickering light.

“Make a wish,” he murmured, voice low and intent.

The café faded away, the distant hum of conversation and clinking of cups disappearing as you focused on that single, flickering flame. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself, for the first time in a long time, to make a wish. And when you opened them, he was still there, watching you, as if he could read exactly what was in your heart.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, his voice warm and sure, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You leaned forward, blowing out the candle, the quiet applause of the flame fading into the room’s ambient light. The scent of vanilla and warm frosting filled the air, mixing with the comforting smell of coffee and the rich, earthy tones of autumn that drifted in from the open window. You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest you hadn’t realized you missed, a feeling of being seen, of being cherished, if only for a moment.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you murmured, unable to keep the gratefulness from your voice.

He smiled, his fingers brushing yours across the table, his touch light but reassuring. “It’s nothing. Besides, you have a lot of birthdays to make up for.”

[feelinmatcha]

❛ 𝐎𝐇, 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 ❜

SYNOPSIS: you're in a relationship with bakugou katsuki WARNINGS: tooth-rotting fluff 🎵: mr loverman by ricky montgomery

whether you're a stay-at-home mother, wife, or girlfriend-- or working a 9 to 5-- he sends you a text in the middle of his patrol asking if you've eaten anything for lunch yet. if you did, he'll ask what and if it was healthy or not. if you didn't? he's wiring money to your phone in the next 3 seconds even if you say you had it handled

he doesn't really forget his lunch, ever, but on the off chance that you find it still sitting on the kitchen table-- it's on purpose and you find yourself in his office scolding a cheeky katsuki

he often asks you, with a scowl, "are you giving me a kiss before i leave or what?"

if you lose something, he knows where it is. it's like second nature at this point. "babe, have you seen the remote?" he's already lifting the cushions underneath you

you notice the different sighs he lets out. you could already tell if he's genuinely angry, upset, sad, or even adoring you

you litter kisses along his beauty marks, freckles, tiny scars, and even those spots of discoloration

if you listen to sad music one evening and he's present? he's turning that off!! immediately!!

when you call him your "lover man" he gets so unbelievably warm under his clothes to the point where he's able to feel a bead of sweat run down his spine. he's flushed red, hands clammy, and he's throwing affectionate curses at you from the door because he was leaving for his night patrol. once the chilly air hits his cheeks, he lets out a breath he's been holding and doesn't miss the feeling of his lips quirking up. yeah, he's your lover man. kiri will be sending you a text in the next hour asking if you've done something to katsuki because he's been in a weirdly good mood.

your contact name for him as teens was bakublow and now its lover with an orange heart emoji

his contact name for you as teens was simply your last name and now its wife <3 (you did it as a prank, he blew red, and you told him you'd change it back but he was awfully persistent in not letting you touch it anymore)

when shopping for clothes, ingredients, etc. he makes it a rule to pay for everything. he makes a fuss about it, sure, but he'll yank you away from the register if you so much as stare at the cashier for far too long

at night, when his phone dings and he's busy shaving his beard in the bathroom, he calls out for you to see who it is. you have to tease him to say please. it's either work-related, spam, or one (or all) of the bakusquad pestering him to hop online and play a few rounds before it gets too late

he slides into bed with you and always, alwayssss gives you a forehead kiss. he doesn't forget unless he's very sleepy after an all nighter

NOTES: oh how i love him.

[feelinmatcha]

❛ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘, 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 ❜

description: your boyfriend tends to remind you that you're so easy to love. characters: alhaitham + scaramouche (wanderer) a/n: had this idea brewing in my drafts and decided to finish it off ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

"no, i'm not buying a book from a genre i don't even like."

that's okay, alhaitham will.

actually, the idea of giving you your own bookshelf would already be on his mind as soon as you've successfully moved in with him and kaveh. the only catch? kaveh insists that he builds it himself as a gift.

alhaitham subtly asks you of your favorite wood one evening in the kitchen over a heavy discussion of zaytun peaches that kaveh was supposed to buy earlier that morning. trust me, he already knows which wood you'd absolutely adore, but he took the precaution of asking once again just in case as he'd be quite perturbed that his plan didn't work out in the end like he intended. he wanted it to cater to you, not anyone else.

the topic drifted from zaytun peaches to the week's trending romance novel that you had finished reading a few days ago.

