ART OF TODAY:

Lost in a New Island

THIS IS MULTI X READER

Synopsis: When you get lost on an island, your favorite pirate starts to search for you.

Luffy

Luffy did not get why everyone was freaking out so much.

“[Your Name] is tough! They’ll be fine!” he had said, hands behind his head as the rest of the crew scrambled to search for you.

But even as he said it, something inside him nagged at him.

Sure, you were strong. But you were also alone. And that was not okay.

So, with his usual carefree attitude, Luffy shot his arm out and launched himself into the jungle, swinging from trees like a wild monkey. He laughed as he flew through the air, dodging birds and snapping twigs beneath him.

“[Your Name]!!” he called, his voice echoing through the thick canopy.

Nothing.

His grin faltered—just a little.

Then, finally, he spotted a familiar figure sitting on a fallen log, looking frustrated but unharmed.

“There you are!”

You looked up, eyes wide as he came crashing down in front of you.

“Luffy?!”

He landed with a bounce, dusting himself off like nothing happened. “Took me forever to find you!”

You scoffed. “Yeah, because you were probably messing around instead of actually looking!”

Luffy grinned, unfazed. “I found you, didn’t I?”

You sighed, standing up. “Come on, let’s just get back—”

Before you could take another step, he stretched his arm out, grabbing your wrist.

You blinked. “Luffy?”

His grip was firm. “You scared me, y’know.”

You blinked at his serious tone. “I—”

But then, just like that, the moment passed. His grin returned, wide and carefree.

“Let’s go! Race you back!”

And before you could protest, he grabbed you and launched the both of you into the trees, laughing all the way.

Zoro

Zoro’s thoughts were a mess.

He couldn’t believe this was happening.

Of course, the moment you got separated from the crew, he had promised to find you. No one else could, he figured, since everyone else had gone into full panic mode.

It wasn’t that he was worried, not exactly. He was just… annoyed.

You were strong. You could handle yourself. Still, it didn’t sit right with him that you were out there, alone in a place like this.

The dense jungle did not help his mood. He was used to finding his way in places like this, but this island was a mess—thick vines, strange plants, and the damn humidity messing with his clothes.

After what felt like an eternity of searching, he finally spotted you, sitting by a small creek, looking up at the sky.

“There you are,” Zoro muttered under his breath.

You blinked at him in surprise. “Zoro?”

He crossed his arms, relieved but unwilling to show it. “I told you I’d find you.”

“You could’ve been looking harder,” you teased, standing up.

He gave you a flat look. “I’m not the one who wandered off. Next time, stick close.”

You smirked, eyes scanning the jungle around you. “You’re lucky I’m not really lost. Still, thanks for coming after me.”

He turned his back to you. “Let’s get back to the ship before the others burn everything down.”

You followed after him, silently grateful that despite Zoro’s gruff exterior, his actions spoke louder than words.

Sanji

Sanji’s heart was racing as he searched the island for you.

He had already cooked two meals for the crew in hopes that you’d come back hungry, but none of that mattered now.

You were missing. Alone.

It was unacceptable.

The second he realized you weren’t on the ship anymore, he threw himself into action, pushing past his usual calm composure. You were his priority now.

His thoughts raced as he walked through the dense jungle. He imagined every horrible possibility—what if you were captured by some monster, or worse, hurt?

“[Your Name]!!” he called, voice straining with worry.

A rustle in the trees ahead made him freeze. His eyes widened when he saw you, sitting near a large rock.

“Thank the heavens…” He rushed toward you, kneeling in front of you. “I’ve been frantic! You’re alright?”

You blinked, slightly confused but also touched. “Sanji, I’m fine. Just got a little lost.”

“Lost?” He pulled you into a fierce hug, hands cupping your face as he inspected you closely. “I was so worried! Don’t ever wander off like that again!”

You chuckled, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

His eyes softened, though the intensity of his emotions remained. “Then let me take care of you. I’ll make you the best meal you’ve ever had, my darling.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sanji, we need to get back to the ship first.”

He looked at you, eyes softening. “I’ll carry you there if I must.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“And you love me,” he replied smoothly, pulling you into his arms.

Usopp

Usopp was terrified.

His heart was racing, and his legs were shaking with every step he took. He couldn’t believe it—you were out there somewhere, lost.

