#rwt

SIR CROCODILE

It was late evening, and you were sprawled on the bed with Crocodile by your side as you listened to the rain.

He was reading the news with a cigar resting between his lips, smoke curling lazily into the dim light of the room. His attention was fixed on whatever article he had found interesting, and his eyes scanned the lines as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Something about the World Government had made the front page, too, bold and dramatic, but you didn’t bother trying to follow it. It was most likely some propaganda, anyway.

The scent of his cigar drifted toward you. Once, you had hated it; it had been too bitter and sharp for your nose back then. But now, it settled around you like something familiar, something that gave you comfort. It meant he was here, after all, somewhere near you if not next to you.

You turned onto your side and looked at him.

For a moment, you just watched. You had not seen him the whole day, after all, and despite seeing each other every evening, the time felt too little, too short. Maybe it was time for a date? When was the last time you spent quality time together? If memory served right...before Cross Guild, which meant at least six months. Yeah, you should probably bring that up at breakfast.

Crocodile didn’t look at you, but you knew he noticed your gaze. He always did.

“What is it?” he asked, voice low, uninterested on the surface but attentive underneath.

You shrugged slightly and brushed your fingers against the soft fabric of his nightshirt before resting them on his chest.

“Just thinking how lucky I am to have you.” You smiled and shifted closer, letting your head rest against him. He was always so warm. Was it because of his Devil Fruit, perhaps? “I love you very much, you know?”

He scoffed when he heard that. It was a quiet, dismissive sound, like you’d said something foolish. Then, he turned the page of his newspaper as if nothing had happened without saying anything in return.

You didn't mind, of course. You were very well aware of how bad he was at verbalizing his feelings from the very beginning of the relationship. Communication was definitely not his strongest suit.

So you stayed where you were, hand resting over his heartbeat, listening to the faint rustle of paper and the slow burn of his cigar with your eyes closed and ready to fall asleep.

Minutes passed, and you had almost dozed off. Then, without a word, the paper lowered, and Crocodile shifted a bit. The cigar was extinguished and set aside without burning his fingers, and he got ready to sleep as well.

You moved to the side to let him get more comfortable in the bed, a bit cranky, but the arm that came around you made up for that, as you felt his huge, rough hand resting on your back.

Yes, you thought, this was definitely the best part of your day.

BUGGY THE CLOWN

You were in the shower while Buggy removed his makeup back in your shared bedroom.

It had been a long, exhausting day: running around Karai Bari, dealing with endless errands, messages, and whatever chaos came with being tied to something as big as the Cross Guild was not an easy task. At some point, piracy had stopped feeling like freedom and started feeling like… an assistant job.

You didn't really know how you really felt about this, exactly, but...that was something you would have to think about another day.

You sighed and leaned your forehead briefly against the cool tile, letting the water run over you. The warmth felt so nice.

You didn’t bother putting on much after: just one of Buggy’s oversized sweaters that nearly swallowed you whole. It still carried a faint trace of his usual scent: powder, smoke, and something oddly artificial and sweet. It was a weird mix, to say the least, but something you had grown to love.

You dried your hair quickly, very half-heartedly, not really caring if it was still damp, and stepped into the bedroom.

The first thing your eyes immediately landed on was the dressing table, and the total mess Buggy had left.

Wet wipes tossed aside, smudges of red and white, lipstick caps left open, stains scattered like evidence of a small disaster.

You sighed.

Morning problem, you decided then, seconds later. You’d scold him to clean his shit in the morning, after your cup of coffee.

Buggy was already in bed when you turned your attention back, leaning over the side as he rummaged through a drawer, muttering something under his breath. He was probably searching for his sleeping mask.

The room felt colder than the bathroom, but the moment you slipped under the blanket, the warmth wrapped around you instantly, and it was both heavy and comforting.

He noticed you then, and without wasting much time, one of his hands detached and stretched toward the lamp, clicking the light off with a soft snap. The room fell into darkness, lit only faintly by whatever slipped through the curtains of the tent's makeshift window.

You shifted closer and pressed against his side. You just loved snuggling with your clown while sleeping.

“I’m really lucky to have you, aren’t I…?” you mumbled, and yawned as your head hit the pillow.

Buggy froze, then, completely still under your arms, his exhaustion from seconds ago gone.

Then—

“W-Wha?! I-I mean…!” He stuttered, jerking upright, face heating instantly. Even in the dark, you could see it, the way his nose lit up like a little red Christmas light. You had to hold in your laughter after that, to not ruin the moment. Did your little praise delight him that much? “Of course you are! You’ve got GREAT taste, honey bunny! Not everyone can earn the Great Buggy’s affection, you know?!”

You decided to indulge him, then, like the attention junkie that he was. "Oh, yeah? I must be really lucky then."

His puffed his chest with pride and nodded. “Stick with me, and you’ll be even luckier..! I'M the best of the best, and I get only the best of the best for my darling, too!"

Then, he pulled you close, so close you could barely breathe, and then came the kisses. Kisses everywhere! Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your collarbone: every part of you that his red-tinted lips could reach! They were all quick, exaggerated, and over-the-top like everything he did as well.

“Buggy—!” you burst into laughter, squirming as you tried to push him away. “Stop! It tickles!”

“Gyahahaha! You started it! How can I fall asleep now when I feel so great?!"

DRACULE MIHAWK

Mihawk was already in bed when you entered, half-reclined against the headboard, a book open in one hand and a glass of wine resting on the drawer beside him when you found him.

The room was quiet, comfortably so. No chaos, no noise, all of that was left behind at the other side of the curtain that was supposed to be the tent's door. Now, all you could hear was just the faint rustle of pages turning and the occasional clink of glass when he reached for his drink as the clown's circus became a background noise.

