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Katakuri One Piece - Blog Posts
2024 Christmas Event
Event Masterlist
Day 9: Cookies, Charlotte Katakuri
Warnings: Fluff, the chefs being total fanboys and fangirls
(_____) woke up all alone in their giant bed. The homies all around the room were still sleeping and the sun hadn’t even peaked out yet. They tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t. So they quietly got up and wandered to the kitchen.
The robe around them kept them warm as they made some toast for themselves. It was unusually quiet in the mansion on Komugi Island. As they looked around the kitchen a package caught their eye. (_____) grabbed a knife and opened the box, there inside was a prototype copy of their very first cookbook. A huge smile took over their face as they placed the knife down, huggin the book tightly. Immediately they got inspired and set up the cookbook.
The chefs tiredly walked the halls of the mansion. Arriving at their destination with a yawn only for the yawn to turn into a gasp. There in front of them was the other master of the house, (_____), baking like an absolute maniac. They almost looked like a blur going back and forth between the different treats they were making.
Hours and hours passed as the chefs happily watched (_____) enjoy themselves while baking. They were so happy that the chefs felt like crying. Not even the sound of heavy boots walking made them stop looking. Only a slight cough did and they turned to see their other master, Katakuri. They all squeaked in fear as he asked what they were doing staring at his lover. The chefs explained how happy they felt seeing (_____) happy and watching them bake with fear coursing through their body.
”Oh! Katakuri!” (_____) said happily as they came over to him. “Come, I have so much to show you!” They said and dragged him into the kitchen. They showed him all the different types of Christmas cookies they had been making since this morning. And the chefs' hearts nearly exploded when they saw their stone cold master Katakuri taking his time and trying every single dessert (_____) made. They were so excited they all fainted making (_____) laugh.
The two spent the rest of their afternoon in the kitchen eating sugary Christmas cookies. Katakuri praising (_____) for each and everyone they made.
Katakuri appreciation post. No reason for it, I just thought of him and how amazingly edible he is and I thought he deserved some appreciation for being so versatile :)
Whilst I haven't reached WCI yet, I am aware of Katakuri and some of his powers. As such, I'd like to pose the following questions about Charlotte Katakuri:
Is his mochi edible?
Can he change the flavour of his mochi?
Does the mochi have any nutritional value?
If someone took a bite out of Katakuri's mochi and he turned back into flesh from mochi, would the piece that was bitten off stay as mochi or turn to flesh?
Idk, me and a few friends were just chatting about katakuri and this just popped into my head.
KATACORA MY BELOVED
AU where cora lives and is married into the Charlotte family or smth idk
My fav little wedding cake toppers…
Katacora is peak
Katacora is life
My beloved is so talented omfg eating this amazing art nom nom
KATACORA MY BELOVED
Katakuri my second most beloved donut man ( second to Ace 🤭) 🍩🍩💕
Milf Katakuri
(MY WIFE NOT YOURS)
Just a little Katakuri drawing I did, idk if I like it that much 😭 But I love Katakuri🩷💗❤️
Katakuri with his brother facial hair
Eso es todo
Oh well
No scarf version
If you wear sunglasses no one can see what you are looking at.
TW: ⚠️katakuri flat ass⚠️
I'm a bit delulu with my man because this is the canon
CRAWLING
ALL OVER
MY HEART
happy birthday to me 🍩💗
Hi! Could you write about katakuri and his childhood sweetheart. Like they were pretty close friends since childhood, she has been friends with him from when he didn't used to cover his face. But they never said 'I love you' to each other. And now that they've grown up, Big mom has asked(ordered) the reader to marry Cracker/Oven. She maybe confesses her love to katakuri, but him being the perfect son he is, doesn't want to disobey his mom, so he let the marriage happen.
I know requests are off, but if you like the idea, please do write about it, idc even if it takes like a month or two. I'm absolutely in love with your writing.
oohh! that is good! tis not much but, hope u like this!