“Okay, okay, just calm down, Usopp,” he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “You can do this.”

But even as he said it, his thoughts wandered. He knew how capable you were, but there were so many unknowns in the jungle. Monsters, traps, dangers he could only imagine.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of you—sitting on the ground, staring at the sky as if you didn’t have a care in the world.

“[Your Name]!” Usopp exclaimed, a breath of relief escaping his chest.

You looked up in surprise, blinking as you registered him. “Usopp?”

He practically ran to you, his heart still pounding. “I’m so glad you’re okay! I thought—”

You stood up, brushing off your pants. “I was fine. But I’m glad you found me.”

Usopp gave you a nervous laugh. “I had to fight through countless dangers just to get here. There were—uh, there were wolves. And some crazy jungle beasts! You wouldn’t believe—”

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t run from a butterfly, did you?”

His face turned red. “I did not! The butterfly was suspicious!”

You laughed, and Usopp felt his chest warm. He took your hand gently. “Let’s get back to the others.”

Shanks

Shanks felt something he hadn’t in years: panic.

It wasn’t like him to lose his cool. But the moment he realized you were missing, his calm and collected demeanor cracked.

You were important to him. And the thought of you being out there alone—it didn’t sit right.

He tried not to let the worry show, but the feeling only intensified as he searched the island. The jungle seemed to stretch on forever, and every rustling noise made him tense.

It wasn’t until he finally spotted you sitting by the shore, gazing out at the ocean, that the tightness in his chest released.

“You’re okay?” His voice was soft, a little rough with emotion.

You turned, smiling at the sight of him. “Shanks! Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t get lost, really.”

He let out a relieved laugh, though there was still a trace of worry in his eyes. “Don’t scare me like that again, alright?”

You nodded, standing up and walking toward him. “I’m sorry, but it’s nice to have a little quiet time. Thanks for coming after me.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “Always. Let’s head back before the crew starts causing chaos.”

Buggy

Buggy was freaking out.

“WHERE IS [YOUR NAME]?! WHAT IF THEY’VE BEEN TAKEN BY SOME MONSTERS?!”

His crew was starting to wonder if their captain had completely lost it. He had been running around the jungle, shouting your name for what felt like hours.

The truth? He was terrified.

It wasn’t just the fear of losing you; it was the fear that he had failed.

When he finally spotted you sitting near a stream, his relief was almost overwhelming.

“[YOUR NAME]!” he shouted, rushing over to you.

You barely had time to react before he was practically throwing himself at you, hugging you like his life depended on it.

“You’re alright! Oh, thank the gods!”

You blinked, confused but also a little touched. “Buggy, I’m fine. I wasn’t in any danger.”

He pulled back, his expression dramatic. “Don’t you dare leave me alone like that again! I couldn’t bear it!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, okay, I won’t do it again.”

But Buggy was already smirking, his usual bravado back in full force. “Guess you missed me, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

But the fact that he had come for you, no questions asked, made your heart flutter just a little.

↫𝒞𝓊𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓈↬

Synopsis; After a particularly rough mission, you are welcomed by your favorite speedster and his warmth.

Warnings; none! <3

The mission had been an absolute disaster—or at least that’s how it felt. Every step back into the X-Mansion was like dragging lead weights, and your entire body screamed for rest. You had enough energy to kick off your boots but not enough to make it to your room. Instead, you flopped onto the couch in the common room, burying your face into a throw pillow with a muffled groan.

The familiar whoosh of displaced air and the sound of a chip bag crinkling were your only warning before Peter Maximoff appeared, standing over you like some kind of smug vending machine mascot.

“Well, well, look who’s all tuckered out,” he teased, dropping onto the couch beside you.

You didn’t bother lifting your head. “Go away, Peter.”

“Nah,” he said, already popping a chip into his mouth. “This is way more entertaining. Plus, I brought snacks. You should be thanking me.”

“I can’t even move,” you muttered, your voice muffled by the pillow.

Peter snorted, tossing the bag of chips onto the coffee table. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here. Move over.”

You turned your head just enough to squint at him. “What?”

“Scoot,” he repeated, nudging your shoulder. “You look like you need some of my patented Peter Maximoff TLC. And by that, I mean cuddles.”

“Since when do you cuddle anyone?”

“Since now,” he said with a grin. “Come on, don’t make me beg. It’s undignified.”