You didn't call out to him, didn't need to, and instead, just slipped under the blanket and crawled closer, emerging at his side like a little caterpillar.

Mihawk didn't look at you, but he did notice you, and without a word, he shifted one of his arms and settled it around you.

This was his way of greeting you. He preferred to stay silent after getting so overstimulated the whole day while dealing with all the Cross Guild nonsense.

This had made holding the book slightly awkward, however, so you adjusted and pressed yourself closer to him, fitting yourself into his side so the book could rest more comfortably between his hands.

You didn't ask what he was reading; you never did. It was always something dense, something impossibly dry, anyway; pages filled with ideas that felt like they belonged to another century, with a lexicon so outdated that most couldn't even understand a word in the sentence, let alone the whole thing. Something only he, or perhaps a ninety-year-old philosopher, could truly enjoy, and made you want to pull out your own ears whenever he started to lecture you about it.

But that didn't matter. What did matter was this: the way his chest felt against your cheeks as he breathed, the way he absentmindedly caressed your back, and the slow, rhythmic thud of his heart against your ear.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the moment.

This was the best feeling in the world, wasn't it?

“I’m so lucky to have you, really,” you sighed softly, then, and pulled the blanket a little higher. “The best partner ever.”

Mihawk didn't react at first. Of course, he didn't, but he did look thoughtful. Maybe a bit more than usual, even.

Then, he said, "...Is that so?" and turned another page.

You wondered what was going through his overthinking head as the wind kept trying to push its way into the tent. It was not at all easy for him, these types of verbal affections.

Minutes passed.

Five.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Then, it was already half an hour.

At some point, you wondered if he would give a proper answer at all. Maybe he’d simply let the moment settle and move on, like he often did. Maybe he’d assume it didn’t need a response, since you already knew how much he loved you anyway.

Yeah, that was it, wasn't it?

Knowing that he would most likely keep reading until he finished the whole thing, you made yourself comfortable and tried to fall asleep. And that took no time at all. You were already drifting since you had finished all your tasks, your thoughts softening at the edges when you rested your head on the pillow and your mind ready to let the dreams start after such a tiring day when the man said—

[DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO]

The warm water from the shower beat down on you, its heat soothing your aching muscles. The day had been exhausting. The endless back-and-forth with Trebol and Diamante, the constant tension of staying one step ahead of the marines, and that damn bullet wound at your side all combined to totally drain you of every bit of energy you had left for the rest of the month, really.

The ship rocked gently beneath your feet, almost like a cradle, and your eyelids grew heavy. With the steam enveloping you, you almost dozed off, too. Really, you would have slept in the shower if you could, but alas.

And then, you heard the unmistakable sound of the bathroom door creaking open.

Who was that, now?

Before you could even open your eyes, however, you felt Doflamingo's voice as he casually slipped into the shower with you.

“Make some room for me, too."

You grumbled, not bothering to move over, too comfortable in your spot. But he wasn't one to wait for permission. He shoved you aside with a gentle but firm push, though it still did agitate your wound all the same, while his tall frame crowded into the small space with you.

Really, you spend the whole day together, and yet he still couldn't leave your side even for half an hour, evidently.

The second he stepped under the water, however, a hiss escaped his lips.

"Are you trying to figure out what Hell feels like or something?" he cursed, the hot steam already reddening his skin. He tried to force himself to stay under the burning water, and his face was contorted in agony as he shifted awkwardly, trying to get used to the heat.

You couldn’t help yourself and laughed at his pained expression. It suited him very well, in your opinion. "With you, I'm already halfway there anyway," you joked, your tone laced with mock sweetness, just the way he did. Well, you had indeed learned from the best. "Get out if you can't handle it, you big baby."

Instead of stepping back, however, he grabbed the shampoo bottle from the shelf and squirted some into his hand before beginning to lather it into his hair. He was also pouting dramatically as he did so, of course, as if that was somehow going to change anything.

Well, you sure as hell didn't plan to turn the heat down anytime soon.

"I knew you were a witch," he grumbled, his annoyance clearly visible. "Now help me wash my back so I can get out before I look like a half-boiled lobster like you."

[DONQUİXOTE ROSINANTE]

It was winter, and after spending what felt like hours outside, braving the freezing winds, your body was throbbing from the cold. Oh, you hated the winter so much! The snow had piled up around your boots, some even getting in it and wetting your socks, and you could feel every inch of your skin shivering as you opened the door to your little home. The first thing you wanted, no, needed, was a hot shower, that was for sure.

You slipped inside, kicking off your boots by the door so you wouldn't get everywhere wet. As you entered the living room, though, something hit your nose: the smell of cigarettes.

"Rosi?" you called, your voice was slightly muffled by the thick scarf still wrapped around your neck. It was unusual for him to be this early.

Then, there was a sudden sound of something banging in the kitchen, followed by Rosinante’s familiar voice. "Oh! You're home! I was just about to cook!"

Oh, God...

"Please put out the smoke, then," you said, while making your way towards him. "Last time the soup had ashes in it."

Rosinante chuckled sheepishly at the reminder. "Oh, yeah, sorry!" he said, and threw the cigarette into the sink before washing it away.

You sighed. The heat from inside was a welcome relief, but nothing would feel as good as the warm water you were about to step into.

"If you haven't started yet," you called over your shoulder as you made your way toward the bathroom, "we can shower together first. Then I can help you with the cooking." And give yourself the chance to make sure he didn't actually forget it in the oven and burn the house down.

"That sounds good," Rosinante smiled, and walked after you.

"What were you planning on making?"

"Lasagna."

"Do we have all the ingredients? I'm pretty sure we don’t have any cheese left."

"I already got everything we need from the market," he said, puffing his chest out a little, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

"Great," you said, and smiled at him. Then, you slipped into the bathroom, while Rosinante went ahead to fetch some towels.

