Join Them Micheal, You Won’t Regret It

literally anyone: what is this place

Dean: welcome to my mojo dojo casa house

Hey. Could you please do a Winchester!sister reader fic like the mystery spot episode where Dean dies over and over but can you have the reader be the one who dies over and over again while the boys watch

Groundhog Day

Note: Once again apologising for my lateness but here we are! I actually also wrote this yesterday but I thought it was only fitting to release this on a Tuesday.

warnings: death *and lots of it, It's mystery spot*, grief kinda, time loops, swearing.

Word count: 3.5k

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother who was surprisingly already up and raring to go, having made his bed which he was now perching on as he laced together his boots. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep.

“Rise and shine, Sammy.”

“Dude.” Sam blinked, swiping his hair from his eyes. “Asia?”

“Come on. You love this song and you know it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, and if i hear it again, I’m going to kill myself.”

“Be quiet.” You murmured from behind the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling over. You knew it wasn’t going to happen but you were trying to cling onto the idea of getting more than 4 hours of sleep for once. 

Dean took a break from trying his shoes to reach over and turn the dial on the radio. The song blasted louder from the speakers. He raised his voice with a grin “What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”

Sam let out a light chuckle, still bleary with sleep as you sighed and sat up. Dean was still grinning at you before he began to mouth along to the words of the song. You shook your head at him before hauling yourself up and making your way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

~

Dean had decided that he was going to be annoying today. You weren’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to go on the hunt and he was trying to delay it or something or if it was simply because he was being Dean. You decided on the latter because his keenness to be up and ready this morning was unusual. It started with the gurgling when he was brushing his teeth. Then, just as the three of you were about to leave, despite being up before either of you he had forgotten his pistol leaving you and your other brother standing impatiently by the door while he rooted around the motel room for it. He was irritating in the car too and you were itching to jump out of the Impala, praying for the day to end. 

The diner was hardly busy when Dean pulled into the driveway. There were only a few cars belonging to passers by occupying the spaces. After securing your pistol in the pocket of your jacket the three of you headed inside. You decided to stick close to Sam; you had an odd feeling about this hunt and weren’t entirely sure what it was but something just wasn’t sitting right with you. Your brothers entered one of the booths and you slid down beside Dean who let out a content sigh as he scanned the menu. 

“Hey, tuesday. Pig in a poke.” he read, gesturing to the sign.

“Do you even know what that is?” Sam raised an eyebrow. 

The eldest brother opened his mouth to answer only to fall short of his words. Sam gave him a smug look and then pair fell into some sort of childish bickering that you weren’t really paying attention to. You were too busy scanning every inch of the room still unable to shake that uneasy feeling from your mind. Something just wasn’t right. Everything seems so…perfect. It made your skin crawl and you bit your lip.

“Hey.” Sam nudged you under the table with his knee, he had noted the way that you had gone silent and that you were fiddling with your hands restlessly. He knew almost straight away that something was up. You twisted to face him. “You okay?”

“Yeah. yeah.” You muttered. “Sorry.”

You nearly let out a sigh of relief when the waitress came over and distracted your brother's attention away from you. You hated the way that they stared when they were concerned about you. The three of you rattled off your orders before Dean leaned back in the chair, stretching his arm back behind you to lounge about as you all discussed the plan, only interrupted once by the waitress bringing your food and accidentally spilling a bottle of hot sauce which tumbled to the floor and smashed into tiny pieces.

The rest of the day passed by quickly after that.

~

You did not like the look of the so-called ‘mystery spot’. It was all overly commercialised, filled to the brim with strange and amusing objects that stuck out at odd angles or were glued to the ceiling. The darkness of the room mixed with the obscurity of the place made it come across as quite disorientating. You supposed that was the point. Your strange feeling from this morning was still lingering. You and Dean moved around with flashlights as Sam waved around the EMF. But it was silent. 

“Find anything?” You asked.

Sam shook his head.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” Dean said rather loudly. He was still set on the idea that this hunt was a complete waste of time and had decided to make it everyone else's problem. 

“Uh… yeah.” Sam shrugged until you gave him a look and he dropped his shoulders. “No.”

It wasn’t long after you set off to explore again that Dean’s gun was being cocked. Somehow someone had managed to catch you off guard, causing the three of you to whip around alarmed when his shaky voice boomed through the room. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He demanded. The man was small and scrawny and would normally be no match against Winchesters, but he was wielding a gun that he didn’t seem to know how to use and his unstable finger was hovering dangerously close to the trigger. 

“Woah. We can explain.” Dean started, raising his gun in surrender and gesturing for the two of you to follow suit. 

The man moved his weapon uncertainly. “You robbing me?”

“No.” You told him. “Nobody’s robbing you, calm down.”

Dean began to lower his gun, but this only wound the man up more.

“Don’t move!” He demanded. “Don’t!”

“I’m just putting the gun down.” Dean tried to reassure him, but the man was having none of it. 

He raised his gun, but before he fired he spotted you moving out of the corner of his eye. 

Sam, as worrying of a brother as ever, gestured with a tilt of his head for you to move toward him. He knew that you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but it made him feel ten times better to know that you were hidden behind his lumbering frame, especially given the recent circumstances that had resulted in so much loss between the three of you. Your movement however, combined with Dean’s haste to put down his gun startled the man and with a fast flick of his arm he had pulled the trigger. 

