You heard a gravely voice mutter, and before you could even process that he was awake, you attempted to cut his neck, one of his hands grabbing your wrist right before.

Your other hand came up, attempting to remove his hand before you felt the sheer circumference of his arm— thick, veiny, strong forearms holding you in place.

“Let me go.”

You muttered, attempting to get his arm off of you before he quickly leaned over you, pinning you with his own sword to your throat.

You felt the cold metal against your skin, saw his imposing figure above you, making your breathing quicken just slightly. He smelled of iron.

“You’re not exactly in the right position to argue with me.”

He muttered, in that same, annoying tone that made your brows furrow.

You weren’t necessarily scared, just annoyed. Getting caught like this was embarrassing. And to some stinky rookie with some measly bounty of 120 million berries. Embarrassing. You were trained better for this.

“Kill me.”

You said bluntly, your breathing heavy as you looked up at him.

“Huh.”

He said, now smiling down at you, letting out a chuckle. Your lips pursed, wondering why he hadn’t just killed you yet.

“Ya sound a lot like me, y’know that? Not that I would let myself get caught like this.”

You didn’t know how to respond, your heart rate spiked, your hands clutching onto the grass on the ship— he didn’t seem like he was holding any malice for you, so why did you still feel so scared?

Zoro paused before sheathing his sword, one of his hands casually moving up to rest right below your heartbeat.

“I don’t even have my sword out anymore.”

He muttered, his calloused fingers resting over your heartbeat, his thumb rubbing the skin there. Your breathing had grown heavier.

“Hey.”

He said bluntly, making you glance up at him.

“This doesn’t feel like much of a conversation with me being the only one talking. I’m not going to hurt you. My captain would be mad at me anyways.”

You nodded, attempting to calm your breathing, your hand moving up to his forearm, just reaching for something to grab onto.

And he let you, surprisingly, continuing to look down at you.

“Why?”

“Told you.”

He muttered, readjusting himself so he wasn’t imposing himself upon you as much.

“My captain would be mad.”

His captain didn’t say anything about you spending the night in zoros room, though.

“Hey, hey—!”

You were currently backing ace into a corner, him avoiding your slices until you end up making a small cut on his cheek, a pang going through your chest.

You did feel just a bit bad, maybe it was the way he looked at you like you weren’t dangerous? Like you were a genuine flesh and blood person?

And he caught it. The hesitance in your stance, the way your eyes widened slightly when your blade cut skin.

He’d been holding back on you because he just thought you were the prettiest person he’d encountered at sea, and this just made him even more intrigued.

“You don’t have to do thi—“

“Shut up!”

You barked, nearly panting as you pinned him against the wall, hesitating on your last mark.

He tried to ignore how his pants got a little tighter at the rawness of your voice, his own breath hitching a little bit.

He put his hands on your arms, guiding the weapons out of his face.

“Just—“

His hands were warm against your skin, making you relax a bit more. Just slightly.

“Was that so hard?”

You nodded petulantly, attempting to get another hit on him.

He caught your wrist instantly, flashing you a smile.

“Aw cmon, we’re past that now. I don’t even know your name, and you’re tryna kill me.”

He leaned in a bit closer, his dark eyes meeting yours as his free hand came to your waist.

“Just give me a chance, okay?”

And damn him for being so convincing.

The first thing Eddie notices is the way you fit here. Not like you belong to the faire, no, that would be too small of a statement. You look like you stepped out of a story someone forgot to finish writing.

Leather boots worn just enough, a loose white blouse tucked into a corset that laces tight at your waist.

Rings on your fingers that glint when you move, and a sash slung low on your hips where a prop dagger rests like it’s been there your whole life.

Your DnD character: exiled princess turned pirate captain. And somehow, standing under the flutter of striped banners and the distant crash of staged cannon fire, you make it look real.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters beside you.

You glance at him. “What?”

He shakes his head like he’s rebooting. “Nothing. Just, uh. You look…” He gestures vaguely, like words have abandoned him. “Yeah.”

Helpful.

You snort. “You clean up alright yourself, Munson.” And he does. God, he does.

Black poet shirt, sleeves shoved to his elbows. A belt slung low with a fake cutlass. Rings, of course, and a bandana tied around his hair like he belongs on the deck of some cursed ship.

He grins, recovering. “Careful, sweetheart. You keep talking like that, I’ll start thinking you’re into me.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers too long to be casual. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Behind you, the rest of Hellfire erupts.

“YO—BIRTHDAY GIRL!” Gareth yells, already halfway to some game booth.

Jeff is holding a turkey leg like it’s a weapon. Dustin is arguing with a vendor about historically accurate dragons. Mike looks overwhelmed. Lucas is laughing at all of them.

It’s chaos. Perfect, familiar chaos. And Eddie leans closer to you, voice dropping just enough to be heard only by you. “Your court awaits, Captain.”

You bump your shoulder into his. “Walk with me, then.”

The faire is loud in the best way; music drifting through the air, boots crunching gravel, performers shouting, people laughing, somewhere a fiddle playing too fast.

You spend hours like that.

Sword fighting demonstrations where Eddie loudly critiques everyone’s technique like he’s an expert (he is not), shouting things like “WRIST WORK, MAN, IT’S ALL IN THE WRIST,” while you try, and fail, not to laugh. At one point, he grabs your hand to “demonstrate,” stepping behind you, guiding your wrist with his.

“See? You’d totally win in a duel,” he says, voice low near your ear.

You tilt your head back just enough to glance at him. “Are you saying that because it’s true or because it’s my birthday?”

“Both,” he says easily. “But mostly because I’m trying to stay on your good side in case you overthrow the monarchy again.”

You snort, but you don’t pull your hand away right away.

A fortune teller who tells you something cryptic about “two paths becoming one,” which Eddie absolutely does not let go of.

“Two paths,” he repeats, walking backwards in front of you as you move through the crowd. “Becoming one. Sounds familiar.”

“Oh, my god.”

“I’m just saying, kinda feels like foreshadowing.”

“It feels like you’re being annoying on purpose.”

He grins. “Working?”

You shove his shoulder. He barely stumbles, just laughs, reaching out to steady you instead like you’re the one who needs it.

There's a 100% rigged ring toss that he insists on winning anyway because he refuses to lose on your birthday. You’re standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching him absolutely lock in like this is life or death.

“Eddie,” you call, laughing, “it’s literally plastic rings.”

“Not today,” he shoots back. “Today it’s about honor.”

“You missed the last three!”

“THAT WAS A WARM-UP.”

The vendor looks unimpressed. You’re trying not to double over. Then miraculously, he lands one. And the way he turns to you after, eyes wide, arms thrown up like he just won a championship…You clap dramatically.

“My hero!”

“Damn right,” he says, breathless, already grabbing the prize like it’s something sacred. He hands you the prize, a cheap, gold-painted ring, and slides it onto your finger with exaggerated reverence.

“For the captain,” he says.

You grin. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Only for you, though.”

Because before you can even respond:

“OH, MY GOD.”

Dustin appears out of nowhere like a summoned entity, eyes locked onto your hand.

“Is that a ring?”

Mike’s right behind him. “Did he just—?”

“DID YOU JUST PROPOSE?” Gareth shouts, already halfway doubled over laughing.

Eddie physically recoils. “WHAT, no! Jesus Christ—”

Jeff snorts. “Man really said ‘for the captain’ and got down on one knee.”

“I DID NOT GET DOWN ON ONE KNEE.”

“You basically did,” Dustin says, pointing aggressively.

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh as Eddie turns to you like you’ve betrayed him.

“Why are you smiling? You’re supposed to defend my honor right now.”

“My honor?” you repeat, raising a brow.

“Yeah, as your loyal, uh, subject. Crew member. Whatever.”

“Mm,” you hum, inspecting the ring like it’s incredibly serious. “I don’t know. I think it was pretty romantic.”

The group loses it.

“OH MY GOD, SHE LIKES IT—”

Eddie groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate all of you. I take it back. No more birthday. It’s canceled.”

“Too late,” Gareth says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You’re in love.”

“I am NOT—” He cuts himself off so fast it’s almost impressive. Because now everyone’s looking at him, you included.

“—taking shit,” he finishes weakly. “With this absolute menace of a group.”

“Coward,” you murmur under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Alright, alright,” Dustin claps his hands together, immediately pivoting. “Birthday quest.”

You blink. “My what?”

“Every great hero needs a quest,” he says, as if this is obvious. “And since you’re—” he gestures at your outfit, “—clearly the main character today—”

“Finally, someone said it,” Eddie mutters.

“—We are assigning one.”

“Oh no,” Mike says. “This is going to be bad.”

“It’s going to be epic,” Dustin corrects. “Objective: acquire the finest treasure in all the land.”

“What does that even mean?” Lucas asks.

Dustin turns, pointing dramatically across the faire. “That.”

You follow his finger. A booth, a very crowded booth. With a massive, ridiculous stuffed dragon hanging overhead as the grand prize.

You laugh immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Eddie cracks his knuckles. “Absolutely yes.”

“You saw the line, right?”

“I also saw my competition,” he says confidently. “And I’m not impressed.”

“You missed three rings ten minutes ago.”

“That was a different sport,” he shoots back. “Different skill set.”

“Uh-huh.”

He leans closer, lowering his voice just for you. “You doubtin’ your champion, Captain?”

You raise a brow. “You haven’t proven yourself yet.”

“Wow,” he breathes, placing a hand over his heart. “Wounded. Devastated, even.”