The bathroom was warm, and you quickly undressed, placing your hair tie next to the sink. You stepped into the shower and turned the water on to the perfect temperature; almost boiling, just the way you liked it.

The steam instantly surrounded you, and the water stung at first, but then, it felt incredible, and you let out a soft sigh, relaxing under the cascade of warmth.

A few moments later, Rosinante appeared in the doorway, towels in hand, looking like he was trying to move quickly without slipping on the floor and cracking his head open. Again. He set the towels down on the toilet, undressed, and tossed both of your dirty clothes in the laundry basket. Then he joined you in the shower.

The moment he stepped in, however, you heard him hiss in pain, and his body jerked as though the heat had taken him by surprise. You turned to look at him, concerned.

"You okay?" you asked.

Rosinante smiled weakly, but his cheeks were already flushed, and he seemed to be struggling more than he wanted to admit.

"Y-Yeah...!" he stammered, as if you couldn't see how his skin had gotten red under the water, like he was barely able to tolerate it.

You decided to show him some pity.

"Would you like me to turn the heat down a little?"

"No, no!" he said quickly. "It’s fine, keep it as it is!"

You gave him a dubious look. "Are you sure? You look like you're getting tortured."

"I’m really fine...!" he insisted, his voice a little too high. To prove his point, he stepped further into the hot stream of water, the spray hitting his back directly. His back arched slightly under the pressure, however, and you saw the muscles tense in discomfort.

Really, this man...

"I'll just turn it down, wait a minute."

"No, I’m-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Shut it, love. It’s clear you’re suffering."

Rosinante kept insisting that it was fine, but you reached for the knob and turned the water down a few degrees regardless. The cold water came seconds later, cooling the heat. You didn't really enjoy it when the shower was barely warm like this, but you liked it even less to see Rosinante in so much pain.

"Better?"

He huffed, wrapped his hands around your back, and pulled you close. You noticed that despite the cooler water, his ears were still a bit flushed. "...Yeah."

[TRAFALGAR D. WATER]

It was one of those late nights where you just couldn’t sleep, restless and tossing around in your bed. And so, in true you fashion, you decided the best solution was to sneak out for a quick shower.

You tiptoed through the dark hallways of the ship, careful not to wake anyone up, while you tried your best not to hit anything on your way. You saw that Law was asleep on his desk again, surrounded by his damn medical books, that damn workaholic. Well, at least it benefited you this time.

You made it to the bathroom soon after and closed the door behind you with a quiet click. Quickly, you undressed and then stepped into the shower, letting the hot water rush over your body. A sigh escaped you as the heat melted away the tension in you. Really, this felt like heaven.

For a few minutes, you closed your eyes and let the steam rise and the water gush down your back. Warm water made you always so sleepy, too...

And then....

Knock knock.

You froze. It couldn’t be, no way, he had to be still sleeping! But sure enough, the familiar, impatient voice floated through the door.

"Hey, (Y/N), what are you doing?" Law asked, his tone suspicious.

You cursed under your breath and pressed a hand to your forehead. How did he always know? It was like he had an alarm that tracked your every move, warning him, no matter how stealthy you tried to be.

"Nothing!" you quickly shouted, and tried to drown out the sound of the water with your voice while twisting the knob to lower the water pressure. Maybe that would buy you a few more minutes of peace.

"Don't lie to me," Law huffed. If you closed your eyes, you could already imagine the frown on his face, ready to scold you. At this point, he was going to get wrinkles before even turning fifty. "You're boiling yourself there again, aren't you?"

It’s not that hot this time!" you called back, trying to sound convincing. "And I just got in!"

"You always say that. I hope you're telling the truth for your own sake. Because if you faint there again, I won’t be dragging you out of there!"

"It’s fine, Law, really! And that only happened once anyway!"

"And that's one time too many!"

"Well," you said, voice sweet and teasing, "I love you too!"

[DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO]

Doflamingo was hunched over a large, weathered map, the edges curling as he carefully traced the routes of various islands to figure out which way would be faster to reach Whiteland for their next raid before returning to the hideout. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, and waves crashing against the ship was the only sound in the room for a moment.

You stood at the doorway, watching him. He was so focused on his work that he didn't even notice you at first, but the room felt too still, too quiet, too tempting. You had to mess with it.

"Hey, Doffy," you said, and leaned over the edge of the massive table, your face inching closer to his.

"Hm?" He said. You couldn't tell if he was looking at you or not because of his pink-tinted glasses. "What is it?"

"I just wanted to ask you something," you leaned on him. "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Fufufufu… What kind of question is that?" he chuckled at you, clearly amused by your ridiculous inquiry.

"Come on. Just answer me, Doffy!"

He let out a lazy sigh, then tapped his finger on his chin as if considering it for a moment. "Probably not," he said, then, bluntly. "How am I supposed to love a worm anyway? I would probably step on you without even noticing you wiggling on the ground."

You gasped, half-amused, and half-very-much-offended. "So, you would just abandon me?"

Doflamingo turned his head slightly toward you and raised a brow. "Why? Are you planning on turning into one sometime soon?" he asked.

“Well, maybe a devil fruit user who can turn people into bugs will attack us and turn me into a worm!” you declared, arms crossed as if you were presenting an irrefutable case.

That got another laugh out of the man. "You're really unbelievable..." he said, shaking his head. "But okay, I'll play along. If you become a worm, I'll put you in a jar and make sure you are still alive until we can reverse it."

“And if you can’t?”

The smirk on his lips got wider as he leaned back in his chair and pulled you on his lap. "Then I'll give you to Buffalo to use you as fish bait." He said it as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world. “Might as well get one last use for you.”

“What?!” You gaped at him. Really? Fish bait? What the hell?

He shrugged. "You heard me."