With a dramatic sigh, you shifted over slightly, allowing him to wedge himself beside you. He wasted no time draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his chest, tugging the blanket from the back of the couch to cover both of you.

“There. Cozy, right?” he said, leaning back and resting his head against the couch.

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “This is weirdly nice.”

“‘Weirdly nice’ is my middle name,” Peter quipped, his hand coming up to trace absentminded circles on your arm.

For a guy who couldn’t sit still for more than five seconds, Peter had a surprisingly calming presence. The tension in your shoulders started to melt away, and you found yourself sinking deeper into the cushions.

“Thanks, Pete,” you murmured, your voice soft.

He looked down at you, his usual smirk replaced by something gentler. “Hey, you did good out there. Don’t let your brain tell you otherwise, okay?”

You gave a small nod, your eyes growing heavy.

“Go ahead and sleep,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’ll stick around, just in case you need me.”

The last thing you heard before drifting off was the sound of him quietly humming some old 80s song, the warmth of his arm around you lulling you into peace.

I HAVE A SANJI ENEMIES TOO LOVERS IN MY DRAFTS, ALMOST DONE W IT TOO. I AM SO SCARED BC I FEEL LIKE ITS RUSHED. 😭😭😭😭

彡Allies (or Roommates 😉)彡

Synopsis; Basically, reader with Deadpool's personality

Warnings; Deadpool's personality.

“Can you stop bouncing around for one damn second?” Logan growled, his claws halfway extended as he glared at you.

You peeked out from behind a tree, grinning like you’d just found a box of explosives labeled do not touch. “Stop bouncing? Bouncing on what exactly, honey badger? You naughty bear! But anyways, bouncing is literally my thing. Well, that and making grown men cry. Speaking of which, do you need a tissue for all that gruff man pain you’re radiating?”

Logan ran a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. “I should’ve left you back at the mansion.”

“You say that every time, and yet, here we are. Together. Like peanut butter and jelly. Or whiskey and bad decisions. Or—you’re gonna love this one—claws and quips.” You spread your arms dramatically. “See? Perfect pair.”

Logan glared. “I’ll give you ten seconds to start acting serious before I—”

“Snikt me into ribbons? Oh, Logan, you romantic devil.” You clasped your hands over your chest, batting your eyelashes. “You’re always threatening me. It’s like foreplay.”

He groaned audibly and turned back to the trail, trying to ignore you.

“Aw, don’t walk away, sugar bear!” you called, jogging to catch up. “We’re just getting to the good stuff. I had, like, three more zingers about your height lined up. Oh, wait—four if you count the one about the step stool.”

Logan didn’t even pause. “I’m too old for this.”

“You’re right. You are ancient.” You walked backward in front of him, ticking off points on your fingers. “Wrinkles, grumpy attitude, that permanent smell of cigars and regret—classic ‘dad who went out for milk and never came back’ vibes. Except you came back, and now we’re stuck with each other. It’s poetic, really.”

Logan stopped, his claws popping out with a loud snikt.

You held your hands up. “Whoa, whoa. Easy there, Freddy Krueger. I’m on your side, remember? You handle the claws, and I’ll handle the witty one-liners.”

“You mean the non-stop verbal diarrhea?” Logan growled, his claws retracting.

“Potato, po-tah-to,” you said with a shrug. “Besides, you love it. Admit it, Logan—you’d be bored out of your mind without me. Who else is gonna make jokes about your weird fetish for flannel?”

Logan’s lip twitched—just barely—but you caught it.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, pointing at him. “You’re smiling. That’s it. I’ve broken the Wolverine. Next stop: Hallmark movies.”

He turned and started walking, muttering, “I need a drink.”

You zipped in front of him again, walking backward with your hands on your hips. “You’re stuck with me, bub. Just think of me as your wise-cracking, ridiculously attractive conscience. Except I don’t actually care if you do the right thing, as long as we get to blow something up along the way.”

Logan gave you a long, tired look. “You keep this up, and I’m gonna let the bad guys have you.”

“Aw, you say that now, but wait until I save your hairy butt with my ingenious improvisation skills. You’ll be begging to team up with me again,” you teased, leaning in with a wink.

“Not a chance,” he replied, but there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You love me!” you called after him, skipping to catch up. “Admit it!”