No one had any time to think before your pained scream filled the room. It was quick and short as the bullet lodged itself within your chest and you collapsed to the ground, writhing with an agony so intense that it made white spots dance in your vision like little stars. 

“Y/N!” Sam cried out, moving quickly to bridge the short distance to your side where you lay in pain on the cold ground. Sam slid an arm around your back as your other brother dropped to his knees next to you, hovering his hand over your chest where blood had already begun to pool through and seep into your shirt. He was frozen with terror unsure what to do at the sight of your pained expression or the way that your hands clutched feebly at the hem of Sammy’s jacket. 

“Call 911.” Sam demanded, turning to face the man who stood there white as a sheet. 

“I-I didn’t mean-” 

“Now!” Dean yelled.

You whimpered at the yelling. It cuts through your already pounding head adding to the concoction of your agony. You couldn’t see straight, couldn’t hear properly, couldn’t feel anything besides the burning fire in your chest that spread through your lungs like a disease. Your head lolled back against Sam’s arm as you began to taste metallic copper in your mouth, slowly drowning on your own blood that had filled your lungs. 

“No. No” Sam said as you writhed in his arms, glancing up bleary eyed at him. Dean pressed down firmly on the wound, and it hurt more than anything but you couldn’t bring yourself to even whine at the contact.

“Come on sweetheart.” Dean pleaded. “Not like this.”

You could see his lips moving but it sounded like he was underwater as your body began to grow numb and your vision slowly faded. You tried to blink away the spots that consumed your vision, but it was no use and your eyes ended up fluttering shut just as your ragged breaths slowed before stopping altogether until you lay morbid limp in your big brother's arms.

~

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he turned to his brother. He had been here before. He realised suddenly, but this time his older brother was not lacing his boots. Instead he was stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the space beside Sam. He felt the blankets shift around him as you tried to bury yourself into the mattress, bringing the covers over your head to try and block out some of the noise and fall back to sleep. Sam stared at you, startled. He could have sworn that just a moment ago you were-

“Rise and shine, Sammy.” Dean said, with much less enthusiasm as he had before. His little brother furrowed his brows.

“Dean…?”

“I know. Is it just me or are you getting a serious sense of deja-vu?”

He nodded in agreement. 

“Be quiet.” You murmured from behind the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut and rolling over. You knew it wasn’t going to happen but you were trying to cling onto the idea of getting more than 4 hours of sleep for once. 

The Winchesters shared a look. Man, something strange was happening and whatever it was, you clearly weren’t feeling the same thing they were. 

~

The diner was exactly the same as it had been the last time the two brothers were here. You were still looking around with the same uncertainty as you were before and you even ordered the same thing as you did before and so did Dean. Tuesday’s special. Pig in a poke.

“It’s tuesday?” He said uncertainly to himself.

You stared at him blankly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world “Yeah.”

Sam eyed you strangely and you raised a brow.

“You okay?” 

“Peachy.” He replied, leaning across the table. “Are you?”

Narrowing your eyes at the pair of boys you asked. “Okay. What’s going on with you two?”

“What?”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“You don’t…you don’t remember any of this?” Sam asked you 

“Remember what?”

“This. Today. Like it’s happened before.” Dean.

“You mean like Deja Vu?” You frowned.

“No like it’s really happened before.” Sam stressed. “If it feels like we’re living yesterday all over again.”

“Deja Vu.”

“No. Forget about that. Its-

The conversation was once again cut off by the waitress who was delivering the food. And once again she sent the hot sauce toppling. But this time, Sam caught it before it could hit the ground. 

You gave him a charismatic grin. “Nice reflexes.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that.

Your brothers were trying to explain the situation to you, while theorising themselves. It was safe to say that at first you were completely lost, but were halfway to believing them when it happened.  

The car came from nowhere, speeding around the corner. It collided harshly with your unsuspecting body sending you skidding across the asphalt. By the time your brothers had reached you, a trail of blood trickled down your face from the wounds that were opened as your skin ran across the floor. Dean nearly choked on the sight of your pained and bloodied face as he reached you but you were dead before he had even lifted you into his arms. 

And then, there it was again. That wretched song, screaming from the radio. 

‘Heat of the moment-’

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room and muttered one single phrase.

“Son of a bitch.”

The rest of the day did not pass by quickly after that. In fact, it never seemed to end. 

~

Sam was getting angry now. No. That's not really the right word to describe it. He was frustrated. Tired. Scared. Dean was angry. And growing impatient. But both of them could not bear to live another tuesday. They couldn’t bear to see you fine one second and then dying the next. They had lived through at least a hundred tuesdays, had scanned every inch of the diner, the town, the mystery spot, they had followed the people from the diner and had even tried to keep you in the motel room but no matter how hard they tried they were forced to watch you die again.

The worst part was that you were clueless.  Sam and Dean had to re-explain the ordeal to you everytime they woke up to that stupid song again, leaving you back at square one. They had lived through the day so many times that it had gotten to the point where they could both predict your sentences word for word and while it freaked you out, their patience was wearing thin. 

Until finally, something changed. Dean had asked the woman he kept bumping into to see her flyer. They finally had a lead. So, the next time Tuesday morning rolled around, they felt hopeful as they filed off the information to you. 