You balled your fist and punched him square in the chest, though it didn’t even make him flinch. He most likely barely felt it, really. "You’re the absolute worst, you know that!"

[DONQUIXOTE ROSINANTE]

Both of you were lazily sprawled across the bed, with sheets tangled around your legs, still half-asleep. You turned onto your side, scooted closer, and flopped your head right onto Rosinante’s chest. If you stood still, you could hear his heartbeat, too.

“Hey, Rosi,” you said, then, voice still ragged with sleep. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

He frowned almost immediately; confused, groggy, and clearly not fully there just yet. It was clear he was still far too sleepy to deal with you, but he should have known better than to go to sleep that late, almost one a.m. in the morning.

“…What?” he mumbled. “A worm?”

You hummed in confirmation, smiling against him and tugging at one of the buttons on his pyjamas.

He blinked a few times and stared up at the ceiling. “Well…” he said, then, rubbing his eyes. “Would you be a cute worm?”

"The cutest!"

“Then yes,” he said, a little smile tugging at his lips. “I would. I’d get you a small pink bow and a big enclosure. With lots of leaves. And flowers. The nice ones.”

"What else?"

“....And, you can’t talk if you’re a worm, right? So I’d mostly talk to you instead. I could read the news for you. Or open the radio when I’m away.” He said, actually putting some thought into it. “Maybe even read books out loud. I don’t think worms get bored easily, but still.”

You smiled. “And you’d make sure no one stepped on me?"

“Of course,” he said immediately. “I’d be very careful, too.”

“And you’d have to carry me around, too. I can’t just stay inside a box all day, you know?"

"Okay, sure," he promised, chuckling. Then, after a beat, he added, “Should I… learn more about worms, then?” He asked. Was he trying to tease you back? Well, it sure wasn't going to work as he had planned. “Do you plan on turning into one soon? If so, I should probably get prepared.”

You laughed quietly and shook your head, then leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen anytime soon.” You ruffled his hair playfully.

That finally snapped him fully awake.

“…What do you mean?” he said, confused and even a bit spooked, “…not anytime soon?”

You booped his nose, laughing. He looked so cute when he was agitated. "I said what I said, Rosi."

“So it will happen at some point? Because if it does, I need to know. Are you cursed or something? What kind of worm are we talking about? Earthworm? Caterpillar? Do those count? No, those turn into butterflies, and-!"

[TRAFALGAR D. LAW]

It was close to midnight when you finally gave up trying to ignore the faint flickering light coming from Law’s office. The guy was pulling an all-nighter. Again. You huffed, frustrated, knowing full well what that meant: another exhausting night, followed by him being in an awful mood the next day because of the lack of sleep. And, of course, there was no way you’d let Bepo or anyone else handle him when he was like that. Nope, that responsibility fell squarely on your shoulders, as it always did.

With a sigh, you decided to put an end to this madness before it could even begin, and maybe annoy him in the process. No more sitting around waiting for him to realize he needed rest. Instead, you marched over to the door, threw it open with a dramatic and pretty loud slam, and planted yourself squarely on top of his anatomy book.

You smirked as you looked up at him, feeling oddly proud of your little interruption.

Law barely looked up from his papers, but still acknowledged you. "...What are you doing?" he asked, frowning. He wasn't able to be mad at you, however, even though he couldn't say if it was because he loved you so much or the lack of sleep was finally impairing his judgment.

You leaned back and gave him an exaggerated, innocent shrug. "I wanted to ask you something," you said. "It's very important, Law."

He sighed and tried to pull the book from under you to no avail. Really, what was that oh so important thing he was trying to learn that he couldn't even rest properly? "What is it?"

You leaned in closer, staring into his eyes with all the seriousness you could muster. "Tell me, would you still love me if I was a worm?"

It took a couple of seconds for him to register what you had just said. Then he asked, “…Why would you be a worm? Why not a spider, or a praying mantis, or a centipede?"

"Because," you said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "among the bugs, worms are definitely the cutest."

Law stared at you as if you were stupid, then he tried to figure out where this conversation was going. Then, finally, he gave up. His brain didn't have enough fuel to process what was happening.

"This is idiotic..." He muttered under his breath, but you could tell his attention was still on you, more intrigued than annoyed. Yup, he was truly sleep-deprived. "Hypothetically, if you somehow did turn into a worm, it wouldn't be you anymore. They have short memories, forgetting things after just two to three hours. That means anything that makes you... you, your memories, your likes, your dislikes, your hobbies... they’d be gone. You wouldn’t even be able to communicate with me."

"But my spirit would be in it!"

"We don’t even know if 'spirits' are real or not," he said, matter-of-fact.

"Well, let’s say they do exist in this instance, then!"

Law shook his head and actually gave a little smile! He tried to hide it with his hand, but you had already seen it. "In that case, well, I suppose I could at least make sure you're safe and cared for." He said. "Until you inevitably die, anyway. Worms only live, what, two to seven years?"

You sighed and threw yourself onto his lap before kissing him, "It would be so boring to be your pet," you mumbled then. "But at least that’s better than being left to die, right? Now get your ass to bed and sleep with me, or else I'll keep asking stupid questions until the sun rises."

[VALENTINO]

The TV flickered with some loud, overproduced game show neither of you was really paying attention to. Valentino was sprawled across the couch like he owned it with one arm draped behind you, eyes half-lidded beneath his sunglasses.

"Hey, Val," you said.

"Hm?" he acknowledged you, but still kept looking at the TV.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

That got his attention. Valentino then turned, scowling as if you’d personally insulted his entire bloodline. "What the fuck? What kind of fuckass question is that?"

"Just answer it!"

"How am I supposed to love a worm?" He said, "I can't even fuck it."