“Shut up,” Logan muttered, though he didn’t sound entirely convincing.

IM SO SORRY TO WHOEVER JUST MESSAGED ME- I marked it as spam I didn't know why you were messaging me 😭😭😭 I'm a fucking dumb ass I'm so sorry

Someone tell me how to watch Step Up illegally plz-

wooohhhh....

New story coming out tomorrow or Thurs! (Depends on when I'm done and my motivation)

For now, what is your favorite band as of right now? For me, I've been really into Ghost recently 👻🎸

ꜱᴛᴏʟᴇɴ 'ʙᴏʀʀᴏᴡᴇᴅ' ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ

Synopsis: Peter Maximoff has a habit of borrowing little things—your scarf, your hoodie, even your headphones—and you’re finally fed up with his carelessness. But when you confront him, his explanation catches you completely off guard: he isn’t just borrowing, he’s keeping pieces of you close. As you unravel the truth behind his impulsive actions, you discover that sometimes, even speedsters need someone to anchor them—and maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind being the one he keeps running back to. Warnings: None! <3

It starts small. A scarf you draped over the back of your chair one evening vanishes without a trace. Days later, you spot it wound loosely around Peter’s neck as he lounges on the couch, the ends fluttering whenever he shifts.

Then it’s your favorite hoodie—a soft, worn thing that feels like a hug in fabric form. You find it carelessly tossed across the rec room sofa, smelling faintly of cool air and his cologne.

You tell yourself it’s harmless, even charming. Peter is Peter: the kind of person who moves too fast to consider boundaries. But when your headphones disappear and reappear in his room—one earbud dangling by a precarious wire—you decide you’ve had enough.

The next time he zips into the room, you plant yourself in front of him, hands on your hips.

"Peter Maximoff," you say, your tone sharper than usual. "We need to talk."

He skids to a stop, blinking at you with wide, guileless eyes. "Uh, okay? What’s up?"

"Stop stealing my stuff."

His expression morphs into mock offense, a hand flying to his chest. "Stealing? That’s a harsh word. I’m merely borrowing. Temporarily."

"Temporarily?" You arch an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "My scarf, my hoodie, my headphones? Borrowing means you return them intact."

"Fine," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "You caught me. But I swear, I’ve got a good reason."

"Let’s hear it."

He hesitates, shifting his weight from foot to foot. For once, Peter looks out of place, like he’d rather be anywhere but here. His usual smirk falters, and something softer flickers across his face—something vulnerable.

"I—" He stops, sighing again, before finally meeting your eyes. "They smell like you, okay?"

You blink, unsure you heard him right. "What?"

"They smell like you," he repeats, quieter this time. His cheeks flush pink, and he looks down, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "The scarf, the hoodie… even your stupid headphones. They smell like your shampoo, or your perfume, or just… you."

He swallows, his voice almost too low to hear. "When I’m not around you, it makes me feel like you’re still close. Like I’m not..." His words trail off, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "I don’t know. Alone, I guess."

For a moment, you’re stunned. This is Peter—confident, reckless, always in motion. But now he’s standing here, red-faced and vulnerable, avoiding your gaze like he’s afraid of what you might say.

When you step closer, his head snaps up, his gray eyes searching your face.

"Peter," you say softly, your tone gentle now. "You could’ve just told me."

"Yeah, well." He shrugs, forcing a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Talking about feelings isn’t really my thing, you know? Speeding away from them? Way more my style."

You can’t help but laugh, your chest tightening in a way that feels both warm and bittersweet. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously charming, right?" He tries to smirk, but his voice still holds that edge of hesitation, like he’s testing the waters.

Shaking your head, you smile. "Next time, just ask. You don’t need to steal my stuff to feel close to me."

His grin widens, but there’s a softness to it now, his usual cocky mask slipping just enough for you to see the relief beneath.

"Really?"

"Really," you say, your smile growing. "But if you touch my headphones again, I’m going to kill you."

Peter’s laughter rings out as he zips away, scarf trailing behind him like a silver banner. But later, when you find the hoodie neatly folded on your bed—your favorite scent lingering faintly on the fabric—you can’t help but smile. As much as Peter runs from his emotions, he always finds a way back to you.

CHAT I'M BOUTTA-

AAAHHHHHHJAJAJAJAJAJAJJAJAJAJAAAAAAA-