“Then go win me something,” you say, smiling sweetly. And that’s it, challenge accepted. 

What follows is a disaster, for lack of better terms.  A loud, chaotic, hilarious disaster. The entire group crowds around the booth, shouting conflicting advice.

“USE MORE FORCE—”

“LESS FORCE—”

“YOU’RE OVERCORRECTING—”

“JUST THROW THE THING—”

Eddie misses. Again. And again. And again.

He turns slowly. “I need new friends.”

“You chose us,” Gareth reminds him.

“Biggest mistake of my life.”

You’re laughing so hard your stomach hurts, leaning into the wooden railing for support. At some point, Eddie looks over at you, and his expression softens.

“Hey,” he calls.

You meet his eyes. “Yeah?”

He nods toward the game. “Watch this.”

“You’ve said that every time.”

“And this time I mean it.”

You grin. “Alright, Munson. Impress me.”

He lines it up, throws, and lands it, clean. The group erupts.

“NO WAY—”

“HE DID IT—”

“OH MY GOD—”

Eddie just stands there for a second, staring at it like he doesn’t believe it either. Then he turns to you. That same stupid, boyish, so proud of himself grin spreading across his face.

“Told you,” he says.

Your smile softens without you meaning it to. “Yeah,” you say. “You did.”

He comes back a few minutes later, slightly out of breath, holding the most obnoxiously large stuffed dragon you’ve ever seen.

“Your treasure, Captain.”

You laugh. “Eddie, it’s huge.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Felt right.”

You take it from him, arms barely wrapping around it.

“Thank you,” you say, quieter now.

“Anything for you,” he replies, just as soft.

And the group immediately starts making gagging noises.

“UGH—”

“DISGUSTING—”

“GET A ROOM—”

Eddie flips them off without looking.

“Alright,” Eddie says suddenly, clapping his hands once like he’s got a mission. “I’m getting a drink before I pass out in medieval agony.”

“Beer?” Gareth perks up immediately.

“Beer,” Eddie confirms.

Gareth’s already moving. “Say less.”

Eddie starts after him, then pauses, glancing back at you like he almost forgot something important.

“You good?” he asks.

You nod, adjusting your grip on the giant stuffed dragon. “Yeah, go.”

He hesitates, eyes flicking between you and the crowd like he’s debating something.

Then he points at Dustin. “Watch her.”

Dustin straightens immediately. “I always do.”

Eddie squints at him. “…That didn’t sound reassuring.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

You laugh. “Go get your beer, Munson.”

He huffs, but he’s smiling, already backing away. “Don’t let her join another crew while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” you call after him.

He points at you like he doesn’t trust that at all, then disappears into the crowd with Gareth.

You and Dustin fall into step together, weaving through people a little slower now. For a minute, he doesn’t say anything, which is suspicious.

You glance at him. “What?”

He looks up at you like he’s been waiting for that. “So.”

You groan immediately. “No.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You were about to.”

“I was about to ask a perfectly reasonable question.”

“Dustin.”

“Okay, fine,” he says, not even trying to sound innocent. “What’s going on with you and Eddie?”

You keep walking. Very focused on walking.

“Nothing,” you say.

He snorts. “Right.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, stronger this time.

“Yeah, okay, and I’m the king of England.”

You shoot him a look. “You’re literally fifteen.”

“Sixteen,” he corrects. “And also correct.”

You shake your head, trying not to smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you didn’t answer the question.”

“There’s nothing to answer.”

Dustin stops walking.

You take two more steps before realizing, then turn back. “What are you doing?”

He crosses his arms. “I’m not moving until you stop lying to me.”

You stare at him. “I’m not lying.”

He raises a brow.

You sigh. “Dustin—”

“I’ve known Eddie for, like, years,” he says, suddenly more serious. “I’ve never seen him act like that.”

Your chest tightens a little. “Like what?”

“Like you single-handedly molded the Earth and all it’s creation,” he says simply.

You blink. “That’s dramatic.”

“It’s accurate,” he shoots back. “He literally almost fought a guy earlier because he looked at you for too long.”

“What?”

“Okay, not fought,” Dustin amends. “But there was definitely a moment.”

You try to picture it. Eddie, getting weirdly protective. Eddie, hovering. Eddie, looking at you like that.

“…He’s just, Eddie,” you say, a little weaker now.

Dustin softens, just a bit. “Yeah. He is.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice like he’s sharing classified information.

“But he doesn’t look at anyone else like that.”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the plush dragon.

“Not even close.”

You look away first. Because that feels like too much, because you don’t trust your face not to give you away. Dustin watches you for a second.

“…You like him,” he says.

It’s not a question. You let out a slow breath. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m right.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Still right.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling now; small, helpless, a little caught.

“That obvious?” you murmur.

Dustin grins. “Painfully.”

You laugh under your breath, glancing out at the crowd where Eddie disappeared.

“…Yeah,” you admit quietly. “Okay. Maybe a little.”

Dustin lights up like he just won something. “I KNEW IT!”

“Keep your voice down!” you hiss, swatting his arm.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, absolutely not sorry. “Does he know?”

You hesitate.

“…No.”

Dustin makes a face like that’s criminal.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I just…what if I’m wrong? What if I say something and it ruins everything?”

Dustin stares at you like you’ve just said the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.

“You are wrong,” he says.

Your stomach drops. “Wow, okay.”

“You’re wrong because he’s already gone for you,” he interrupts. “Like, gone gone. There’s no ruining it. It’s already ruined.”

You blink. “…That’s not reassuring.”

“It’s supposed to be,” he insists. “I’m saying you can’t mess it up because he’s already…” he gestures wildly, “ …like that.”

You huff a laugh despite yourself. “Like that?”

“Yeah. Like a loser. About you.”

You smile, you can’t help it. “…He is kind of a loser.”

“The biggest,” Dustin agrees. You both laugh.

“…Don’t tell him I said anything,” you add.

Dustin immediately puts a hand over his heart. “My lips are sealed.”

You narrow your eyes. “Dustin.”

“I mean it!” he pauses, then grins, “…Mostly.”

“Dustin.”

“Okay, okay!” he throws his hands up. “I won’t. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout.”

“Details.”

“Hey!” Eddie’s voice cuts through the crowd as he reappears, Gareth trailing behind him with two drinks already in hand. Eddie’s eyes go straight to you, like they always do.

“There you are,” he says, like he’s been looking.

Dustin glances at you, smug. You elbow him hard before Eddie can see.

“What?” Eddie asks, immediately suspicious.

“Nothing,” you and Dustin say at the exact same time.

Eddie squints. “…I don’t like that.”

He steps closer anyway, holding out one of the cups toward you.

“Peace offering,” he says. “Or, y’know, birthday tribute. Depends how you wanna frame it.”

You take it, your fingers brushing his.

“Wow,” you say, inspecting it like it’s something rare. “My crew finally proves useful.”

He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

You take a sip, then glance at him over the rim. “You didn’t poison it, did you?”

Eddie leans in just a little, voice dropping. “Only a little.”

You raise a brow. “Bold move. Killing your captain on her birthday.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs. “Kinda need you around.”

Your stomach does that annoying little flip again.

“…Yeah?” you say, quieter.

His eyes flick to your lips for half a second before snapping back up. “Yeah.”

There’s a moment. And then:

“OH MY GOD, CAN YOU TWO NOT.”

Gareth. You both jolt apart like you’ve been caught doing something illegal.

“What?” Eddie snaps, turning on him immediately. “We’re literally just standing here.”

“Yeah,” Gareth says, completely unimpressed. “Standing there like you’re about to recreate a romance novel cover.”

Jeff chokes on his drink. Mike and Dustin are visibly trying not to laugh. Lucas is not trying at all.

You bury your face in your cup. “I hate all of you.”

Eddie gestures wildly. “THANK YOU.”

Gareth points between you two. “You handed her a drink like you were presenting her with the Holy Grail.”

“It’s her birthday!”

“And then you leaned in,” Gareth continues, relentless. “And did the whole low voice thing—”

“I did NOT do a ‘low voice thing’!”

“You absolutely did,” Dustin cuts in. “It was like—” he drops his voice into a terrible impression, “‘Only a little.’”

You let out a strangled laugh, immediately covering it with your hand.

Eddie spins to you. “Don’t encourage them!”

“I’m not!” you insist, failing miserably because you’re smiling.

Gareth folds his arms, grinning like he’s having the time of his life. “So what I’m hearing is…you admit there was a vibe.”

“There was NO VIBE.”

“There was a vibe,” Jeff says helpfully.

“There was NOT—”

You take another sip of your drink, trying to play it off, but Gareth clocks the ring again immediately.

“And the ring,” he adds, like it’s evidence in a trial. “Let’s circle back to the ring.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter.

Eddie throws his hands up. “IT WAS A PRIZE.”

“Uh-huh,” Gareth nods. “And the way you put it on her finger?”

“IT WAS FUNNY.”

“Romantic,” Dustin corrects.

“Shut up.”

“Intimate,” Mike adds.

“SHUT UP.”

“Life-altering,” Lucas finishes.

You laugh into your drink, shoulders shaking.

Eddie looks at you like he’s seconds away from betrayal. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” you admit.

He groans. “Unbelievable. I do one nice thing!”

“Oh, you do one nice thing?” you cut in, smiling. “That’s your story?”

He leans closer again without thinking. “For you? I do plenty.”

The group goes dead silent for half a second. Eddie freezes. You freeze. Gareth’s eyes go wide.