"Wow, really romantic, you asshole," you punched his arm, scowling. Of course, this would be his answer. "I'm about to fall in love again. Don't you think of anything but your dick?"

"Oh, shut it," Valentino laughed, unbothered, clearly entertained by your irritation, and pulled you closer. "Now, come here. I've got a better use for that smart mouth of yours."

[VOX]

Vox was in his office, handling some paperwork, when you decided to bother him. Or else he wouldn’t give you any attention, after all, that damn workaholic.

Holographic screens hovered around his desk, scrolling contracts, approval ratings, and analytics at a speed no normal person could follow. At least, you knew you couldn't. His fingers tapped sharply against the glass surface of his desk, claws clicking in irritation every time something didn’t align exactly the way he wanted.

You cleared your throat and said, “Hey, Vox,” and sat on his desk.

“What is it?” the other huffed, and you watched as his frown got even deeper. And you hadn’t even irritated him yet!

You swung your legs lazily, smiling to yourself. “So, I’ve got a question,” you said, and took the pen out of his hand, causing a sharp, offended “Hey!” to come out from him. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“...Really?” The man gave you a deadpan look. “This was the thing you wanted to ask me?”

You nodded enthusiastically, hands folded behind your back. “Yes, darling. Now answer the question!”

He stared at you for a long moment, clearly already defeated by your nonsense. Well, he knew you wouldn't be leaving him alone to do his job until you were satisfied, after all!

“Sure.” He said then and leaned back in his chair. “I would love you even if you were an ugly, squirmy little bug. I would get you a gold enclosure, live feed, and even a wheel to run around. Happy?”

“How the fuck is a worm supposed to run in a wheel?”

"....Really? That is the part that bothers you?"

[VELVETTE]

Velvette was perched at her desk, editing videos for her next Voxtagram post, and going through hundreds of different filters to choose the 'perfect' one. You plopped down beside her and, with a mischievous grin, asked, "Hey, Velvette. Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

She groaned, already exasperated, her eyes never leaving the screen. "Really? You are going to ask me that? Cringe."

"Just answer the damn question!"

Velvette snorted and kept typing. "Well, clearly, no," she said. "Duh. How the fuck am I supposed to love a worm? They’re slimy, and wiggly, and...ugh." She made a face of pure disgust. "I’d probably just crush you under my feet."

"God, you’re horrible!" you exclaimed, looking betrayed, and lightly shoved her away.

The other laughed. "What? Was I supposed to lie?"

[VALENTINO]

Steam curled lazily toward the ceiling, clinging to the tiles. Your muscles finally began to loosen as you settled into the tub, heat seeping into your skin when Valentino appeared at the door.

You huffed, admittedly a bit annoyed.

He didn’t knock again.

He never did.

"Ohh, Mamacita!" the man said, looking you up and down, grinning, clearly not at all bothered by your annoyance, "you look so damn hot flushed like that. Didn't know steam could look this good. Or is it because it's you? Should I get my camera?"

"Don't you even dare!" you warned him, and sank even deeper into the water.

"Okay, okay," He laughed. "Then let me join you at the very least. Then maybe we can do something fun later, hm?"

"Now that sounds like a plan," you said, amused despite yourself, and watched as Valentino got undressed. The man clearly liked having your gaze on him and gave you a little show before approaching your side.

He sat at the tub, wings twitching slightly, and touched the water before hissing in pain, "What the fuck?!" he screamed and pulled away his hand. "What the fuck is this? Are you trying to cook yourself or something?"

You laughed, serves him right. "I think the water is just fine! Don't be a baby and get in!"

"This is fine?!" he said, aghast, and stared at the tub as if it had personally offended him somehow. "Your flesh is about to fall off your damn bones with how hot it is! You're really a crazy bitch, aren't you? Fuck."

You tilted your head, amused as hell, resting your chin against the edge of the tub. "So you really are not going to join me?"

He scoffed and turned away, his good mood clearly ruined and ready to leave for bed. "Hell no. Have fun getting boiled in there."

[VOX]

“Vox?” you said, leaning against the doorframe, smiling, “wanna take a shower together?”

He glanced up from his tablet, one eyebrow flickering into static for half a second.

“Sure,” he had said after a beat. “I’ve gotta clean up a little before my meeting at 10:30 anyway.”

You got into the bathroom first, got naked, and went under the shower just the way you liked it. The water was piping hot; comfortably, blissfully scalding. Steam bloomed almost instantly, crawling up the walls and fogging the mirror until you couldn't even see your own reflection. You hummed as you washed your hair, shoulders loosening as the heat burned into your skin.

The door slid open a moment later.

“What the fuck?” Vox said. He tilted his head slightly, his screen flickering as some lines scrolled across it. “And why does my thermal readout say....” He squinted his eyes. “51.8 degrees Celsius?! That water is half on its way to the boiling point!”

“No, no, it's fine as it is!” you assured him, peeking through the curtain. “It feels great! Come on, get in!”

“You are red as hell,” Vox said flatly. “It’s like a sauna in here! There is no way in hell I’m getting in there!”

“Aww, I wanted to wash each other’s back!” you pouted, laying it on thick.

Instead of being swayed, Vox pinched the bridge of where his nose would be.

“I should install heat limiters here,” he muttered. “This is inhuman, even for you. Get some cold water in there before you pass out or something!”

“Don’t be a coward,” you shot back. “It’s just a bit of water. You won’t die. And didn't you say you had internal cooling fans, anyway?"

“For fuck's sake..!” Vox cursed under his breath, then he reached in, grabbed the valve, and hissed as if he’d just touched a branding iron, then turned it sharply.

Cold water flooded in insantly.

“No!” you yelped. “You’re ruining it, Vox!”