The Sweetness We Never Tasted
You’ve loved Katakuri since you were kids. But Big Mom has chosen another path for you—and he won’t fight her to stop it.
katakuri x reader
tags: sfw, arranged marriage, childhood sweethearts, angst
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe, and akward
word count: 1.1k
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
The air in Totto Land always smelled faintly of sugar, but today it was too sweet—so sweet it made your stomach twist.
You stood in the rose garden behind the Chateau, the very place where you and Katakuri used to sneak pastries as children, hiding behind the candy-cane columns and daring each other to steal more from the kitchen. Those days felt like dreams now—soft, distant, and a little too painful to look at directly.
And now, you were waiting for him.
You clenched your fists, heart pounding. He was late. Or maybe he was avoiding you.
No. He wouldn’t.
“(Y/N),” a deep voice rumbled behind you.
You turned.
Katakuri stood there, tall as ever, shadows cutting across his face from the low afternoon sun. His scarf was on, of course. He didn’t show his mouth anymore. Not to anyone.
Except you—once.
"You're late," you said, forcing a smile.
"I came as soon as I could."
There was always something different in his voice when he spoke to you. A softness hidden under the gravel. He glanced around before walking over to stand beside you, close enough that his arm nearly brushed yours. He didn’t touch. He never did. Not anymore.
"So..." You stared down at your boots, trying to summon the courage that had kept you alive in this family all these years. "Have you heard?"
He didn’t answer immediately. The silence dragged between you like the end of a rope—fraying, tension snapping strand by strand.
"Yes," he finally said. “Mama told me.”
You swallowed hard. “She wants me to marry Cracker.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t react. Only a subtle clenching of his jaw beneath the scarf gave him away.
“I didn’t think she’d do it,” you whispered. “I thought… I thought she’d at least ask me. Or you would. Before it got this far.”
Katakuri turned his face away, eyes focused on something in the distance. Maybe he was looking at the horizon. Maybe he just couldn’t bear to look at you.
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “It makes sense politically.”
You laughed bitterly. “Of course. Because that’s what marriage is in this family. Strategy.”
Another beat of silence. Your voice shook when you said his name.
“Katakuri.”
He looked at you now. Directly. It hurt.
“I need to know,” you said, barely above a whisper. “Did you ever feel it too?”
His shoulders tensed.
“When we were kids… when we were teens… when we’d sneak out after dinner to watch the stars from the rooftops… when you showed me your mouth and told me I was the only one you weren’t ashamed around… Did that mean nothing to you?”
You didn’t mean to cry, but the tears came anyway—quiet, burning down your cheeks.
“I always thought we’d have time,” you said. “That one day we’d stop pretending and actually say it. I waited for you to say it first. I waited for years.”
He took a step toward you. His hands twitched like he wanted to hold yours.
“I wanted to,” he said.
"Then why didn’t you?"
"Because I knew this would happen."
You blinked. “What?”
“I knew Mama would never allow it,” he said, voice low. “She doesn’t choose based on love. She chooses for power, for bloodlines, for strength. Cracker is a biscuit soldier commander—strong, obedient. You’ve always been one of her favorites. Of course she'd put you with someone she trusts.”
“But you’re her favorite too. More than Cracker. If you’d said something—if you’d just told her we wanted—”
“I couldn’t,” he cut in. “I’m not just her son, (Y/N). I’m her soldier. Her perfect creation. I do not defy her.”
You stared at him. “Not even for me?”
His silence was louder than any answer.
You stepped back like he’d slapped you. “You would’ve let me go without a word. Without knowing.”
“I thought it would be easier,” he said. “If you hated me. It would hurt less.”
You covered your mouth, choking on the sound that wanted to escape. “You coward.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve fought for you,” you said. “I would’ve burned everything down for you.”
“I know.”
You turned to leave. You didn’t want him to see you fall apart.
But his hand caught your wrist.
“(Y/N).”
You froze.
“I love you.”
Your breath hitched. You turned to face him again, slowly.
“What?”
He stepped closer. “I loved you then. I love you now. I’ll love you after the wedding, and I’ll hate myself every day for not stopping it.”