“When’d you get time to do all that research?” you asked through a mouthful of food.

Dean did not have the energy to answer, so he just stood, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time here.”

That was when Sam spotted it. The sticky, pink syrup sat in the dispenser next to the half eaten pancake. He frowned, stopping suddenly. When you noticed his absence you turned and asked him what was wrong.

Sam watched the man leave through the slats in the blinds. “That guy has maple syrup for the last 100 tuesdays, now all of a sudden he’s having strawberry?

“It’s a free country, Sammy. A man can’t choose his own syrup now? What have we become?”

“Not in this diner.” Sam shook his head. “Not today.”

“Nothing in this place ever changes. Ever. “ Dean told you. “Except us.”

~

The two brothers nearly lost their shit when they woke up again, but by the time they had suffered through the morning routine and had reached the diner they had come up with a plan. 

There were no conversations during breakfast. The pair left you to ponder over your own thoughts after mentioning the idea of a time loop. Any of your questions went unanswered as they stared down the man, jumping into action when he rose, pushing the stool out with an ear splitting squeal and making his way to the parking lot. 

Dean gripped the man firmly, forcing him against the fence by the scruff of his neck and silencing his protests. “We know who you are. Or should I say what?”

You watched very confused from the side.

“Oh my god-” the man begged, wide eyed. “Please don’t kill me!”

“Uh, Boys-”

“It took us a hell of a long time, but we got it.” Sam seethed. 

“What?!”

“It’s your M.O that gave you away.” He continued. “Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just deserts. Your kind loves that, don’t they?”

“Yeah. Sure. Okay! Just put the stake down!” He pleaded, side eyeing the weapon that Sam pressed to his neck. Sam refused to move.

“Sammy, maybe you should-”

“No!” He yelled at you. The tone of his voice was so unexpected for Sam that you recoiled. “There’s only one creature powerful enough to do what you’re doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops- In fact, you’d pretty much have to be a god.”

“You’d have to be a trickster.” Dean spat.

“Misters…” The man pleaded shakily with tears in his eyes “My name is Ed Coleman. My wife’s name is Amelia- I’ve got two kids! For crying out loud I sell ad space!”

“Don’t lie to me! I know what you are!” Sam shouted into his face. 

“We’ve killed one of your kind before.”

There was a heavy paused before the grey hair and wrinkles on the man before you morphed into the all familiar face of the trickster you and your brothers had run into not too long ago. 

He smirked and your brothers’ faces dropped. “Actually, you didn’t.”

“Why are you doing this? Why her!?” Sam pressed, digging the stake into his neck. 

“You’re kidding?” The trickster replied “You all tried to kill me last time. Why wouldn’t I do this? Why not make you three suffer.”

“So this is funny to you? Killing her over and over again?” Dean gritted his teeth.

“One- yes, it is fun. And two -this is so not about killing Y/N. This joke is on you two. I mean… come on. How great has it been to watch you to see her being torn apart again and again. Watching your sister die everyday. Forever.”

“You son of a bitch.”

The trickster smiled. “How long will it take you to realise you can’t save your sister, no matter what.”

“Oh yeah? We kill you, this ends now.” Sam growled.

“Woah. Okay, look. I was just playing around. You can’t take a joke, fine. You’re out of it. Tomorrow you’ll wake up and it’ll be wednesday. I swear.”

“You're lying. “

He shrugged. “If I am, you know where to find me.”

~

“But you better promise me, I’ll be back in time-”

Sam sat up abruptly, awoken by the sudden racket that filled the room. After sitting up groggily and allowing his eyes to adjust to the light he glanced at the clock, hardly noting the time before he… made a double take. The small three letter panel now read ‘WED’

Sam couldn’t contain the gasp that fell from his lips. “It’s wednesday!”

“Yeah…?” You said from across the room where you were rummaging though your bag. “Which usually comes after Tuesday. Turn that crap off, would you?” you asked him.

“No. Leave it on.” Dean interjected. He agreed with Sam. If he heard Asia one more time he was going to kill himself. “Isn’t that the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard?”

“...No. Jesus, how many Tuesdays did you guys have?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Dean sighed. “Wait..what do you remember.”

“I remember you two being pretty whacked out yesterday. And then i remember running into the trickster. S’bout it really.”

“Right. Whatever. Lets get out of here.” Sam said as he pulled on a shirt.

“What? No breakfast?” You asked, slightly upset that you were going to miss out on the diner food you had quite enjoyed yesterday. 

“No breakfast.”

~

Sam and Dean were still inside when they heard it. The unmistakable pop of a gun being fired. You were outside loading the last of your things into Baby and-

Sam's heart sank.

“Y/N!” He cried, dropping what he was doing and racing down the stairs towards you.

The offender fled the moment the gunshot had sounded and your two brothers could see him rounding the corner, but their concern was on you, sprawled out across the floor in a pool of your own blood.

They shook you, crying out your name but you didn’t move. Your heart had stopped beating. 

“No. This isn’t supposed to happen today.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut tight, only to nearly cry when he opened them again and you were still lying lifelessly in his brothers clutch. “We’re supposed to wake up.”

And then, he began to cry.