“I thought you wanted me to get in, too?” the other huffed and stepped under the spray once the temperature dropped to something his systems deemed non-lethal. “Make some room for me. And for your information, it'll be on you if I short-circuit!"

[VELVETTE]

You were supposed to get ready for the next show, but nerves had you jittery, so you decided to take a quick shower to relax before you actually threw up on the stage.

Thankfully, as soon as you stepped under the warm water, your muscles unclenched, and you felt yourself melt into the soothing heat.

That’s when Velvette barged in.

"Where the fuck have you been-" she started, but her words died in her throat as she noticed the steam curling through the bathroom and the water temperature you’d set to absolute hellfire.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" she demanded, glaring at you as if your shower were a personal affront. "You’re seriously standing under boiling hot water right before my show? What the fuck?! You know you’re going to wear my centerpiece!"

"Calm down, Velvette," you rolled your eyes. She could be so dramatic sometimes. "I’m coming out in five minutes anyway."

"I’ve told you a hundred times to stop doing this!" she shot back, waving her arms like she wanted to smack you. Well, that would have to wait after the show if she didn't want her model to be covered in bruises. "Do you know what this does to your pores? Are you trying to ruin your skin? This is a crime against aesthetics!"

"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, ignoring her as you lathered shampoo into your hair.

Velvette wasn’t letting up, however. Well, it was good for her to get it all out of her system, you suppose. "God, your hair already looks so frizzy and damaged! And you’re as red as a damn beetroot, too! Turn it down, now! How the fuck am I supposed to perfect your look when you’re boiling your body like this every chance you get?!"

"Okay, okay!" you huffed, finally stepping back from the scalding stream. "I’m coming out now!"

[Derrick Eckhart]

Derrick had really pissed you off today. From the moment you arrived at the meeting table next to him, he had been insufferable. Constantly shushing you like a child whenever you tried to speak about matters concerning the dukedom. He’d even gone as far as pushing you aside, as if you were too insignificant, almost as if you were too illiterate to understand the conversation, to be involved in such important discussions. His dismissiveness had crawled under your skin more than usual, too. You didn’t appreciate being treated like that, as if you were a child. Not by anyone, and definitely not by him, either. So, in that moment, you decided to take matters into your own hands… in the most petty way possible, of course.

Dinner was winding down, and the only sounds that filled the room were the clinking of cutlery and the occasional murmur from the servants. Derrick was sitting across from you, eyes focused on his plate, looking as dignified and composed as always. Too composed, in fact, always so rigid as if he were getting evaluated by an invisible crowd every second of his life.

He was so focused on the meal, so oblivious to your mounting frustration, that you couldn’t help but feel a little... playful.

You waited for the perfect moment, when the maids left the room to exchange their shifts, so no one was there, and said, “I feel like if you were in the omegaverse, you would be an omega.”

You said it very nonchalantly, too, as if it were the most normal dinner table conversation topic.

At first, he said nothing, but you saw the way Derrick’s fork froze mid-bite. His lips twitched, and his right eye, just the tiniest bit, twitched with tension. He hadn’t said anything, but you could see the way he was struggling to keep his composure.

You smirked and took a sip from your tea, feeling the first flicker of satisfaction.

Derrick knew exactly what you were talking about, and he hated the fact that he knew it, too. After all, he’d spent months trying to stop you from reading those romance novels. He’d called them “tacky,” “lowbrow,” and “something a lady from a prominent family shouldn't even touch.” But no matter how many times he tried to convince you to stop, you always went back to those books, hiding them away from the servants so they wouldn’t gossip. That was more to appease him than you feeling shame, of course, and getting him to shut up about your reading preferences already.

“I don’t know how to explain,” you continued, leaning onto the chair, resting your chin on your hand, and making sure you had his full attention. “But you definitely give off omega energy, you know? You just have that vibe. So demure, and—”

“Stop with this nonsense.” Derrick interrupted, then, and his hand moved to his temples, as though he already had a headache coming on.

It was adorable, and downright comical, how quickly you could get under his skin.

“This is completely inappropriate and, frankly, a frivolous thing to say. Couldn’t you have found something else to talk about, rather than your… insipid little stories, and involving,” he grimaced, just the thought of it seemed to make him physically hurt, “me in them?”

“I could,” you said, and smirked as you leaned a little closer. “But I won’t. Because I want you to suffer.”

Derrick raised an eyebrow to that, then, clearly having no idea what had gotten under your skin today. That, to be honest, pissed you off a bit more. “And why is that, may I ask?”

You crossed your arms and puffed out your cheeks. You knew you were exaggerating it, but you didn't care. He deserved it. “Maybe because of how you disregarded everything I said today? Especially in front of all those men?”

His jaw tightened when he heard that. So he knew what he did was wrong.

Good.

“You made me feel disrespected, Derrick, and supposedly you're my partner. And despite that, I still didn’t argue with you in front of them. Now you have to pay for it.”

His gaze dropped to his tea, and for a second, you wondered if he’d refuse to even engage about this matter, or worse, dismiss your feelings like he often did. But then he sighed and said, “I suppose I can get… dismissive from time to time. Hurting your feelings was not my intention. I’ll be more mindful from now on.”

Well, this was the closest apology you would get, so you might as well take it.

“Good,” you said, and leaned back on your chair with a satisfied smile. “Or else I’ll have to bring up the omegaverse at the next function and teach all the other ladies what alpha, beta, and omega mean!”

Derrick gave a defeated sigh and went back to his dinner.

[Reynold Eckhart]

You were a bit bored, and since Reynold was just sitting there, stuffing his mouth with macarons and sipping tea, you decided to mess with him a bit. After all, he was your fiancé, and it was your God-given right to cause chaos now that you two would soon unite your lives together, anyway.

So, without much thought, you got his attention and said, "Reynold?"

"Hmm? What is it?"