“…Oh, that was good,” he whispers, impressed.

Eddie immediately backtracks. “I meant, like, general nice things, I’m a nice guy, I—”

“Yeah,” you say softly, saving him just a little, though your smile is teasing. “You’re a real gentleman, Munson.”

He exhales, relieved, shooting you a quick look like thank you.

“Finally, some recognition.”

“Don’t push it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain.”

Your fingers brush his again as you adjust your grip on the drink.

“Alright,” Gareth claps, like he’s wrapping up a performance. “I’ve seen enough.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Of what?”

“This,” Gareth gestures between you both. “Whatever this is.”

“Nothing,” you and Eddie say at the same time.

Gareth grins. “Sure.”

Dustin nods. “Definitely nothing.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Mike agrees.

Lucas snorts. “Nothing at all.”

Eddie points at all of them. “You’re all dead to me.”

You laugh, leaning slightly into him without thinking.

Gareth watches Eddie’s arm settle at your back, smugly.

“…Nothing,” he repeats under his breath.

Eddie points at him. “Say another word and I’m pushing you into the moat.”

“There is no moat!”

“Don’t test me.”

You laugh, shaking your head, only to feel a sudden tug on your sleeve.

“C’mon,” Dustin says, already pulling you backward.

You stumble a step. “Wait—what—?”

“Emergency,” he insists.

“What kind of emergency involves dragging me away from my drink?”

“The important kind.”

You glance back once, catching Eddie mid-argument with Gareth. His eyes flick to you immediately, and they soften.

“You good?” he calls.

You nod. “Yeah!”

Dustin waves dramatically. “We’re stealing her!”

Eddie frowns. “For what?”

“CLASSIFIED.”

“That’s not reassuring—”

But you’re already being pulled into the crowd, Dustin weaving through people like he’s on a mission.

“Okay,” you say, catching your balance. “Explain.”

Dustin turns, practically vibrating with excitement, and then gestures grandly behind you.

“Behold.”

You turn, and immediately light up.

A storefront packed with DnD merch: dice sets glinting in glass cases, character sheets pinned up like posters, cloaks and accessories hanging from wooden racks, little carved figurines lined up like they’re waiting to be chosen.

“…Oh my god,” you breathe.

“I KNOW,” Dustin says, thrilled with himself.

You step closer without thinking, eyes scanning everything at once.

“This is insane,” you murmur, picking up a set of deep blue dice, turning them in your fingers. “These are gorgeous, look at the detail!”

“So,” he says casually.

You don’t even look up. “If you say ‘Eddie’ right now, I’m leaving.”

“Wow,” he says. “Didn’t even have to try.”

You grin despite yourself, still focused on the display. “You’re predictable.”

“And you’re deflecting.”

“I am browsing.”

“You’re avoiding.”

You glance at him. “I’m doing both.”

He nods like that’s fair. “Okay. Respect.”

You turn back to the table, picking up a small pendant, a compass design, worn-looking, like something a pirate might carry. Your thumb brushes over it absently.

“…It’s just,” Dustin adds, quieter now, “you should know he almost didn’t come today.”

“…What?”

“He said he didn’t want to make it weird,” Dustin shrugs. “Since it’s your birthday. Didn’t want to mess anything up.”

Your chest tightens a little. “He did come,” you say.

“Yeah,” Dustin grins. “Because I told him he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he missed you dressed like that.”

You snort. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m right,” he says, again. “Also, he’s been staring at you like you’re gonna disappear if he blinks.”

You look down at the pendant in your hand.

“…He does that,” you admit quietly.

“Yeah,” Dustin says. “Because he likes you.”

You huff a small laugh. “You’ve made that very clear.”

“And you like him,” he shoots back.

Dustin leans closer. “So what’s the holdup?”

You hesitate, your fingers curling slightly around the pendant.

“…I don’t want to lose him,” you say, softer now.

Dustin’s expression shifts; less teasing, more certain. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” he says. “Because he’d rather chew off his own arm than let that happen.”

You laugh under your breath. “That’s a very specific image.”

“I stand by it.”

You shake your head, but your shoulders relax just a little.

“…He called me ‘Captain’ like, five times today,” you say, almost to yourself.

Dustin grins. “Yeah. That’s his thing now.”

“It’s not his thing.”

“It’s definitely his thing.”

You smile, small and helpless again.

“…I don’t hate it.”

“I know you don’t.”

You nudge him with your elbow. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re in love,” he says sweetly.

You freeze. “…Don’t say that.”

He tilts his head. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“…Okay,” he says. “Then don’t say it.”

“…But maybe do something about it,” he adds.

You groan. “Dustin.”

“I’m just saying!”

You laugh, shaking your head, then glance back down at the pendant in your hand.

“…You think he’d think this is stupid?” you ask.

Dustin looks at it, then back at you.

“He’d think it’s the coolest thing he’s ever seen,” he says immediately. “And then he’d make some dumb joke about being your first mate.”

Meanwhile…

“…You’re staring again,” Gareth says.

Eddie doesn’t even look at him. “I am not.”

“You are,” Gareth nods. “Like, aggressively.”

Eddie tears his eyes away, scowling. “I was just making sure she didn’t get lost.”

“She was gone for, like, five seconds.”

“It’s a crowded place.”

“Uh-huh.”

Eddie takes a long sip of his drink, like that’ll end the conversation, it does not. Gareth leans closer, dropping his voice like he’s about to share a secret.

“So…you gonna tell her or just keep doing the whole ‘yearning in silence’ thing?”

Eddie chokes. “The what?”

“The yearning,” Gareth repeats. “It’s loud, man.”

“I am not yearning.”

“You just watched her walk away like your entire soul left your body.”

Eddie blinks. “…That’s dramatic.”

“It’s accurate.”

Eddie drags a hand down his face. “There’s nothing going on.”

Gareth just stares at him, then looks in the direction you went. Then back at Eddie.

“…Right.”

“Shut up.”

“You put a ring on her finger.”

“IT WAS A PRIZE.”

“And then you held her hand after.”

Eddie freezes. “…I did not.”

“You did.”

“…Okay, maybe for like, half a second.”

“It was not half a second.”

“I can’t believe you considered not coming today,” Gareth says casually.

Eddie goes still. “Who told you that?”

“You did,” Gareth deadpans. “Yesterday. When you were pacing.”

Eddie groans. “I was not pacing!”

“You were pacing.”

“You said you didn’t want to make it weird,” Gareth continues, ticking it off on his fingers. “That it’s her birthday, and you didn’t want to, oh, what was it? ‘Ruin the vibe.’”

Eddie points at him. “I didn’t say it like that.”

“You absolutely did.”

Eddie exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“…I just don’t want to screw it up.”

“You’re gonna screw it up,” Gareth says.

Eddie glares at him. “You’re so helpful, thank you.”

“I mean, if you don’t say anything,” Gareth adds.

“…I don’t want to lose her.”

Gareth snorts. “You’re acting like telling her would be the thing that ruins it.”

Eddie looks past him, back toward the crowd. “…What if it is?”

Gareth follows his gaze and sees you standing there, smiling softly at something Dustin’s saying.

“…Dude,” he says, almost incredulous. “She’s the only girl I have ever seen out up with your bullshit. If that’s not evidence enough…”

Eddie lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “…That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah,” Gareth says. “It does.”

Eddie shifts his weight, suddenly restless. “…You really think—?”

“Yes,” Gareth says immediately. “I really think.”

Eddie exhales, long and slow. “…Shit.”

Gareth grins. “Yeah. Shit.”

From somewhere in the crowd: “HEY!”

Eddie’s voice cuts through, and you and Dustin both turn. He’s already moving toward you, Gareth right behind him.

“There you are,” Eddie says, a little breathless.

His eyes go straight to you, like always. Dustin looks at you, smug, and you elbow him. Hard.

“What?” Eddie asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing,” you and Dustin say at the same time.

Gareth snorts behind him. “…Yeah,” he says. “Nothing at all.”

Dustin and Gareth glance at each other; it’s quick and silent. But understood.

Dustin straightens. “Actually—”

Gareth cuts in, grabbing his shoulder. “We should, uh, go check out that thing.”

“What thing?” Eddie asks.

“That thing,” Gareth repeats, already steering Dustin away.

Dustin nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. The…important thing.”

You squint. “You guys are being weird.”

“Not weird,” Dustin says quickly. “Just busy.”

“Very busy,” Gareth agrees.

Eddie frowns. “Since when do you two leave me?”

“Since right now,” Gareth says, clapping him on the back. “Don’t screw it up.”

Eddie blinks. “Don’t screw what—?”

But they’re already gone, vanished into the crowd like they were never there.

Eddie exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re acting strange.”

“Yeah,” you say, though your voice is softer now. “They are.”

“…You wanna do a lap?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah.”

You fall into step beside each other, slower now, drifting away from the thicker crowd. For a moment, neither of you speaks, just walking close enough that your arms brush every now and then.

“I, uh—” you start, then stop.

Eddie glances at you. “What?”

You hold up the pendant, turning it slightly so it catches the light.

“What do you think?” you ask.

He glances between your face and the pendant, a small knowing grin forming. 

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That’s…that’s very you.”

You smile a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Captain’s gotta have something like that.”

You huff a small laugh, looking down at it again.

“…Dustin said you’d say something like that.”

Eddie groans. “Of course he did.”

You smile, but it fades just slightly. “…He also said something else.”

Eddie’s shoulders tense a fraction. “Oh yeah?”

You nod. “Why did you almost not come today?”