Part 2 may be coming…I’ll add it to my to do list

guilty feet have got no rhythm or whatever

Obvious to All but Two

Description: You and Sanji are the only ones who can't tell that you're into each other, and it's driving the others a little crazy.

Connected to this one, which is just Luffy's POV, since I saw in the reblogs someone thought it would be cute to see everyone else's POVs and I just loved that idea!!!!!

Nami notices it first, the way Sanji’s affections and compliments shift to you. Of course, he still flatters her endlessly, but it’s more lighthearted and friendly, all romantic overtures focused solely on you.

It’s a nice change of pace, though she does find it a bit ridiculous, but you don’t seem to mind, or even notice, so she doesn’t say anything. Not until she finds you in the storage room, hunched over in the dark, a lantern on the table the singular light source, Sanji’s suit jacket halfway in your lap, halfway in the table. Your pin cushion is on the table as well, and you nearly jump out of your skin when she raps her knuckles on the round wooden tabletop to catch your attention.

“Nami! You scared me.” You tell her, one hand on your hip reaching for your pistols that you left in your shared bedroom, the other frantically trying to hide Sanji’s jacket.

“What are you doing up so late? I thought you went to bed hours ago?”

You laugh nervously, glancing around to make sure no one else was around. “Would you believe me if I told you I was sleepwalking?”

“Absolutely not.” Your shoulders slump, and she takes a seat, picking up the limp sleeve of Sanji’s jacket. “So, is there a reason you have this or..?”

“It got torn, during our last fight, and he keeps saying he’ll buy a new one at the next island, but I know this is his favorite one, and I hate to see him looking so unkempt.”

She hums in response, taking in your lantern lit form. You’re so clearly enamored with Sanji. You’re treating his jacket like it’s the One Piece itself.

You duck your head, embarrassment creeping across your face. “It’s dumb, isn’t it? I don’t even know how I’ll explain why I did it; it’s not like he asked me to sew it back up for him.”

“I’m pretty sure if you tore it more and gave it back to him, he’d thank you.” She snorts softly.

You look at her confusion knitting your brows. “Why would he do that?”

She leans her head into her hand, giving you a look. “Because he’s into you?”

“No, no way, he’s just a flirt, he’s flirts with everyone, he doesn’t like me like that…” You fidget with the cuffs of his jacket. “Does he?”

Nami’s heart twists in her chest, you’re a little bit younger than her, and she can’t help but feel protective. “I mean I think it’s pretty obvious but if he doesn’t then he’s an idiot.”

You smile bashfully, smoothing out his jacket. “Thank you.”

“But it is a little creepy, you sitting here in the dark hunched over his jacket like a bellringer. Why don’t you come finish that in our room?”

“Really? I don’t want to disturb your sleep.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got a few new things I want to add to the map anyways, just be quick about it.” She says, standing and taking the lantern.

“I’ll be super quick; I’m basically almost done anyways.” You tell her, bundling up your sewing supplies and following her through the hatch back to your shared room.

She watches you hover in the doorway to the kitchen, foot propped up on the bar stool next to her, resting her folded arms on her knee, her back to Sanji who’s finishing up plating breakfast. She raises a brow at you, and you give her a nervous smile. She rolls her eyes fondly in response. You’re not usually this shy, she’s seen you reduce Sanji to a blushing mess at least twice in the last week, but she gets it. Crushes are hard, gift giving can be a vulnerable act, and while she doubts it highly, there’s a chance Sanji doesn’t like the fact that you stole and repaired his jacket in the dead of night. Men are weird sometimes; they get sensitive about certain things. Swords, ships, gold chains, a portrait of some girl they swore they were in love with ten years ago, the list goes on and on.

“Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes.” Sanji announces, his back still to the door.

You take a step in then step back out with a silent squeak when it looks like Sanji is about to turn, nearly crashing into Zoro.

Zoro glances over at her, a do I even want to know expression on his face.

She tilts her head towards Sanji and his deadpan expression of disgust is so quick that she can’t stop herself from laughing.

“What’s so funny? Did Zoro tell a joke?” Luffy asks, his silverware already in hand waiting for Sanji to set his plate down.

“Mosshead? Tell a joke? Now that’s funny Cap.” Sanji says.

“Alright Waiter, why don’t you hurry up, the eggs are gonna be cold by the time you’re done garnishing.”

Sanji clicks his tongue. “True artistry cannot be rushed.”

You’ve finally made your way into the kitchen, coming to stand next to Nami who slides her foot off the stool so you can sit. Sanji’s jacket is folded neatly in your lap, hidden by the countertop overhang.

“So?” Nami asks quietly, bumping her shoulder into yours.

“So?”

“Are you going to give it to him now or?”

“He’s cooking, I don’t want to get in his way.” You explain, looking as if you’re going to bolt.

Okay, tough love time. “Hey Sanji?”

“Yes, madam?” He calls, looking over his shoulder with a grin that only grows when he sees you sitting beside her.

“Y/N has something for you when you’re done.”

“Nami!” You whisper-scream, putting on a smile when Sanji turns, wiping his hands on his apron.

“A present? Now, what did I do to deserve that?” He asks, picking up the plates and dishing them out.

“I’m wondering that too.” Zoro says, coming to sit beside Luffy, Usopp still in the corner writing his latest letter to Kaya.

Sanji glares at him, then turns back to you, setting you and Nami’s plates down with a gentleness she’s come to attribute with Sanji.