“I feel like if you were in the omegaverse, you would be an omega.”

In that moment, the other decided choke on his drink and almost die. Well, he did know what those words meant, after all, and the stories you loved to read so much! He sputtered, coughing so loud that the whole mansion shook, and he clutched the edge of the table for dear life as he tried to get rid of the sweet that was stuck in his throat.

His face turned an alarming shade of red, too, almost like your maroon red lipstick, and you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of delight.

This was exactly the reaction you had wanted to see.

"W-what?!" managed to gasp at some point.

After making sure he really wasn't about to pass out, too, you leaned back in your chair and tried to suppress the grin tugging at your lips and looked thoughtful. “A cute one at that, too!” you added sweetly, just to seal the deal.

“Haa?! What the hell are you saying out of nowhere?!” he screamed, and slammed his hands on the table so hard his drink spilled all over the place. “Me? An omega? Are you out of your mind? I’m obviously an Alpha—”

You snorted when you heard that, and saw how Reynold regretted ever opening his big mouth and tried to backtrack.

"So you admit, you know what omegaverse is!"

“No, not that nonsense, I mean, I've got no idea what you're talking about, okay, I just—ugh!”

"And you honestly think you would be an Alpha?" You teased him further, watching him with great amusement as his face got even redder and redder if that was even possible. "I'm sorry to say this, Reynold, but the only Alpha in this room would be me!"

You?!" He said, mouth agape. That thought, it seemed, never even had crossed his mind. "Why the hell would it be you?!"

You put your hand over your heart, feigning shock at his lack of awareness. “Just look at me,” you said, full of confidence. “Do I even need to explain? I’d make a great Alpha. Strong, assertive, and bold… while you,” you let your eyes drift up and down his form playfully, checking him out and making him squirm a bit. “would be my cute little Omega.”

"What's that supposed to mean?! You think I'm weak or something?"

You shrugged and, with the most straight face, said, "I wouldn't say that, but... You definitely look breedable."

For a moment, Reynold was at a loss for words and just stared at you, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. His brain seemed to short-circuit, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to comprehend what the hell you had just said.

You took this moment to leave the room. You had caused enough disarray for the day, after all. “Okay, now. I’ll see you later, Reynold. I need to meet with Miss Ellen and the ladies this afternoon. We’re going to decide who’ll host the next tea party, you know?”

Reynold, of course, didn't even wait until you reached the door before demanding answers from you, “Wait, Y/N!” he yelled. Gosh, he sounded so agitated, it was adorable! “What the heck did you mean by ‘breedable’?! You mean I’m unmanly or something?! Y/N! Come here and explain!”

Yup. This turned out to be much more fun than you had expected.

[Callisto Regulus]

You were sprawled across the bed as you leisurely snacked on some crackers. The soft rustling of pages filled the quiet room as you read one of those “dirty books” of yours that Callisto loved to tease you about. You knew he was always giving you a hard time for reading those, but you couldn't help it. Sometimes, it was just nice to lose yourself in a fantasy.

The room door creaked open, and Callisto finally returned from his late-night meeting, groaning as he stepped inside. His crisp military uniform was still perfectly intact, his red cape draped elegantly over his broad shoulders. He hated that thing. Then, he closed the door behind him with a soft thud, and his eyes immediately caught yours from across the room.

"You’re still up? I thought you would have been asleep by now."

He sounded a bit more tired than usual, but still got that playful glint in his eyes when he saw you.

You didn’t respond immediately, still half-lost in your book and the salty taste of the crackers. You did not know what got into you, but as if you had gotten possessed by a mischievous fae, you blurted out, "I feel like if you were in the omegaverse, you would be an omega."

Callisto stared at you, his golden eyes narrowing in confusion, then widening in realization when he understood what you had meant. A wicked grin spread across his face, and he leaned against the door frame, playful and suddenly not so tired anymore.

"Yeah?" he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "You think so?"

Then, before you could even open your mouth to respond, he shot forward with such speed that you barely had time to react. "C-Callisto?! What are you doing?"

He practically threw himself onto the bed beside you, not even bothering to undress, still wearing his uniform, the buttons straining at his broad chest. The fabric seemed to make him look even more dashing, as if he were some kind of emperor in a romance novel you admittedly loved so much. But then again, Callisto always looked good, no matter what he wore.

"Does that mean you want... a child?" Oh, he looked so smug. "Maybe a couple, even?"

"Wha-!" You didn’t even have time to finish your sentence before Callisto kissed you, silencing any further protest you might have had.

"You know those guys in your stories...they get three or four babies at a time, right?" He said thoughtfully, actually excited about the idea of having an army of babies. "What did they call them? Cubs?" He placed another kiss on your neck, his hands moving to pull you closer. "Do you want some cubs of our own, love? We can do it right now!"

A small laugh escaped your lips as you tried to push him away. “Callisto, wait!” you gasped between laughter, unable to contain the amusement bubbling inside you. His lips wasted no time and moved down to your collarbone, however, and the heat of his breath sent a shiver through you. "You just want an excuse to do it, don't you, you dog?"

[Winter Verdandi]

It was a quiet evening in the manor. The kids had long since been tucked into bed, making the place finally quiet. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the room, and you were curled up on the sofa with a book, enjoying the moment.

Winter was across from you as well, his attention entirely focused on a strange, shimmering object he had found somewhere and brought home earlier that day. It looked like a small, enchanted device, glowing softly as he tinkered with it, trying to figure out its purpose.

You couldn’t resist the urge to mess with him a little.

"Winter?" You called, glancing up over the top of your book.

He didn’t look up immediately, his hands continuing to work over the object. “Yes?”

“I feel like if you were in the omegaverse, you would be an omega.” You said it casually, eyes flicking back to the pages of your story, trying to keep your expression neutral while feeling a little mischievous.