He goes still, like completely still. The noise of the faire fades a little around you.

“…What?” he says, quieter.

You glance at him. “Dustin said you almost didn’t.”

Eddie shoots a quick look out at the crowd, like he’s checking if Dustin’s within range to strangle.

“He talks too much.”

“Eddie.”

He releases a long exhale and runs a hand through his hair.

“…I just didn’t want to make it weird,” he says finally.

“Weird?” you echo.

“Yeah,” he huffs, a little laugh slipping out, nervous. “Like, your birthday, and I didn’t wanna show up and mess it up or something.”

“You wouldn’t mess it up.”

“You don’t know that,” he says, a little too quickly.

You stop walking. He takes a step before realizing, then turns back to you.

“What?”

“…Why would you think that?” you ask.

He shakes his head like he’s already regretting the inside thought, but it becomes an outside thought anyway.

“…Because I like you, okay?” he blurts.

“I always have,” he adds, quieter now, like it’s something he wasn’t supposed to say out loud. “I just…I didn’t want to make things weird or screw it up or have you look at me differently or—”

“Eddie.”

He stops and swallows. “…Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t,” you say softly.

“Wouldn’t what?”

“Mess it up.”

He searches your face like he’s trying to figure out if this is real. “…You sure about that?”

You smile and nod. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m pretty sure.”

His voice drops, barely above a whisper. “…You don’t think I’m ruining this right now?”

You shake your head.

“No,” you say gently. “I think you’re finally catching up.”

He blinks. “Catching up to what?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you reach for his hand and slip your fingers into his.

Just like earlier, only this time, it’s not accidental.

“…I like you too,” you say.

Eddie short-circuits.

“…Oh,” he breathes.

You laugh softly. “Yeah. Oh.”

He stares at you for a second like he’s trying to process it. Then a grin breaks across his face, slow and disbelieving and oh-so-Eddie.

“Okay,” he says. “Cool. Cool cool cool.”

You laugh. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah,” he nods immediately. “But I’m your dork now, right?”

You tilt your head, teasing. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He squeezes your hand. “Too late. Already planning our pirate crew dynamic.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he grins. “Captain and her extremely devoted, very attractive, first mate.”

You snort. “Very attractive?”

“Had to throw that in there. Branding.”

You shake your head, smiling, but your grip on his hand tightens anyway.

“Good,” you say.

His expression softens again. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Good.”

Eddie looks down at your joined hands, then back up at you. Still smiling like he can’t quite believe this is real.

“…So,” he says, clearing his throat a little. “We should uh, go back?”

You smile, squeezing his hand once. “Yeah. We should probably let them stop being weird about it.”

He huffs. “Bold of you to assume they’ll ever stop.”

“Fair.”

Your fingers are fully laced together, swinging slightly between you as you move.

And Eddie? Eddie is so aware of it. Every few steps, his thumb brushes over your knuckles like he’s checking you’re still there. You catch him doing it more than once.

“…You okay?” you tease.

He glances at you, a little sheepish. “Yeah. Just making sure you’re not gonna vanish on me.”

You smile, softer now. “Not going anywhere, Munson.”

His grip tightens just slightly. “Good,” he says.

You spot the group before they spot you. Clustered near one of the food stalls, all mid-conversation, and then Dustin looks up and freezes.

His eyes drop immediately to your hands, then snap back to your face. His expression goes nuclear.

“Oh my—”

He slaps Gareth’s arm so hard it echoes.

“WHAT—” Gareth turns, annoyed, then follows Dustin’s line of sight.

“…No way.”

Jeff squints. “What?”

Mike turns. Lucas turns. One by one, they all clock it.

The hand holding, the very obvious hand holding.

“FUCKING FINALLY—”

The group erupts. You flinch, laughing immediately as Dustin sprints toward you like he’s about to tackle you.

“I KNEW IT—I TOLD YOU—I LITERALLY TOLD EVERYONE—”

“Back up!” Eddie laughs, holding out his free hand like he’s fending him off. “Give us a second, man—”

Gareth is howling, doubled over. “Oh my GOD, I thought you were gonna die before you said it—”

“Shut up!” Eddie shoots back, already turning red.

Mike shakes his head, grinning. “That took way too long.”

“Painfully long,” Lucas adds.

Jeff just nods. “Embarrassing, honestly.”

You bury your face in Eddie’s shoulder for a second, laughing. “I hate all of you.”

“NO YOU DON’T,” Dustin says, still buzzing, pointing between you and Eddie. “THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE—”

“It’s her birthday!” Eddie argues.

“SECOND BEST DAY OF MY LIFE,” Dustin corrects immediately.

Gareth straightens, wiping at his eyes. “So what happened? Who said it first? I need details.”

“Absolutely not,” you say.

“Come on—”

“No.”

Eddie nods firmly. “Nope. Classified.”

Dustin gasps. “You used my line against me?”

“Learned from the best,” Eddie shoots back.

Gareth leans in closer, lowering his voice, but clearly not enough.

“So you’re, like…official now?”

Eddie glances at you, and you glance at him. A small smile passes between you.

“…Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah,” you echo.

The group collectively loses their minds again.

“OH MY GOD—”

“DISGUSTING—”

“I’M SO HAPPY—”

“I’M GONNA THROW UP—”

Eddie flips them off, but he’s laughing.

“Alright, alright,” Gareth claps, regaining some composure. “So what’s the plan now, Captain?”

Eddie perks up immediately at that, nudging you. “Yeah, Captain. What’s next?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. You glance at the group, then at Eddie. Then out toward the glowing lanterns and distant docks.

“…I think,” you say, “the crew owes me one more adventure.”

Eddie grins. “Anything you want.”

i hope you all loved it!!!!

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beasbugs:

Knock knock...knock knock knock.

“Yeah?” you call. It opens slowly, your brother peeking his head in just slightly.

“What do you want, Dustin?”

“Heyyyy,” he says, his smile of mischief plastered ear to ear.

“No.”

“What! I didn’t even say anything!”

“Your face says enough. Out.”

“Can you at least listen before you say no?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it. “No.”

“Come on! Fine, okay. I know Mom left you in charge for the weekend, but Mrs. Wheeler says their basement needs to be ‘fumigated.’ Something about us stinking up the place, I dunno, anyways, I was wondering if you’d let me host Hellfire here?”

You let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “What’s in it for me?”

His eyes widen, smirk growing back. “I’ll do your chores for a week.”

You hum, raising your eyebrows.

“Fine. A month.”

You nod once, satisfied, then flop back on your bed.

“Fine, you can have your stupid club over.”

“Hey! Hellfire is not stupid! You used to love D&D, remember?”

“Oh, I remember,” you say, rolling onto your side to look at him properly. “I also remember teaching you everything you know.”

Dustin scoffs, pushing the door open wider as he steps fully into your room. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, you retired. That’s on you.”

“I didn’t retire,” you correct, pointing at him. “I evolved. Some of us moved on to bigger, better things.”

“Like what?” he challenges.

You pause. “…Having a life.”

He stares at you, unimpressed. “Good one.”

You grin, completely unbothered. “I know.”

He tilts his head, bouncing slightly on his heels. “So that’s a yes?”

You sigh dramatically, even though you’ve already agreed. “Yes, Dustin. You can host your little nerd gathering here.”

“It’s not—”

“Out,” you cut him off, pointing to the hallway.

He beams anyway, backing out of the room. “You’re the best! Seriously, I’m gonna tell everyone, this is huge!”

“Close the door!” you call after him.

Yet another knock at your door snaps you out of whatever half-focus you were pretending to have.

“Yeah?” you call.

It swings open without hesitation, and Dustin and Mike appear in the doorway. 

You don’t even sit up. “No.”

“Hey!” Dustin protests immediately. “I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You didn’t have to. I can see it on your face. Out.”

Mike crosses his arms. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being preventative,” you correct, finally pushing yourself upright. “What do you want?”

Dustin steps forward, already launching into it.

“Okay, so, minor issue. Lucas ditched.”

You blink. “Ditched?”

“For a basketball game,” Mike says, clearly offended on principle.

“Unbelievable,” Dustin adds.

You snort. “Sounds like he made the right call.”

Dustin pushes past that, clapping his hands together. “Anyway! We need a sub.”

You narrow your eyes. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on!”

“No.”

“You didn’t even hear the full—”

“I heard enough. No.”

Dustin groans, dragging his hands down his face. “You love combat strategy!”

“I love not being roped into your chaos on my weekend.”

“It’s not chaos,” Mike argues. “It’s a structured narrative experience.”

You stare at him. “…It’s chaos.”

From down the hall, you hear the low murmur of the others: dice clinking, someone laughing, and then a voice you definitely recognize.

“Oh man,” Eddie calls out, loud enough to carry. “What’s taking so long? Did she already say no?”

“Yes!” you shout back. “And it’s staying that way!”

“Ouch,” Eddie says. “Didn’t even hesitate.”

You can practically hear the grin in his voice.

Dustin whips back to you, desperate now. “Okay, fine. New deal.”

You sigh. “Dustin—”

“I’ll do your chores for a month and a half.”

You pause.

Mike looks at him. “A month and a half?”

Dustin doesn’t even look away from you. “I’m serious.”

You tilt your head, considering him now. “…All of them?”

“All of them.”

“Laundry?”

“Yes.”

“Dishes?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll clean the bathroom, too?”

He hesitates. “…Yes.”

You sit there a moment longer, letting the silence stretch.

“…Fine.”