"haitham, you should put this on your to-be-read list!"

"really? what's the appeal, love?"

listen guys and girls, he wants to know why you'd recommend it to him!!!

give him every little detail on why!! you want him!!! out of all people!! to read it!!!

he really just wants to hear you talk about what you find interesting.

contrary to popular belief, he doesn't hate the romance genre. he just finds it... meaningless to read? the last time he gave it a try, there was no actual knowledge in it. just fictional love between fictional characters.

but of course, he would consider it if you were to suggest something. especially if the book has you running laps around the bedroom.

so he sets out on to the nearest bookstore when he's on his 'break' and purchases the same copy you had.

you're DISCOMBOBULATED. BAFFLED.

that night you two would be in bed, settling down for the night, and he whips it out-- his fingers spreads the pages near the ending of the book and he begins reading.

"babe... why are you reading my book?"

"no, it's my book. i bought my own so you wouldn't complain about me creasing the spine."

"but why'd you buy one?"

he side-eyes you, "you suggested the book."

"but i didn't think you'd actually... you didn't have to. i know you aren't fond of--"

"i'm fond of you, and that's enough."

"no, i don't want you starting a commotion here in public."

that's okay, scaramouche will.

he loves you with his entire heart, body, and soul.

if someone stares at you weirdly? they're already being glared down by him. if a salesperson says anything about your attire, your hair (or the absense of it), or your skin-- he's throwing himself across the stall and grabbing their shirt to bring them closer to you.

he makes them apologize.

a woman, a man, an elder, a kid-- doesn't matter. as long as they got a mouth that can yap, he's gonna shut it.

your friends would let what people say to you slide, but he won't.

it's bad enough that he feels as if he doesn't deserve you so when you start thinking of yourself as someone whose less than even the dirt and cement beneath your feet, he's angry at everyone else for letting it get this far.

"what are you talking about? they insulted you and you stood there and took it!"

you don't want to feel like a burden, like someone whose always in need of being protected.

"i'm not your friend, i'm your partner," he grits. "it's what i'm supposed to do, you idiot."

really, it's just the ideal of protecting you that's instilled within his puppet body.

poor baby does not know an ounce of romance yet he said that line so effortlessly and in a way that had you choking on your next words.

as you cling to his bicep on the dirt road, you thank him. profusely. he finds it a bit annoying.

"you need to get better friends." is all he says.

he knew what loyalty was. he practically would get on his knees for it, too. he constantly looked for that in a partner, and you had answered.

he knew loyalty was needed in friendships, as well as relationships. especially relationships.

so it unsettled him when he heard that your so-called friends brushed off the verbal assaults directed to you and had the audacity to then say: "just smile and don't let it get to you"

it wouldn't be the first he's done this and it certainly won't be the last, and that's okay.

he wants to enjoy the smiles, laughs, and jokes you end up sharing with him all in an attempt to calm him down but he's already been calm. he's always found himself significantly calm around you, whether he admits it or not.

"come on, let's go home."

© 2024 feelinmatcha

[feelinmatcha]

❛ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 ❜

mentions: self deprecation, gn! reader, sobbing, angst?? word count: 185 inspired off of black friday by tom odell

sometimes, you wished you were better.

you wanted a pretty face, a decent amount of fat on your body instead of too much, and no acne scars that undoubtedly made everyone stare at your face for a second longer. the dread you feel when getting up from your bed, already wanting to itch and peel at your skin because of how much you despised it.

but he would pull you closer, cradle you in his bigger arms, and whisper that you were already better than anyone. you were his type of pretty, wasn't that enough?

the kisses he would litter on the apple of your cheeks would feel heavenly but the pit in your stomach still caved in on itself. you oh-so wanted to believe every word but you felt ugly and ashamed of yourself in every possible way and all you could do was cry on the bathroom floor as he waited on the other side of the door, every second of your stuttering sobs shattering his heart into pieces.

in his eyes, you were pretty like the sun.

yet you wouldn't allow yourself to stray that close to one.