Winter didn't say anything at first, and you waited in anticipation. His hands hovered over the glowing object as he slowly lifted his head to look at you, a furrow appearing between his brows. "I’m… afraid I don’t understand." He said, then. He even tilted his head, clearly confused. “Is that a cultural metaphor?”

You nearly choked on your drink when you heard that. The way he said it, so earnestly and with no trace of sarcasm, made you burst out laughing uncontrollably. "Dear lord, Winter! A cultural metaphor? You're going to kill me!" You said as you wiped some tears off your eyes. But, to be fair, you should have guessed he wouldn't get what you said; he was a true old soul, after all, and didn't follow the current trends at all, let alone what some young ladies preferred to read all alone in their bedroom in secret these days!

He just watched you, blinking a few more times, utterly perplexed by your reaction. “Is it... a bad thing?” He asked cautiously, then, clearly trying to piece together what he’d missed.

Yup. He was truly trying to get you into an early grave. How could someone be this endearing, really?

"Of course not, love," you said, and placed a kiss on his cheek with a playful smile. "It means that, well... you're very gentle, kind, and so lovable." You kissed him again. On the lips this time. "And totally my type, yeah."

"Oh, is that so?" He said, and even though he still looked a little clueless, he returned your smile. "I'm glad you see me that way, then."

Gosh, you really loved this man.

[Eckles Khan Delman]

It had gotten dark, and you lay there on the bed beside Eckles, who was barely awake, his breathing slow and steady, his face relaxed. He was pressed against you, so close, in fact, it was as if he wanted to see if he could merge with you and become one. He had always been so clingy, constantly searching for your touch, and you loved it.

You glanced down at him and saw that his grey eyes were closed. He looked sleepy and peaceful.

"You know," you said, and got his attention, "I feel like if you were in the omegaverse, you would be an omega."

At your words, Eckles didn’t immediately respond. He simply hummed low in his throat, as if he had heard you but wasn’t fully awake yet. Then, slowly, he shifted, resting his head on your stomach, his soft breath tickling your skin. His eyes opened just enough to meet yours, and you immediately saw that glint in them.

"Mates forever, then?" he asked, then he grabbed your hand and kissed the knuckles gently, his lips brushing your skin in a way that made your heart flutter. "You'll never leave me?"

This made you laugh. This possessive man. "You're really unbelievable sometimes, Eckles," you said, brushing your fingers through his tousled hair. "Do you love the idea of never being apart that much?"

That got you one of those smiles he rarely showed. Ohh, he knew what he was doing, didn't he?

"Alpha..." he said, dragging out the word in that voice of his, so sweet and yet so needy. He knew how to sound pathetic, just in the way that made your heart race. You hadn't even known you were into this before meeting him.

"Can we bond, then?" He asked, then, as he went down and got between your legs. "Please, Alpha, let's do it. Take me, and make me yours, hm? I need you so much."

Really, this man...!

[Cedrick Porter]

One afternoon, while the two of you were lounging in the study, you decided to throw out a comment just to see what would happen. It was one of those impulsive, “just messing around” moments. You leaned back in your chair, glanced over at Cedrick, and with an innocent grin, said, "You know what, Cedrick? I feel like if you were in the omegaverse, you would make a great omega."

He paused mid-task, his glasses glinting in the light as he adjusted them with one hand. He looked at you for a moment, brow furrowing in that way he did when he was processing something. And then, just like that, he launched into a full info-dumping session.

“Did you know the general alpha/beta/omega names come from the research of a famous scientist into wolf behavior, Ruphel Shamkel, who coined the terms for the behavior of wolves in captive groups?” he began, his tone already shifting into the slightly too academic, textbook mode. “According to his initial research, Alphas are usually the highest rank in the dominance hierarchy, fighting alphas, by growling, snarling, posturing, and spreading pheromones, sometimes even biting, over territory, and even pack members...”

You blinked, and your grin faltered a bit. What the hell? You had been hoping for a quick and teasing comment, but now you were sitting there, fully unprepared for an impromptu lesson on the origins of the omegaverse.

“Betas are subordinate to Alphas in the dominance hierarchy if included; however, this element is absent from a lot of fan works in practice, apparently," Cedrick continued, seemingly unaware of your growing confusion as to why your nerdy boyfriend even knew all of this. "Betas don’t tend to get into territorial disputes or snarl-offs like alphas, and they may be the peacemakers between other pack members. They may be more independent, separate from pack life, or the glue that holds the pack together. They tend to take a supporting or following role, often cooling down an alpha’s temper and supporting omegas. They also make good workers.”

"Uhh..."

“Omegas, on the other hand, are usually separate from the dominance hierarchy socially, being considered those whom alphas fight against each other to protect, without an expectation of submitting in a social hierarchy in the same sense.” Cedrick looked down at his papers for a moment but still kept talking, clearly immersed in the topic. “He tried to debunk it later and say that wolf packs are family units, not dominance pyramids, but it was too late. The general public loved the whole idea too much, and they turned it into this... fiction trend soon after!”

"Wow....I didn't know that," you said. "Poor guy. Now he'll be known as the omega man forever."

Then, Cedrick added, “Though his research was indeed a failure, you could say that this concept is at least an interesting writing device to be used to talk about gender issues and different hypothetical and real social dynamics, right?"

"I suppose so," you said, then asked. "By the way, Cedrick, how do you even know all of this?"

"I have a colleague who decided to write an academic paper about this topic recently." He revealed. "Thanks to her, I got to read a few interesting ones, too, you know? Not exactly to my taste, honestly, but it was a...unique perspective to see nonetheless, I suppose."

And that made your brain freeze. There were scholars in the palace who just got up from bed one day and decided to write about fanfiction? And the Empress was just okay with it? Was this even reality?