“Oh, it’s not really a present, it’s just…” You hand him his jacket, grabbing your napkin to give your hands something to do. “I noticed it had a tear in it from that pirate’s cutlass, and I sewed it up, I’m not a professional seamstress by any means, but I’m not horrible with a needle, I just hope it looks alright.”

It looks perfect, Nami’s already seen it a million times over since she found you in the storage room. It looks like it was never damaged in the first place.

“You can’t even tell it was ever torn, this stitching y/n, it’s masterful.” Sanji says, beaming at you with the full radiance of the sun. “Thank you, sweetheart, really, your kindness knows no bounds, we truly are in the presence of a goddess.”

You giggle and wave his praise off. “It was nothing, I just didn’t want you to look unkempt, I know order and appearance means a lot to you.”

Nothing my ass, Nami snorts, stealing a piece of bacon from your plate, and popping it in her mouth, before Luffy can.

Usopp is second or at least he thinks he's second, you're the gunslinging duo he likes to think he knows you pretty well.

“So, how’s Kaya’s doctor stuff going? I saw you got a new letter from her.” You say, voice a little strained from the way you both hang upside down from the rigging, preferred weapons in hand.

It’s a normal sailing day, a lot of downtime, so you and Usopp pulled down the netting he and Nami rigged up, securing it to the mast and rigging, creating a pseudo-obstacle course to help you both keep your skills sharp while at sea. Plus, Luffy likes swinging from it and seeing how far out over the ocean he can stretch.

“She’s been studying like crazy, but she said she’s been making really good progress.” Usopp says, loading a ball bearing into his slingshot.

“It’s Kaya, of course she’s making good progress. I know I only met her like once, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be an amazing doctor.” You aim for one of the targets and shoot, hitting dead on. “Hey, maybe when she’s done studying, she can be our ship doctor, that would be cool.”

Usopp goes next, hitting slightly to the left of the bullseye when the wind pushes the target back suddenly. “That would be awesome, but I don’t know.”

“What’s there not to know?” You ask, aiming with your left hand, swearing under your breath when the ship rocks and your shot hits too high. “She’s smart, kind, strong, you’re like childhood best friends, you guys like each other, and she’s a blonde which is always a plus.”

Usopp's ears perk up, he’s had a slight sense that there was something between you and Sanji, but he wasn’t sure if either of you were aware of it. “Let’s take a break.”

You holster your pistols. “Okay.”

He pushes himself off the mast, swinging back and forth watching as you do the same, laughing as you spin in the air. He waits until you’ve stopped spinning, swinging past you as he asks, “blond is a plus?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m a sucker for a blond.” You tell him, pushing off the mast one more time before grabbing at the net above you to slow your swinging.

He does the same, pulling himself up to look at you. “You know Sanji is blond.”

Your brows furrow. “Yeah so?”

He wriggles his eyebrows. “Soooo.”

“Soooo?” You echo, searching his face for any hints as to where he’s going with this.

He loops his arms through the netting, resting his chin on them to stare at you expectantly. “Y/N, come on.”

“Come on what?”

He sighs dramatically, tilting his head to emphasize his words. “You’re a sucker for blonds, and Sanji is blond.”

“That’s just a coincidence.” You protest, untangling yourself from the netting and hanging from your knees once more, taking your pistols back out.

He flips down as well. “So, you don’t like Sanji then?”

You huff and refuse to face him, tripping over your words unlike he’s ever seen before. Except for that one time you accidentally walked in on Sanji getting out of the shower, towel around his hips, and Usopp had to convince you not to hide in the crow’s nest for the rest of the week. “I like Sanji, just—ugh not like—I don’t know, and he doesn’t even—shut up is this because I got a bounty before you? Are just messing with me?”

“Actually, I got a bounty before you, but I know it’s nice to dream.”

You whip your head around, wincing slightly as the blood rushes in your head. “That was Luffy’s bounty, that doesn’t count!”

“You sound just like Sanji, that doesn’t count, this is stupid, blah blah blah. I get it you guys are jealous of me, just date already and be jealous together.”

“I’m going to shoot you.” You deadpan, reaching for him, the force of your movement swinging you past him.

Usopp scrambles up the rigging, unhooking his feet and dropping to the deck below, a shit eating grin on his face as he turns to run. Yeah, you totally like Sanji. “You can deny all you want, y/n, but I know the truth.”

“I’m not jealous of you. Get back here!” You call, hurrying to unhook your feet so you can give chase. You hit the deck, one gun drawn, a bolt of energy whizzing past his ear, scattering like the sun shimmering on the waves when it hits the fireproof brick wall that the main deck shares with the kitchen.

He turns and thumbs his nose at you. If you wanted to hit him, you would’ve, he’s not worried. Another bolt flies past, and he grabs his slingshot, sending a harmless smoke and color powder pellet back in response. Bright pink smoke envelops you as he ducks below deck, your laughter, and fading curses following him down.

Sanji’s at the bottom of the short set of stairs clearly listening in, and he startles when he notices Usopp, quickly recovering, a carefree smile on his face. “You two having fun?”