Dustin loses his mind. “I KNEW IT! YOU DID MISS IT!”

“Don’t make me regret it,” you cut in, already standing. “And if you slack off even once—”

“I won’t! I swear, I’ll be the best chore-doer you’ve ever seen!”

“That’s not a high bar,” you mutter, brushing past them toward the living room.

Eddie’s sitting at the head of the table, rings glinting as he lazily spins a die between his fingers, and the second he sees you, he straightens just a little.

“Well, shit,” he says, grinning. “They actually convinced you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you reply, crossing your arms. “I’m here under duress.”

“Sure you are,” he hums. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You glance at the table setup, then at the map. Then, at the absolute disaster of positioning they’ve managed in your absence.

You scoff. “Jesus. This is what you’ve been running?”

The boys immediately start protesting.

“Hey!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“We had a plan!”

“You had a terrible plan,” you correct, already stepping closer. “If Lucas were here, he’d be telling you the same thing.”

Eddie leans back in his chair, watching you with open amusement. “Oh? And you’d do better?”

“Oh, Munson,” you say, reaching for the spare sheet. “I taught these boys everything they know.”

Dustin beams like this is the greatest moment of his life. Eddie’s eyebrows lift, interest clearly piqued now.

“Did you, now?” he says.

“Mmhm.”

You take Lucas’s spot, scanning the board once more before pointing.

“Move here,” you tell Mike.

“That puts me in range—”

“Exactly,” you cut in. “Which means they’ll take the bait, and then,” you tap another spot,  “we hit them from the side.”

“…Wait,” Dustin says slowly. “That’s actually—”

“Smart,” Mike finishes.

You sit back, satisfied. “I know.”

Eddie lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Jesus,” he mutters.

“MY SISTER,” Dustin says proudly, like he personally invented you.

Eddie looks back at you. 

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You meet his gaze, unfazed. “Oh, you will.”

Eddie leans forward slowly, elbows resting on the table, fingers steepled like he’s about to deliver something devastating.

“Alright,” he says, voice dropping into that dramatic, DM cadence. “As you step into the corridor, the torches along the stone walls flicker, unnaturally, and you feel it before you see it…”

Dustin’s already leaning in. Mike’s gripping his pencil.

“…a presence,” Eddie finishes, eyes sweeping the table. “Something watching you.”

“Cool,” you say. “It’s a trap.”

Eddie squints at you. “You don’t know that.”

You tilt your head. “I do.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenges, a little grin creeping in. “And how’s that?”

You gesture lazily at the map. “You’ve been herding them this direction for twenty minutes. Narrow corridor, low visibility, creepy buildup speech? You’re practically begging us to walk into something.”

Dustin slowly turns his head toward Eddie. “…He has been doing that.”

“Hey! Don’t break the immersion,” Eddie shoots back.

You just shrug. “Also, you only get that theatrical when you’re about to screw them over.”

Mike points. “That’s actually true.”

“Okay, wow, I’m feeling very attacked right now,” Eddie mutters.

You lean forward slightly, tapping the board again. “There’s something ahead. Probably above us or in the walls. We trigger it from a distance.”

“…We can do that?” Dustin asks.

You look at him. “Did I teach you nothing?”

He lights up. “You did teach me that!”

“Thank you,” you nod.

Eddie exhales through his nose, shaking his head, and a slight bit of an impressed expression looming over his face. 

“Alright,” he says, sitting back. “Go ahead. Ruin my fun.”

“Oh, I plan to,” you reply easily.

A few rounds later, it’s not even subtle anymore. Every time Eddie tries something, every little twist, every setup, you catch it.

“You hesitate too long before describing that,” you point out at one point.

“That’s called building suspense,” he argues.

“That’s called you deciding if you want to be mean or really mean.”

“…I’m always really mean.”

“Exactly.”

Mike just mutters, “We’re never surviving this.”

But you are. Because you keep adjusting, redirecting, calling things out just early enough to give everyone a fighting chance.

Eddie’s watching you again, and not even pretending not to, at this point.

There’s a moment where you’re mid-sentence, explaining something to Dustin, hands moving a little as you talk. And when you glance up, you catch him already looking.

He doesn’t even look away, just lifts his brows slightly, like, yeah, I got caught. What about it?

“Focus, Munson,” you say. “You’re supposed to be destroying us, remember?”

“Oh, I am,” he says, a little quieter. “Just taking notes first.”

You blink at that. “…That’s ominous.”

“It should be.”

By the time the encounter wraps, the table’s a mess; papers everywhere, dice scattered, Dustin halfway out of his chair from excitement.

“That was insane,” he says. “We actually outplayed you.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Eddie replies. “You survived. Barely.”

“We survived because of her,” Mike says, gesturing to you.

You lean back in your chair. “Correct.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, shaking his head again.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re something else.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Good something, or—?”

“Annoyingly good,” he answers without hesitation.

You grin. “I’ll take it.”

Dustin’s looking between you both again. That little squint. That slow, creeping smile, like something’s starting to click into place.

“…Huh,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?” Mike asks.

“Nothing,” Dustin says quickly. “Nothing. Just…”

He glances at you, then at Eddie. Then back at the board, like he’s trying really hard not to say whatever thought just popped into his head.

“…this is working out really well,” he finishes instead.

The game winds down in a mess of overlapping voices and half-finished arguments.

“Okay, but technically…”

“No, that doesn’t count!”

“It literally does.”

“Guys,” you cut in, standing, “I’m getting a drink before I listen to any more of this.”

No one stops you. Mostly because Dustin and Mike are already bickering their way down the hall toward his room, voices fading as they go.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you step into the kitchen.

You grab a glass, filling it at the sink, leaning your hip against the counter.

“You always make an exit like that?”

You don’t turn right away, just take a sip before glancing over your shoulder. Eddie’s leaning against the frame, arms crossed loosely, watching you like he’s been waiting for a second alone.

“You always follow people into kitchens?” you shoot back.

“Only the interesting ones.”

You snort softly, turning back to the counter. “Flattery again. Bold strategy.”

“Hey, it worked earlier.”

You glance at him. “Debatable.”

“So,” he says, nodding slightly toward the living room. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

You hum. “About?”

“All of that,” he gestures vaguely, meaning the game, the table, you. “You could’ve been saving these idiots this whole time.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d signed up as their personal lifeline.”

“Still,” he says. “You’re good.”

You shrug, like it doesn’t matter.

“It’s just D&D.”

“Yeah,” he says, watching you. “But you’re not just playing.”

You meet his eyes at that.

“…What’s that supposed to mean?”

He tilts his head, considering you for a second before answering.

“You read the room,” he says. “You don’t just react, you’re already thinking three steps ahead. You know when someone’s about to screw up before they even do it.”

“…You’re giving me way too much credit.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“I used to DM,” you say, a little more casually. “Before you.”

Eddie’s brows lift. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, when they were younger.” You nod toward the hallway. “Dustin practically lived at that table. Mike took everything too seriously, as usual.”

“I still do,” Mike yells faintly from the other room.

You smile a little. “See?”

Eddie laughs under his breath.

“So what happened?” he asks. “You just stopped?”

You shrug again. “Got busy. Grew out of it, I guess.”

“You don’t look like you grew out of it,” he says.

You glance at him. “What does that mean?”

“You lit up in there,” he replies simply. “That’s not a ‘used to’ thing.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “I’m retired.”

“Retired,” he repeats, like he’s testing the word.

“Retired,” you confirm. “Don’t try to recruit me, Munson.”

He smiles a little at that.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he says.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re lying.”

“Okay,” he admits easily. “Maybe a little.”

“You should come by more,” he says, softer now. “Not even to play. Just, uh, hang out.”

You look at him, searching his face a little. “…Why?”

He shrugs. “’Cause it’s better when you’re there.”

You look away first this time, reaching for your glass again just to have something to do.

“…I’ll think about it,” you say.

He grins slightly. “I’ll take it.”

The next morning is quiet. Sunlight spills through the kitchen window, catching on the rim of your glass as you pour orange juice, the soft clink the only sound for a moment.

Dustin sits at the table, already halfway through a bowl of cereal, flipping absentmindedly through a notebook. You slide into the chair across from him, grabbing a piece of toast.

“…You owe me,” you say, taking a bite.

He doesn’t even look up. “Month and a half. I know. I’m a man of my word.”

“We’ll see.”

“You had fun.”

You glance at him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying—”

A knock at the door cuts him off, and both of you freeze.

Dustin frowns.

“I’ll get it,” you say, already pushing your chair back.

You’re not expecting anyone, which is probably why you hesitate for half a second before opening the door. And then, yeah. Of course.

Eddie stands on your porch, hands shoved into his jean pockets and looking entirely too pleased with himself for nine in the morning.

You blink. “You’re kidding.”

“Miss me already?” he says easily.

You lean against the doorframe, unimpressed. “It’s been, what, twelve hours?”

“Longest twelve hours of my life,” he replies without missing a beat.

Your cheeks slightly pinken despite yourself. “What do you want, Munson?”

He lifts a shoulder. “Left my jacket.”

You glance past him, like you might somehow see it sitting on the porch.

“…Did you?”

“Nope.”

You narrow your eyes and he grins.

“Okay, yeah, I did,” he admits. “Inside, probably. Thought I’d come grab it.”

Dustin is absolutely clocking the vibe the second Eddie walks in. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches as Eddie makes his way into the kitchen.

“Morning, Henderson,” Eddie says.

Dustin squints at him. “Why are you here?”

“Missed me?”

“No.”