─ (jjk) nanami, itadori, (hk) hinata, kuroo, iwaizumi, matsukawa, bokuto, atsumu or osamu, akaashi, kageyama, kenma, tsukishima, daichi, sugawara, ASAHI (op) SANJI, zoro, usopp, trafalgar law, luffy (gi) neuvillette, wriothesley, zhongli, ITTO, DILUC, cyno, tighnari, KAZUHA, aether, alhaitham, thoma, xiao, (dc) jason todd, dick grayson, tim drake, AND ANY OF YOUR FAVS!!

authors note: i would have wrote a lot more if it wasn't almost one in the morning TT sorry everyone!!

borders: saradika

© feelinmatcha 2023

[feelinmatcha]

❛ 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ❜

warnings: opla episode 5 spoilers, brief (very brief) mention of sanji's smoking habit, reader's unhealthy sleeping and eating schedule but its not too descriptive pairing: sanji x implied fem! reader word count: 700+

sanji ༊*·˚

after travelling through the fog and arriving at the infamous baratie, you could almost feel your eyelids droop heavily

when you and the rest of the crew were seated, you cuddled up next to nami's side and told them (and yourself) that you'll just be resting your eyes

nobody told you that the waiter had come to take your orders

poor man was staring right at you, almost appalled

probably a bit endeared, too

"is she alright?"

"oh, she does that sometimes" literally shut your mouth usopp

"coffee for you, then, madam?"

its a whole different story when he officially joins the crew

at first, he worries you had fallen overboard and calls for the rest of the crew

zoro has to tell him where you are and what you're doing

audibly sighs in relief

when months pass by, his presence slowly begins to mix in with yours

constant check-ups if you've missed breakfast, lunch, dinner, or even snack time

when he finds you, he sets down the beverage or plate of food and watches you for a moment longer before leaving

eventually, you'll start telling him where you'll be under the guise that he shouldn't worry himself by seeking you out

"but that's the fun part of it, darling."

he pairs it with a cheeky little smirk and wink

in general, he always serves you coffee AND whatever beverage with your breakfast and lunch meals

says no if its far too late in the afternoon

maybe if you beg hard enough he'll cave, and he certainly does

he joins you for a cup of coffee even though its six in the afternoon

it starts escalating to where he'll pick you up from your current napping spot and transfer you over to yours and nami's shared sleeping cabin

so, so gentle with handling you

will whisper sweet praises under his breathe

when nami shares that a particularly rough storm is gonna hit later in the evening, sanji's immediately going to you

"sorry, love. it's the navigator's orders."

"we don't have a proper doctor yet, it would be bad if your immune system shut down when we're in the middle of nowhere."

adds in, "though, i wouldn't be opposed to nursing you back to health."

the crew notices it, enemies notices it, heck even the birds notices how sanji takes care of you

also, pretty boy really loves looking at you when you're at your most vulnerable

"hey sanji, you've got a little something on your eye."

poor boy jokingly gets called a creep by usopp at least once a day

when you're on your third nap of the day, sanji literally has to sit you down in one of the kitchen chairs

"stay put and don't fall asleep, please."

now as much as he would think this habit is cute, he also knows that it's a bit unhealthy

especially if you aren't eating enough and is peculiarly tired all the time

he tries to get you on a loose sleeping schedule

nothing really strict yet, because he knows how hard it is to change a habit

cough his smoking cough

"take it easy, love, it's only been a week since we started."

we. we as in you and him. we as in he is in this with you even though he doesn't have anything to do with your bad sleeping habit.

the very thought makes you swoon

it certainly takes a while and you're a bit surprised he hasn't yelled at you out of frustration

but when you find yourself still having the energy after doing minuscule stuff that would have you growing tired by the second

you just had to tell him all about it

"... and you know, sanji, i don't feel tired at all! winded, yes, but not fatigued."

"really?" he inquires from his spot, eyes flickering up to look at you.

he stopped chopping, only a brief second, before he continued on

"i'm so proud of you, my love."

his love.

whatever the two of you were was up in the air, up for debate

but honestly? it didn't matter to you

official or not, it still made your insides warm

and as much as you used to love naps, you loved his dedication to you more

notes: gee im not too fond of using "v*nsm*ke" as sanji's last name, hence the absence of it in my tags and post. a tag list is in the works as well as an ask box!! feedback, comments, and reblogs are all greatly welcomed!

borders are by saradika

© feelinmatcha 2023