“Yeah, but y/n might need some help getting all that color powder out of her hair.” Usopp says, folding his arms behind his head, giving Sanji a knowing smile as he saunters past. You two can thank him later. He has to tell Kaya about this. Another success for Captain Ussop, the matchmaking of y/n and Sanji, the Lady of the Golden Guns, and the Best Chef on the High Seas.

Zoro is actually second, but he acts like he's third simply because he was trying to ignore you and Saji's antics.

He's not stupid, he may be more of a strong silent type as you might call him, waiting and observing before acting, speaking little unless needed, but he’s not stupid. Zoro can see clear as day that Sanji is almost annoyingly head over heels for you. Which in itself is really not any of his business, though it does give him plenty of material to goad Sanji with. What he finds surprising though is that for a man who flirts with everything that moves, Sanji gets pretty jealous when someone flirts with you.

It starts off subtle. Sanji’s smile stiffening slightly when a bartender gives you a free drink with a wink. His body shifting closer to you as a fruit seller compliments your outfit. Then he turns it up a notch, refusing to let you get your own drinks from the bar, telling you some crap like a fair lady such as yourself should not be forced to order her own drink, allow me to fetch it for you. And when someone compliments you, Zoro has to fight back the urge to gag at how flowery and long-winded Sanji becomes. If someone says they like your dress Sanji is spending the next ten minutes telling you everything he likes about it. Praising the way the color compliments your skin, your hair, your eyes, marveling over the way the fabric either clings to or flows about your form, the way the cut of the neckline looks, the detailing, the fact that it has pockets or doesn’t have pockets, it’s never-ending.

He will admit, though, he does enjoy watching Sanji get all worked up when he can’t swoop in and distract you. Like today, you’re scanning through the racks of clothing in some shop he thinks is way too expensive, Nami at your side, the salesman hovering, dousing you both in compliments. Sanji just shoves his hands deeper and deeper in his pockets. His jaw set, his eyes never leaving you.

You head towards the curtained off section designated as a dressing room, a pile of clothes in your arms, and disappear behind one of the curtains.

Zoro meanders over, sinking into one of the weirdly shaped chairs set up outside the curtains, Sanji doing the same. “Tell me again why we had to come with you guys?” Zoro asks, tapping his fingers on the hilt of his swords.

“Because it’s the polite thing to do, we’re both ladies on a new island, and we need protection.” Nami says from behind her own curtain.

He rolls his eyes, he should’ve known this was part of her matchmaking scheme. “Didn’t I see you two beat the shit out of a guy just last week?”

Nami sticks her head out, her eyes narrowed. “Shut up, Zoro.”

He holds his hands up in surrender and lets it be. “Fine, fine, we’ll be here, waiting to protect you guys.”

He’ll admit it, the clothing all blurred together at some point, and he’s far more interested in the champagne offered by the salesman than the various shirts, skirts, and dresses you and Nami are trying on. But when you finally, finally reach the end of the pile, and are hesitant to come out, he pays attention.

“Come on, y/n, I’m sure you look great.” Nami says, her own last item, a sparkling dark blue gown that wraps around her form, a slit up the leg, catching the light as she moves to peek past your curtain.

“Okay, okay, just, give me a second.”

“You’ve had plenty of seconds.” Nami reminds you, tapping her foot.

You shyly pull open the curtain and step out towards the full length mirrors set against the wall, turning and twisting, keeping your eyes on the gown and off anyone else so you don’t see their reactions. It’s similar to Nami’s, but a deep red almost crimson, and where hers is cut straight across at the neckline, yours is more halter style.

Zoro let’s out a low whistle. “Damn y/n.”

“I knew you’d look great.” Nami says, smiling as she motions for you to give her a twirl.

You do so, face flushing, your eyes pointedly looking anywhere but Sanji. “I like it, but where would I wear it? It’s too nice for just being on the ship.”

“B-Baratie.” Sanji says, a blush crawling up his neck. “You could wear it at Baratie love, Luffy wants to go back and visit soon, it’s perfectly in dress code.”

You smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress. “That could work, but I don’t know. What do you think, Zoro?”

He glances at Sanji who looks torn between staring unabashedly at you and glaring at him, then glances back at you, shrugging. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because I trust you to be straight with me.” You shrug, and he doesn’t let the way that simple sentence taps at the ice around his heart show on his face.

He takes a long look, dragging his eyes up and down your figure, biting back a smirk when Sanji mutters something about indecent looks, and stands crossing the space between you and him. Might as well mess with him a little bit, maybe it’ll spur him to action. “I mean, it’s pretty.”

“Well, yeah, but is it worth getting?”

He runs a finger down the halter strap, starting at the back of your neck and ending at your clavicle, hooking one finger beneath it to feel the inside. The material isn’t scratchy like he thought it might be given the sparkling, so that’s good. He doesn’t want you or Nami to spend money on something uncomfortable that wouldn’t make any sense.

“I think it’s worth get—”

“She didn’t ask you, Waiter.” He deadpans, removing his hand and resting it on your hip, spreading his fingers to see if the slit goes as high as it looks.

You don’t react, just look at him curiously, but Sanji can’t see that.

“This slit is pretty high, I don’t know how comfortable you’d be with that once you’re walking around.”

Your lips crook to the side in thought and you step back, fiddling with it. “I guess I could sew it closed a bit here at the top.”

“Yeah, that could work, but let me just test something.” He says, grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder, turning so the side of your dress with the slit is facing Sanji.