Eddie laughs, glancing at you as he passes. “Wow. You guys are brutal.”

“Runs in the family,” you say.

“Explains a lot,” he murmurs.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Find your jacket and go.”

“Working on it.” Although, he doesn’t move immediately. Instead, he grabs the mug sitting on the counter, peering into it like he’s inspecting something important.

“You drink coffee?” he asks.

“Sometimes.”

“Didn’t peg you for a coffee person.”

“You don’t know me that well.”

“Working on that too.”

You glance at him. “…You’re annoying.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “But you let me in your house, so what does that say about you?”

“That I’m easily manipulated.”

“Or,” he counters, a little softer, “that you don’t mind me being here.”

Dustin’s spoon very slowly lowers back into his bowl.

“…Oh,” he says.

You ignore him. Eddie, unfortunately, does not.

“Oh?” he echoes, glancing over.

Dustin looks between the two of you; once, twice. Then his eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he repeats, louder this time.

“Dustin,” you warn.

“No, no, no, I’m just,” he gestures vaguely between you and Eddie, words failing him for once in his life. “This is…”

“Breakfast?” Eddie offers.

“Not that!” Dustin says. “You—he—what is—”

You grab a napkin and toss it at him. “Eat your cereal.”

“I am eating my cereal!” he insists. “I’m also observing!”

Eddie leans back against the counter, clearly entertained now.

“Observing what, Henderson?”

Dustin points at him. “You came here for your jacket.”

“Correct.”

“You never forget your jacket.”

Eddie opens his mouth, then closes it.

“…Okay, that’s, uh, yeah, that’s actually a solid point,” he admits.

You sigh, already stepping in before Dustin can spiral any further. “Oh my god, relax. Let’s just go look in the living room.”

Dustin narrows his eyes. “It’s not in the living room.”

“Wow,” you say flatly. “It’s almost like I didn’t ask.”

You brush past Eddie, nudging him lightly as you go. “C’mon.”

You move toward the back of the couch like you’re actually looking.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you say, not turning around.

“Me?” Eddie replies, tone innocent. “I’m just a guy trying to retrieve his lost property.”

You glance over your shoulder. “You literally admitted you didn’t even know where it was.”

“So?”

You huff a small laugh, turning to lean back against the arm of the couch.

“Your commitment to the bit is impressive.”

“Thank you,” he says, stepping a little closer. “I work very hard at it.”

“So,” you say, crossing your arms loosely. “You really came all the way over here for a jacket you have ‘no idea’ where it might be?”

“…Not exactly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I figured.”

He exhales a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck for a second before looking back at you.

“I was gonna ask you something,” he says.

Your stomach does a little flip. “…That so?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t really get the chance last night. Y’know. With your brother threatening my life and all.”

“He was not threatening your life.”

“He pointed at me,” Eddie insists. “That’s a threat.”

You smile a little despite yourself. “You’ll live.”

“Good,” he says, softer now. “Because I’d like to take you out.”

You don’t speak right away. He’s scanning your face, trying to gauge which direction you might lean.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he adds, quickly but still sincere. “I mean…well, actually, it could be fancy if you want, but I was thinking, there’s this spot out by the quarry, good view, I can bring music, maybe steal some food from home—”

“Steal?” you repeat.

“Borrow,” he corrects. “Temporarily.”

You shake your head, a quiet laugh slipping out of you.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told.”

“…You’re asking me on a real date?” you say.

He nods, no hesitation this time. “Yeah,” he says. “A real date.”

“…Okay,” you say.

His face lights up; just a little, but it’s there. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You shrug, like it’s not a big deal. “Quarry sounds fine.”

“Cool,” he says quickly. “Cool, yeah, uh, that’s…great.”

You tilt your head. “You nervous, Munson?”

“Never,” he lies.

“AH-HA.”

Dustin’s voice cuts through the moment like a siren, and you both turn. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“I knew it,” he says.

You groan. “Dustin—”

“I knew it,” he repeats, pointing between you both. “You didn’t come here for your jacket!”

Eddie lifts a hand. “In my defense, I did find it.”

Dustin ignores him completely. “You’re asking her out.”

“…Yes,” Eddie says.

Dustin’s face splits into a grin. “Oh my god.”

Eddie chuckles, crossing his arms lightly. “Do I have your blessing, Henderson?”

Dustin nods slowly, like he’s considering. “Be easier on us next campaign.”

You blink. “That’s your condition?”

“Yes,” Dustin says immediately. “If you’re gonna be around more, you can’t keep trying to kill us every session.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, slipping his jacket on. “Absolutely not.”

“Eddie!”

“I will consider,” he amends, holding up a finger, “slightly reducing the level of psychological torment.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“It’s the best you’re getting.”

Dustin squints at him. “…I’ll take it.”

You shake your head, already heading back toward the kitchen. “You’re both ridiculous.”

“Runs in the family,” Eddie calls after you.

At the door, Eddie pauses, glancing back once.

“Hey,” he says.

You look over.

“Saturday?” he adds.

You nod. “Saturday.”

He grins, and then he’s gone.

Saturday comes quicker than it should. You go about your day like normal, ignore the way you check the clock more than once, ignore the fact that you changed your outfit twice before settling on something that definitely looks like you didn’t try.

By the time there’s a knock at the door, you’re in the kitchen with Dustin, who’s hovering in a way that’s already suspicious.

“You’re pacing,” he says.

“I’m not pacing.”

“You’re pacing internally.”

Knock. Knock.

Dustin gasps like something monumental just happened. “He’s here.”

“Relax.”

“You relax!”

“I am relaxed.”

“You’re lying.”

You point at him. “Don’t make this weird.”

“I’m not making it weird,” he says, already halfway to the door. “He’s making it weird.”

“You don’t even know what he’s doing...Dustin!”

Too late, he yanks the door open.

“…Awwww.”

You freeze.

“No,” you say immediately.

Dustin doesn’t move, just stands there, staring.

Because standing on your porch is Eddie, and he, in fact, is holding flowers. Just a simple bunch, slightly awkward in his hand like he’s not entirely used to it, but still. Flowers.

Eddie clocks Dustin’s expression instantly.

“Don’t,” he says flatly.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dustin replies, grinning.

“You made a sound.”

“It was a supportive sound.”

Eddie leans in slightly. “Henderson, I swear to god, I will make your next campaign so psychologically devastating you won’t recover until graduation.”

Dustin lights up. “That’s not a threat, that’s your normal behavior.”

“…Right,” Eddie mutters.

You step into the doorway, crossing your arms as you take him in.

“…You brought flowers.”

He glances at them, then back at you, suddenly a little less smug.

“Yeah,” he says. “Felt like the move.”

Dustin makes another noise.

Eddie doesn’t even look at him this time. “I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Dustin says, backing up with his hands raised. “I’m gone. I’m disappearing. I was never here.”

He turns, then immediately leans back in toward Eddie as he passes.

“Bring her back alive,” he stage-whispers.

“Get out,” you shove his shoulder. He disappears down the hall, laughing.

When you and Eddie walk towards the van, he opens the passenger door for you without making a big deal. Even though he practically sped-walked to beat you to the door. 

“Your ride, m’lady,” he says.

You roll your eyes as you climb in. “If you bow, I’m getting out.”

“Noted.”

He shuts the door, jogs around to his side, and the engine rumbles to life.

The quarry is quiet when you arrive. Sun dipping low, sky all warm colors, the air just cool enough to feel good. Eddie grabs a blanket from the back, shaking it out on a flatter patch of ground.

“Told you,” he says. “Nothing fancy.”

You look around, taking it in. “…It’s nice.”

He glances at you, clearly pleased with that. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You sit, tucking your legs under you, setting the flowers carefully beside you. He drops down next to you, not too close. At first, anyway. Music hums softly from the van, something low and warm.

For a while, it’s just easy, basically talking about nothing. Besides Dustin, mostly.

“He’s gonna tell everyone,” you say.

“Oh, absolutely,” Eddie nods. “I’m expecting a full interrogation next session.”

“You deserve it.”

“For what? Being charming?”

“For threatening him with emotional damage over D&D.”

“That’s how I show affection.”

There’s a point where the conversation dips, and you both end up looking out over the water. His hand brushes yours, barely. But you leave yours resting there, and he does too. 

“…So,” he says, a little softer. “This counts, right?”

You glance at him. “What?”

“This,” he gestures loosely. “Date. I didn’t accidentally kidnap you into hanging out.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Yeah, Munson. It counts.”

“Good,” he says.

There’s that small smile again, the one he doesn’t overplay.

“Was hoping it did.”

Music hums low from the van, something warm and easy. You’re both stretched out on the blanket now, closer than when you started, close enough that your shoulders brush every so often, neither of you bothering to move.

Eddie’s on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, staring up at the sky.

“You look good.”

You blink, turning your head toward him. “That was subtle.”

He shrugs, glancing over at you. “Didn’t feel like being subtle.”

“…Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You always do. Just figured I should say it out loud at least once.”

You study him for a second, like you’re trying to decide if he’s messing with you. (He isn’t.)

“…You clean up okay,” you say finally, nudging his arm with yours.

“Okay?” he repeats, offended. “That’s what I get?”

“You wore a different shirt.”

“It’s a good shirt.”

“It is,” you admit, a little softer. “Looks good on you.”

He grins, just a little, like he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it.

“I’ll take it.”

Then he rolls onto his side, propping himself up slightly so he can look at you properly.

“You’re also kind,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You’ve got this whole…” he gestures vaguely, “Thing.”

