Ok thank you for taking my requests!! Youre so so sweet and your writing makes me super happy inside hehe! I have one more early mornings if thats ok! Id like Roger, young Gaban and Young Rayleigh! If you cant do some of the characters feel free to pick your own! Thank you so so much!!! ☺️
𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚁𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑, 𝙶𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜
The cabin door slams open with a bang that rattles the hinges, and you jolt awake, your heart hammering against your ribs. Before you can even process the time, Roger is looming over the bed, his silhouette blocking out the pale morning light. He looks like a man possessed, vibrating with an energy that has no business existing at such an ungodly hour.
"Up! Up, right now!" he bellows, grabbing the edge of the heavy quilt and ripping it off the bed in one smooth motion, leaving you exposed to the chill of the cabin. "You’re missing the best part! The horizon is turning purple—it looks like the ocean is bleeding into the sky!"
You groan, curling into a tight ball in a futile attempt to preserve your body heat, and crack one eye open. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning like he’s already found the One Piece, his nightshirt undone and flapping around him.
"Roger," you croak, your voice raspy with sleep. "It’s dawn. The sun rises every single day. It will happen again tomorrow."
"That’s not the point!" He laughs, reaching down to grab your wrists and pull you upright. You stumble, legs heavy with sleep, and he catches you, steadying you with hands that are rough and calloused but gentle on your skin. He drags you over to the porthole, pointing out at the endless grey and pink expanse of the sea. "Look at that! It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?"
You shiver, leaning back against his chest for warmth, letting him support your weight as you squint at the ocean. It is pretty, you’ll give him that, but the allure is significantly diminished by the fact that you are standing on cold wood planks without a stitch of warm clothing.
"You’re impossible," you mutter, tilting your head back to look up at him. He looks down at you, his dark eyes crinkled with mirth and absolute adoration. "Did I marry a toddler or the King of the Pirates?"
Roger barks out a laugh, loud and unapologetic, that surely wakes the crew in the next cabin over. He wraps his arms tighter around you, engulfing you in his heat. "Why not both?" he winks, pressing a loud, obnoxious kiss to your temple. "I can conquer the seas and throw tantrums if you don’t watch the sunrise with me." He rests his chin on top of your head, swaying you slightly. "Besides, the King needs his Queen to see the world with him. Even if she is grumpy."
The first thing you’re aware of is the heat. It’s a heavy, cocooning warmth that makes you never want to open your eyes again. You’re lying halfway on top of Rayleigh’s chest, your leg tangled with his, listening to the steady, rhythmic thud of his heart. It’s peaceful, the sort of quiet morning haze that is rare on a ship full of rowdy pirates.
But you’re awake now, and nature is calling.
You try to shift your weight, lifting your head carefully to see if you can slide out from under his arm without disturbing him. Rayleigh is usually a light sleeper—a necessity in his line of work—but this morning, he seems dead to the world. You inch your leg away, trying to detangle your limbs from his long, muscular ones.
You manage to get one foot onto the floor, the cold wood shocking your system, and you prepare to make the great escape. But just as you start to lift his arm off your waist, it tightens. It’s not a sudden movement, but a slow, deliberate drag, pulling you back down and trapping you against his side. You let out a huff of air, looking up to find his eyes still closed, his breathing even, but a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Where are you going?" he mumbles, his voice a deep, raspy timber that vibrates through your back.
"Bathroom," you whisper, trying to pry his fingers away from your hip. "Let go, Rayleigh."
"No." He breathes out the word like it’s a physical effort to speak. He shifts, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his nose cold against your warm skin but his breath hot. "You’re too far away already."
"I’m literally right on top of you," you argue, though you lack any real conviction. You try to leverage your weight against him, pushing at his shoulder to create a gap. "Come on, let me up."
He grunts, a low sound of protest deep in his chest, and suddenly you’re moving. With a strength that always catches you off guard, he rolls, pinning you beneath him. He settles his weight between your legs, propping himself up on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you, but effectively ending your hopes of leaving the bed anytime soon.
His hair is a black curtain around your faces, shielding you from the morning light filtering through the porthole. He looks down at you, his dark eyes hooded and full of sleepy affection.
"Nowhere to go," he murmurs, dipping his head to trail slow, lazy kisses along your jawline. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Stay. Just for a little longer. The crew can handle themselves."
He captures your lips in a kiss that is slow and decadent, tasting of sleep and the lingering flavor of the rum he had last night. It’s a lazy, commanding kiss that melts your resolve instantly. When he finally pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, you know you aren't going anywhere.
"Okay?" he whispers, his eyes searching yours.
"Okay," you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back down.
You wake up to the smell of food—specifically, the sweet scent of sliced mango and the savory aroma of smoked meat. For a moment, you just lie there, basking in the smell, until the sound of heavy breathing reaches your ears. You crack one eye open and see Gaban kneeling on the floor beside the bed, shirtless and glistening with a thin layer of sweat. He’s doing dips using the edge of your mattress, his triceps bulging every time he lowers himself down. Every time he pushes up, the bed bounces slightly.
"Are you serious?" you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "You’re lifting the bed?"
Gaban stops, mid-dip, and grins up at you, his teeth white and bright against his tanned skin. "Morning exercises!" he chirps, way too energetically. He pops up from the floor and wipes his hands on his pants, then leans over you, bracing his hands on either side of your head. "Keeps the blood pumping. You should try it."
"I hate you," you groan, pulling the pillow over your face to block out the sight of his cheerful morning face. "Go sweat somewhere else."
"Aw, don't be like that." He laughs, gently prying the pillow away from your face. His expression softens, the teasing grin giving way to something warmer. He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "I didn't wake you up, I swear. You woke up on your own."
"Because you're making my bed vibrate," you retort, but you can’t help but lean into his touch. His hand is warm and rough, grounding you.
"I brought presents," he says, nodding toward the small table where he’s set up an impromptu breakfast. "Stole some fruit from the cook’s stash before anyone else could get to it."
You look at the spread—it’s simple, but he’s arranged it almost carelessly, trying to make it look nice. It’s endearing. You look back at him, and he’s watching you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. Before you can say anything, he leans down and kisses you. It’s not the rough, hasty kiss of a pirate rushing to the next battle, but something slow and thorough. He tastes like the sea and mint.
He pulls back after a long moment, resting his forehead against yours. "I wanted to make sure you ate before the chaos starts," he says quietly, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Captain’s got us moving out today. Hard work."
You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down for another kiss, deeper this time. When you break apart, he’s smiling, his eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Alright," you whisper against his lips. "Feed me, then. But if you try to make me do push-ups, I’m throwing you overboard."
Gaban laughs, bright and happy, and reaches over to grab a slice of mango. "Deal."