You yelp and grab onto his shirt for balance. “Zoro, what the hell?”

“Need to make sure it’s not showing too much, what if you get injured, and we have to carry you?”

Sanji’s gritting his teeth, his hands balled in his pockets. “There are other ways to carry a lady.”

“Yeah, yeah, how much of her skin is showing, think it’s too much?”

Sanji swallows hard, eyes tracing up your leg. “I have no right to decide what’s too much skin, it’s y/n’s body, whatever she’s comfortable with is all that matters.”

Zoro can feel you stifling a dreamy sigh and readjusts his arm to better secure you.

You tuck your hair behind your ear to get it out of your face. “I’d actually like your opinion, Sanji, if you don’t mind? I wouldn’t want to be too exposed.”

Sanji’s on his feet in an instant, arms held out. “I think it’s too high for this position, but if our dear Mosshead will indulge me?”

Zoro hands you over and takes a step back. Sanji’s carrying you princess style, which is just as well since he calls you that constantly.

“See here, when you’re being carried properly, we can see that while the slit is still high, it’s less revealing. Though I think for comfort it’s best to sew it up some, which shouldn’t be a problem for you seeing as you so masterfully repaired my suit jacket.”

Your arms are around Sanji’s neck, and you’re looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. “You’re so sweet.”

“And you are absolutely stunning in this gown. You’ll be the envy of every man, woman, fishman, fishwoman, in Baratie.”

“As long as I make you look good on your triumph return, then I’m happy.” You say, smiling prettily, looking up at Sanji through your lashes.

Zoro watches as Sanji’s ears turn red, and he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat. “You’d do that anyways, gown or no gown. Haven’t I told you there’s nothing prettier than you?”

“I think you said beautiful, actually.”

“My apologies, princess, there’s nothing and no one more beautiful than you.”

You giggle in response, girlish and flustered, trying and failing to hide your smile. So, this is what Luffy was talking about when he said he saw you get all embarrassed around Sanji.

Zoro feels Nami’s elbow knock against his arm. “Nice work.”

“Just tired of them mooning over each other all the time.”

Zeff is understandable among the last to know, but still caught on before you and Sanji.

He’s glad to have Sanji visiting Baratie, though he wishes the brat hadn’t brought that bottomless stomach of a captain with him. No matter, it’s nice to have Sanji in the kitchen with him once more, barking orders and receiving that familiar defiance from his little eggplant all grown up. And grown up he definitely is, seeing as he brought a little cabbage with him. You’re a sweet girl; with weaponry he hasn’t seen since the high tide of his pirate days strapped to your hips that you stubbornly refused to be parted with until Sanji assured you that they’d be kept safe. It had taken a lot of wheedling and promises of making sure dessert had strawberries somewhere on it to get you to reluctantly hand over the gleaming golden pistols, to the host who looked just as reluctant to take them.

Now he’s here, dicing tomatoes alongside Sanji waiting to see if he’ll bring you up. When he doesn’t after a few minutes, Zeff speaks. “So, the lass you’re with?”

“Y/N, Lady of the Golden Guns, a beauty ain’t she?” Sanji says, finely dicing the tomatoes with perfect precision. “And that gown, stunning, you know she asked for my opinion about it?”

“Smart girl. You know, I always knew you’d go for more than just a pretty face. You need someone with fire to keep your head outta the clouds all the time. Seems like she’s up to the task.”

Sanji’s knife stilled. “We’re not—she doesn’t see me like that.”

Zeff scoffs. “And a mermaid stole my leg.”

Sanji shoots him a scathing look.

He chuckles. “It’s plain as day, she likes you. Even her captain couldn’t get her to give those guns up, but you offered her strawberries on a dessert and a reassuring word, and she’s handing them over.”

“It took far more than that, and she was still reluctant to hand them over, she’s very…protective of them, she’s had a hard go of it getting and keeping those guns.” Sanji says, his tone prickly.

Defensive of you and your shared captain, Zeff’s glad to see it. “Still, wasn’t her captain that convinced her, but you.”

“We’re friends.” Sanji says curtly, calling for another set of tomatoes to be brought to him.

“Again mermaid, leg.”

A muscle in Sanji’s jaw twitches. “Yeah, yeah, old man I get it, you don’t believe me.”

Zeff shrugs. “Can’t an old man hope for the best?”

“You can, doesn’t mean you’ll get it.” Sanji says his shoulders slumping.

Zeff pauses in his prepping, wipes his hand on his apron and squeezes Sanji’s shoulder. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. If she rejects you, and you’re too embarrassed to face her you can always come back home, I’ll put you right back on the line.”

Sanji shoulders his hand off but smiles gratefully. “As if I’d ever work for you again.”

Zeff jerks his head towards Sanji’s prepping. “What do you call what you’re doing right now?”

“Making a meal for my crew.” He says pointedly, that old defiance slipping right back in.

“Which includes your girlfriend.” Zeff adds, unable to resist ribbing him.

Sanji’s lips curl up into a half smile. “We’ll see, old man, we’ll see.”

Zeff notes the way Sanji grabs the oregano, and dashes some of it on a particular plate, even though his nose crinkles at what he knows the little eggplant considers sacrilege. “Who likes oregano in your crew?”