“That clears it up.”

“You know what I mean,” he says. “You act like you don’t care, but you do.”

You scoff. “I don’t—”

“You do,” he cuts in. “You look out for them.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s called not letting them die immediately.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “But it’s more than that.”

He tilts his head, a slow grin pulling at his mouth.

“You herd them around,” he says. “Keep them in line, steer them out of trouble.”

You let out a short laugh. “Oh, my god.”

“What?” he grins. “It’s true.”

“They are not my responsibility.”

“They are absolutely your responsibility,” he says. “You treat them like your…” he pauses, “your little sheep.”

You stare at him. “…My sheep?”

“Yeah,” he nods, clearly pleased with himself. “You’re like, what’s it called? A shepherd.”

“That is the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You love it.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” he insists. “It fits.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “…You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he says, softer this time. “But I’m right.”

There’s a long pause where the teasing becomes a settled silence. His hand scooches, just slightly, until his fingers brush yours. 

“Hey,” he says.

You look at him. “Yeah?”

He leans in just a little, not closing the distance completely, but giving you space to stop him if you wanted to.

“Can I—?”

You don’t let him finish, so you lean in first. It’s soft. Not rushed, just warm and real, like it’s been building there the whole time.

His hand finds yours properly this time, fingers curling just slightly as he leans into it.

When you pull back, it’s slow and close enough that you’re still in his bubble.

“…Still hate the sheep thing,” you murmur.

He smiles, barely pulling away. “Liar.”

Eddie’s fingers tighten around yours, then slide up your arm, slow like he’s memorizing the path. You feel the way his breath catches, the way his other hand finds your waist and pulls you closer.

You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, and he makes this quiet sound in the back of his throat that sends heat rushing down your spine. 

His tongue brushes yours, gentle at first, then bolder. You shift closer, swinging a leg over so you’re straddling his lap, knees pressing into the soft blanket. His hands settle on your thighs, sliding up under the hem of your skirt.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your mouth, half-laugh, half-groan. “You’re gonna kill me out here.”

You smile into the next kiss, rolling your hips once just to hear that sound again. His grip tightens, one hand slipping higher under your shirt until his palm is warm against your bare back. 

You tug at his vest, then the hem of his tee, and he helps you yank it up and off in one messy movement. Your fingers trace the tattoos on his chest, and he shivers under your touch.

“Been thinking about this,” he murmurs, voice rough as he kisses along your jaw, down your neck. “You, me, stars… way too much.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head to give him better access, fingers threading through his messy curls. “Prove it.” He does.

The next kiss is deeper, wetter. Your shirt joins his on the edge of the blanket. His hands roam down your back, over your ribs, thumbs brushing sensitive skin until you’re both breathing hard and laughing breathlessly between kisses. 

You grind down against him again, feeling exactly how much he wants you, and his head falls back against the blanket with a quiet curse, eyes half-lidded.

He rasps, hands gripping your hips to still you for a second. His eyes are dark, pupils blown. “If we don’t slow down—”

Voices.

Laughter and footsteps crunching on the gravel path that leads down to the quarry’s edge. Multiple people, and they’re getting closer, quickly. 

Eddie’s eyes snap open, and yours do too.

“Shit,” you both whisper at the same time.

You scramble off his lap, heart racing. He lunges for your shirt and tosses it to you while yanking his own back on inside-out.

You’re both half-dressed, flushed, and still breathing hard when the group’s flashlight beams sweep across the rocks nearby.

Eddie catches your eye. His hair is a total disaster, his lips kiss-swollen, and he looks so ridiculously guilty that you start laughing.

Quiet, helpless giggles that turn into full laughter when he pulls you against his chest to muffle the sound. His shoulders shake with it, too.

“Real smooth, Munson,” you whisper, still catching your breath. “Almost got us caught half-naked at the quarry.”

“Worth it,” he says, pressing one last quick kiss to your forehead, grinning like an idiot. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here before they decide this spot looks fun.”

He grabs your hand, fingers laced tight, and helps you up. You shake out the blanket together, still snickering as you hurry back up the path toward his van.

The engine rumbles to life. Eddie glances over at you, still flushed and smiling, and reaches across the console to squeeze your thigh once.

You’re still a little flushed, still a little giddy, and every time you glance over at him, you have to fight the urge to laugh again.

“You’re laughing at me,” he says, not even looking over.

“I’m not—” you start.

He glances at you, and you immediately break.

“Okay, I am,” you admit, grinning. “You should’ve seen your face.”

“My face?” he scoffs. “You were the one giggling like we just committed a crime.”

“We almost got caught half-naked, Eddie.”

“Almost,” he emphasizes. “Keyword.”

You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look out the window.

“…Still worth it?” you ask.

He doesn’t even hesitate, “Yeah, definitely."

You glance back at him, and he’s already looking at you. Your stomach flips yet again.

“…Yeah,” you quietly echo.

When you pull up and park in the driveway, neither of you moves right away. You both just kind of sit there for a second, like neither of you wants to be the one to end it.

“Well,” you say finally, unbuckling your seatbelt. “You didn’t get us arrested.”

“Big win,” he nods.

“Minimal public humiliation.”

“Debatable.”

You laugh, turning to face him.

“Thanks for the flowers,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They were nice.”

He smiles a little.

“Good,” he says. “I’ll add it to my list of successful moves.”

“You have a list?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Terrifying.”

“Hey,” he leans a little closer, resting his arm on the back of your seat, “it’s working, isn’t it?”

You raise an eyebrow. “…Don’t get cocky.”

You both kind of lean in at the same time, and the kiss is softer than before, like neither of you is trying to prove anything now. When you pull back, you don’t go far.

“…You’re still annoying,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he says. “But you like me.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Don’t push it.”

“Not pushing,” he says. “Observing.”

You roll your eyes, but your hand lingers on his arm for a second longer before you pull away.

“I should go before Dustin’s waiting at the window with binoculars.”

“He absolutely is.”

“Yeah.”

You reach for the door, then pause.

“…see you tomorrow?” 

He nods, easy. “Tomorrow.”

When you make it inside, the house is way too dark for how you left it. You know Dustin, and being home alone usually means leaving almost all of the lights on for “protection purposes."

Then the lamp clicks on, and there he is, sitting in the recliner like a concerned parent, waiting for your arrival. 

“…Well?” he says.

You freeze. “…Go to bed.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I am not—”

“You are,” he insists, sitting up straighter. “That’s a smile.”

You drag a hand over your face. “Dustin!”

“You kissed him.”

You stare at him. “…You have no proof.”

“I don’t need proof,” he says, grinning. “I have instincts.”

“Your instincts are wrong.”

“They are never wrong.”

You walk past him. “Goodnight, Dustin.”

“Goodnight,” he calls after you, way too pleased with himself. “…future Mrs. Munson!”

“SHUT UP.”

His laughter follows you down the hall. And despite your protests, you don’t stop smiling.

agh i love reader instert as oc siblings, it might be my favorite style of fic. anywhooooo i hope you all enjoyed<33

taglist is opennnn!

beasbugs:

You’re curled up on the couch, tucked into the corner like you tried to make yourself as small as possible. The TV is still on, volume barely above a whisper, some late-night rerun flickering soft light across your face. A blanket is half-draped over you, slipping off one shoulder like it gave up halfway through the job.

Bucky exhales, something in his chest loosening all at once.

“Doll…” he murmurs under his breath, voice rough with exhaustion and something softer underneath it.

You don’t stir.

Of course you don’t. He can see it immediately—the way your cheek is smushed into the cushion, your mouth parted slightly, breathing deep and steady. Out cold.

You tried to wait up.

He can picture it too clearly: you sitting here, flipping channels, blinking slower and slower, telling yourself just ten more minutes, he’ll be home soon, I’ll stay awake—

—and then losing the fight.

His lips twitch.

“Stubborn,” he whispers, toeing off his boots by the door as quietly as possible.

He moves through the apartment like a shadow, muscle memory guiding him to set his gear down without a sound. The last thing he wants is to wake you up too suddenly. Not when you look this peaceful. Not when he knows how hard you try to stay awake for him every single time.

By the time he gets back to the couch, he’s softer somehow. Slower.

He crouches beside you, metal hand hovering uncertainly in the air for a second before he gently nudges the slipping blanket back up over your shoulder with his flesh one instead.

“Hey,” he murmurs, quieter now, like he’s afraid the word itself might startle you. “Hey, sweetheart… c’mon. Bed.”

You make a small noise.

Not words. Just a sleepy, protesting hum as you burrow deeper into the couch, like you’ve decided this is your home now and you will not be relocated.

Bucky huffs out a silent laugh.

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected.”

He tries again, softer this time, brushing his fingers lightly over your arm. “C’mon, doll. You’re gonna wake up with a crick in your neck.”

Your brows pinch slightly, lips pursing, and for a second he thinks you might actually wake up—but instead, you just mumble something completely unintelligible and tuck your face further into the cushion.

He blinks.

“…Was that English?”

No response.

He presses his lips together, trying very hard not to laugh out loud.

“Alright,” he whispers, resigned. “Plan B.”

Carefully—so carefully—he slides one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. He pauses for half a second, watching your face for any sign of waking.

Nothing.

“Okay,” he breathes, mostly to himself, and then lifts.

You settle into him like you were made for it, instinctively curling closer the second your body leaves the couch. One of your hands fumbles for purchase and ends up clutching the front of his shirt, fingers bunching the fabric.

Bucky freezes.

His heart does something stupid and soft in his chest.