“Y/N. I’m trying to wean her off it, but she says it was one of the few spices her mom knew how to cook with… It reminds her of home.”

He nods, feeling his old stone heart crack a little and resists the urge to tease Sanji, instead letting him be, and helping him carry the plates out once they’re ready.

Zeff retreats to the kitchen and watches the way you lean into Sanji’s space, listening intently as he explains each dish, fawning over them and his knowledge, while the others or your crew share looks. It seems that everybody but you two knows about your shared affections. He chuckles quietly and shakes his head before going back into the kitchen, young love.

Just friends, that’s what Sanji said, but Zeff doesn’t know any friends he’d have pressed against a wall the way Sanji has you. His hands cupping your face, yours gripping his jacket, lips melding together, whispered words exchanged between fervent kisses, foreheads resting against each other when you both come up for air. He doesn’t say anything, just backs away slowly and tells everybody to avoid going out back. He’ll give you and Sanji some privacy, he just hopes he won’t see you two back in nine months, he’s not ready to be a grandfather quite yet.

Sanji TL: @elrondswifey

YESSSSS! HE JOINED THEM!!!!

You're one of us now, Michael

will there be part 4 of Bad moon rising? 🥺

Hi! Yes, there will be a part 4 of bad moon rising. I have just been super busy with school and work that I’ve had no time to actually get to work. And when I have been able to have time to write I needed up getting massive writers block. But I do plan on finishing the chapter and sending it out hopefully in December. ;)

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

hopeless romantic! jason todd who thinks cheesy pick up lines are stupid, and that surely, the shakespearian shit is gonna work on hinge

hopeless romantic! jason todd who doesn't get why everyone he tries to match with doesnt fw his poetic bars (hes TRYING)

hopeless romantic! jason todd who finally, FINALLY gets a match. he has to put his phone down for a million years just to process everything and then glances back down at his screen to make sure it's still there.

how is someone is genuinely that stunning?

hopeless romantic! jason todd who feels like he's fumbling every time his messages you. if he had less pride, he'd probably ask dick for advice, but no, fuck that, he can do things on his own. it'd be humiliating to beg for romantic advice from him.

at least you seem amused by jason's antics. even if he does seem mildly inept with flirting. dork.

hopeless romantic! jason todd who makes sure to ask about your favourite flowers to get you a bouquet of them for your first date and meet up

hopeless romantic! jason todd who drops said flowers when he finally sees you in person and loses all his words and cognitive function for a moment when you say hi and greet him with a friendly hug. yeah he's not surviving the date.

completely and utterly hopeless! jason todd when the date goes incredible. he walks you home because... obviously? it's gotham and it's dark.

you leave him with a kiss on his cheek and the promise of seeing him sometime again, and he just knows he's a goner.

Bucky Barnes incorrect quotes P.1

————————————————— Bucky: Y/n... 

Y/n: I can tell by the tone of your voice that you are disappointed. Alas, I must further disappoint you by affirming how little I give a fuck.  —————————————————

Y/n: Why did you guys dress up as each other for Halloween?  Sam: Bucky is the scariest thing I could think of! 

Bucky: Sam told me I should pick the dumbest costume possible

————————————————— John: Do you guys hear something?  Y/n: I hear the sound of you shutting the fuck up.

Bucky & Sam: Burn

—————————————————While the Avengers is in a battle* 

Bucky, trying to warn about the location of an enemy: To the left! 

Y/n: Take it back now y'all! 

————————————————— Sam: *cooking* 

Y/n: *kicks down door* 

Y/n: *grabs knife from Sam's hand* 

Y/n: WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR? 

Sam: 

Sam: What. 

Bucky: They're trying to tell you they want to cook.

————————————————— Y/n: I think it’s time I get my life in order. 

Bucky, narrating: But they did not get their life in order. In fact, they got drunk last night and fought a raccoon.

Rocket in the background: And I won.

Y/n: you fucking liar.

—————————————————

Bucky, holding an antique bottle: Is this whiskey or perfume?  Y/n: *grabs and chugs the entire bottle* 

Y/n: 

Y/n: It's perfume

—————————————————

Y/n: If I didn't know better, Bucky, I'd say you were scared.  Bucky: Heh, scared? 

*absolute silence* 

Bucky: DID YOU HEAR THAT?!  —————————————————

John: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think. 

Bucky: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult —————————————————

Sam: So... who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon? 

Bucky: We're chopsticks!  Sam: Well... that's cute! 

Sam: Does that mean you two snuggle together perfectly?  Y/n: No, it means that if you take the other away, the only thing the other is good for is stabbing.

————————————————— Bucky: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait. 

Y/n: You and me! 

Bucky: *tearing up* Ok.

This is also another lost boys fic that I really enjoyed :)

‘Cause We’re Gonna Be Legends; pt. 1

Summary: Imagine wandering the Boardwalk with your friends. A group of boys catch their attention and while your friends are doing everything to catch their attention in return, they are apparently more interested in the oblivious girl of the bunch who doesn’t care to bat her eyelashes at them. You. [Part One]

GIF courtesy of @daebom + Original GIF Post

Words: 6.5K Warnings: I have no idea what this is. I wanted just a quick little scene where the boys are taking care of a sick S/O and it turned into this. Fml. Sorry for their OOC-ness.

Keep reading