“…Hi,” he whispers, even though you’re still asleep.

You make another little sound, this one quieter, and nuzzle into him.

That’s it. He’s done for.

He carries you down the short hallway like that, holding you a little tighter than necessary, like if he loosens his grip you might disappear. Like this—this right here—is the best part of coming home.

The bedroom door creaks slightly when he nudges it open with his foot, and he winces, glancing down at you.

You don’t wake.

“Good,” he breathes, relieved.

He lowers you onto the bed slowly, easing you down like you’re something fragile, something precious. The second your head hits the pillow, you turn into it, chasing the warmth you just lost.

Bucky barely has time to straighten up before your hand shoots out blindly.

“Buck…”

It’s barely more than a whisper. Sleep-heavy. Soft.

He stills.

“I’m here,” he answers immediately, gentler than anything he’s said all night.

Your eyes don’t open, but your hand finds his wrist, tugging weakly.

“Stay.”

There’s no hesitation.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

He sheds the last of his gear quickly, quieter than before, and slides into bed beside you. The mattress dips, and you immediately roll toward him like it’s instinct, pressing into his side.

Your leg hooks over his. Your face tucks into his shoulder.

Bucky exhales, long and slow, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer.

“There you go,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss into your hair. “That’s better.”

You hum, satisfied, already half gone again.

For a minute, he just holds you. Lets himself feel it. The warmth, the weight, the steady rhythm of your breathing against him. The fact that you waited. That you always wait.

“…You know you don’t gotta do that, right?” he whispers after a while, more to the room than anything. “Stay up for me like that.”

You mumble something into his shirt.

He tilts his head. “What was that?”

A pause. Then, slurred and sleepy:

“Wanna see you.”

His chest tightens.

“You see me every day, doll.”

“Not… same,” you mumble, frowning slightly like you’re arguing in your dreams. “Mission you is… different.”

He huffs softly. “Mission me’s not that great.”

You make a small, disapproving sound.

“Shh. Don’t talk bad ‘bout my boyfriend.”

Bucky blinks.

“…Your boyfriend, huh?”

“Mmhm.”

“Guy sounds like trouble.”

You nod against him, very seriously for someone half-asleep. “Big trouble.”

He can’t help it—he smiles, pressing another kiss to your temple.

“Yeah? You plannin’ on keepin’ him anyway?”

You squint one eye open just enough to look at him, completely unimpressed.

“Obviously.”

Then your eyes slide shut again.

Bucky chuckles under his breath, shaking his head.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Wouldn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

You’re already drifting again, your grip on his shirt loosening slightly as sleep pulls you under. He adjusts the blanket over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders, making sure you’re warm.

For a while, he just watches you.

The way your lashes rest against your cheeks. The slow rise and fall of your chest. The tiny, content sigh you let out when he rubs his thumb along your arm.

This. This is what he comes home for.

Not the quiet. Not the apartment.

You.

His hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, gently guiding you closer until you’re tucked perfectly against him.

“Next time,” he murmurs softly, voice dipping into something warm and teasing, “you wait up for me like that again, I’m carryin’ you straight to bed whether you’re awake or not.”

You hum, barely conscious. “Okay…”

“Yeah?” he asks, amused.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Like it.”

His smile softens.

“Yeah,” he whispers, pressing one last kiss to your hair. “Me too.”

Your breathing evens out again, deeper this time. Fully asleep.

It was no secret that Zoro was the second strongest Straw Hat. He had proved it time and time again, surpassing everyone except maybe Luffy in raw strength.

But surpassing everyone including Luffy in brutality.

Everyone but you found that terrifying. While they were all afraid of his very aggressive nature, you found comfort in it. In fact, he was the crewmember that made you feel the safest.

And not just because he was your boyfriend.

The Merry made it to Reverse Mountain. After a very eventful visit to Loguetown, your crew had reached the most dangerous entryway into the Grand Line, and your captain faced the dangers head on while the rest of you scrambled around behind him.

And then came the drop.

You felt your heart sink when you saw the steepness of your descent, your eyes widening enough to betray your nervousness.

But as soon as his familiar arm wrapped around your waist, anchoring you firmly to his broad chest, you felt your entire body relax. Because you knew his grip was iron-clad - he would never let you fall.

Zoro watched your body relax against his, and a profound sense of satisfaction filled him. He would never openly admit it, he didn't do earnest emotions, but making you feel safe was his biggest pride.

"You okay?" He murmured into your ear, instinctively lowering his face into your neck as your familiar scent filled his nose.

"Yeah, great," you answered with a shaky smile, though your voice came out a little high-pitched. Your hand came to rest atop his on your stomach, his skin warm and soothing under your touch.

"Hmm," he hummed, then pressed the softest kiss to your shoulder - an act that belied his usual aggressive behaviour.

The next time you instinctively sought him out was when the two assassins had escaped while the crew was distracted by the appearance of an island ahead. As you turned to look at the pair, your hand found his and you laced your fingers together, a gesture that spoke louder than any verbal cry for reassurance.

He turned to look at you, and when no one was looking, the smallest of smiles touched his lips as he noticed the ease in your posture when your hand gripped his.

Pride swelled in his chest once more.

You felt his gaze and turned to look at him, your cheeks getting warm, "What?"

"Nothing," he murmured, "You're cute when you rely on me."

Your cheeks burned hotter, your heart skipping a few beats.

In Whiskey Peak, you stuck to his side like glue. Walked side by side, hand in hand, through the streets. Sat at the bar with you on his lap, one arm hooked around your waist while the other held a bottle. If he needed to use a hand, he'd sooner let go of the alcohol than you - which spoke volumes.

During the fight with the hundred Baroque Works agents, Zoro was flying across the tavern cutting them down like they were nothing but air. You tried to join him, but he was a blur of silver and green, and before you could even get to an agent, they were dead.

And then there was the big one.

"Zoro!"

The minute he heard you call him, he cut down the agent in front of him, vaulted over the stairs railing, and put himself between the big guy and you. One hand reaching behind him to make sure you were a safe distance away.

"Go help those two idiots," he nodded towards where Usopp and Sanji sat tied up, without taking his eyes off the massive agent that had threatened you.

You ran over to cut your crewmembers loose without argument, but looked over your shoulder to watch your boyfriend swiftly dispatch that agent too. You were about to take care of the ones who'd tied Usopp and Sanji up, but Zoro cut them down on his way back up to Mister 9, glancing back once to make sure you were okay.

The one rare moment where you protected him came when he faced off against Miss Monday and Mister 9. You let yourself be caught by Mister 9's ropes that shot out from his bats, flinching when he tugged hard enough to string you up like meat.

Zoro growled, "Big mistake."

And swiftly took care of both of them. And another who seemingly came out of nowhere. When it was done, you immediately moved into his arms and he already knew what you needed. With a vulnerability he only showed to you, he wrapped his arms around you and practically crushed you against his chest, his breathing slightly heavy but otherwise unharmed.

Little Garden was...complicated.

But when Mister 3 wiped the paint off your boyfriend's leg, his immediate reaction was to find you. His eyes darted around until they landed on you, standing next to him also half-encased in wax.

"You're okay," he mumbled, more to himself than you, completely ignoring the assassins in front of him.

When you broke free, courtesy of Usopp, you barely ducked a bomb thrown your way by Mister 5. Zoro growled low in his throat, knocking another aside with one of his swords.

"Coward," he glared at the Baroque Works agent. "Focus on me. Unless you're scared, even with me trapped in wax."

That seemed to work, getting Mister 5's attention off you long enough for you to rush to Usopp's aid. Behind you, your boyfriend skillfully held Mister 5 at bay, not even breaking a sweat. As you propped your sharpshooter friend up, however, he insisted on helping Zoro and called out to him to fire a flaming star.

You were left in awe at the sight of Zoro leaping from the wax cake with his swords aflame, before promptly slicing Mister 5's abdomen deeply enough to instantly kill.

But it wasn't just during attacks.

On the ship after your adventure in Little Garden, you would go up to him and just wrap your arms around him or bury your face in his neck. Sometimes burrow into his chest like a kitten seeking warmth.

"Hmm," Zoro would hum in satisfaction, strong arms engulfing you in warmth, safety and comfort.

"You're the embodiment of safety and security, you know that?" You mumbled into his chest, tightening your arms around his bulky torso. "Any time I see you, I know I'm safe."

Zoro's breath caught, any thoughts he had dissipating in his mind at your sincere, heartfelt words. Then he held you a little bit tighter, conveying silently how much your words meant to him, in a way he could never put into words.

Then again in Drum Kingdom, the swordsman was your safety net.

"What the hell are those?" Your eyes widened as you handed Zoro the binoculars, your heart thundering in your chest.

The swordsman settled on hand on the small of your back, a gesture you found to be very calming. Even without words. He pulled you back, settled both hands on your waist, and kissed you. Not for long, but just enough.

So when the monsters came knocking, you didn't feel so afraid.

Every time you thought your strength was waning, every doubt that crossed your mind about getting out of this...you looked over at him fighting his hardest and were instantly motivated to push onward.

And after everything, he still insisted on carrying you through the tunnel up to the castle. He still insisted on lifting you up into Chopper's sleigh.

These weren't acts of service. He believed that word implied obligation. But he did it because he wanted to. Because he needed to. Because it was now a basic instinct to protect you, to care for you, to ensure you could always depend on him.

As you watched him lift Chopper onto his shoulder, your heart felt full. Your chest felt warm. Your stomach fluttered.