You stared at him, heart breaking in slow motion. “Then stop it.”
He shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Why?” Your voice cracked. “Why not fight for once? Why not just—”
“Because if I do, Mama will kill someone,” he said. “Maybe Cracker. Maybe you. Maybe one of your crewmates. You think she wouldn’t?”
Your voice died in your throat.
“I can’t risk your life,” he said. “I’d rather lose you than bury you.”
You collapsed into his arms without thinking, fists pounding against his chest.
“I hate you,” you sobbed. “I hate you for not loving me enough to try.”
He didn’t say anything. Just held you, trembling.
The embrace didn’t last long enough.
The wedding day arrived too quickly.
You wore the gown Mama picked. Something ridiculous and pastel with lace up to your chin and jewels that dug into your collarbones. Cracker looked pleased enough, though he kept grumbling about how annoying formal events were. He barely looked at you.
Your mind was elsewhere anyway.
Katakuri stood near the front, expression blank. You couldn’t read anything behind that scarf and those crimson eyes.
You were numb as the vows were spoken. Your lips moved, but they weren’t your words. When the crowd cheered, it felt like your ears had gone underwater.
Your heart stayed behind in that garden.
That night, you sat alone on the balcony while the festivities carried on below. Cracker was off getting drunk with Opera and Snack, bragging about how ‘lucky’ he was to get someone like you. You felt sick.
Behind you, the door creaked open.
You didn’t turn. You knew the footsteps.
“Shouldn’t you be with your husband?” Katakuri asked quietly.
You didn’t answer.
“I shouldn’t have come.”
“Then don’t stay.”
He hesitated. You could hear the tightness in his breath.
“Did you mean it?” you asked.
“Mean what?”
“When you said you love me.”
“Yes.”
“Do you still?”
“Yes.”
You turned to him. “Then why did you let them take me?”
He looked like he wanted to shatter.
“Because I thought I was strong,” he said. “But I’m just her puppet, (Y/N). We all are.”
You walked up to him, slowly.
“I would’ve run with you,” you said. “I would’ve left everything behind.”
He looked down at you. “You still could.”
“No,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”
You leaned up and kissed the scarf covering his mouth, just once.
Then walked past him, back into the room.
That night, Katakuri stood alone on the edge of the island, staring out at the moonlit sea.
He didn't cry.
But if he had, the ocean might’ve wept with him.
Sugar & Spite
One stolen moment, one shared night, and a love neither of you saw coming—proving that even the coldest bonds can bloom into something warm.
(CH 1/3) (CH 2/3) (CH 3/3)
katakuri x fem!reader a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc tags: sfw, arrange marriage, enemies to lovers typeshi(?), fluff warnings: poorly written, ooc maybe idk words count: 1.3k
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
It was strange, waking up and realizing you didn’t hate him anymore.
Stranger still? Realizing he’d never hated you either.
After the merienda incident, things shifted in quiet, deliberate ways. Katakuri started coming back to the suite earlier. You noticed the scarf coming off more often. Sometimes, he didn’t even bother tying it back on at all when it was just the two of you.
You began training together in the mornings and winding down together at night — not with arguments, but silence, companionable and calm.
One evening, you both ended up sprawled on the same couch — you flipping through a book, him finishing his tea.
You felt his gaze on you more often now. Less guarded. More curious.
"You always this quiet when you're not teasing me?" you asked, voice soft.
"You prefer the teasing?"
You smiled, just a little. "Maybe."
He watched you, his expression unreadable. “You're not what I expected.”
You leaned your head back. “Good or bad?”
“…Good.”
A beat of silence passed before he added, “You saw my face. You didn’t laugh. You didn’t flinch.”
You turned to him. “Because I didn’t see a monster.”
His eyes softened. The silence between you grew warmer.
"Come here," he said suddenly.
You blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I want to show you something."
He reached for your hand, tugging gently. You followed him through the estate, through familiar halls now tinged with something new. Trust. Anticipation.
He led you to the garden where you’d caught him before — the sugar apple tree still blooming, a blanket laid out, steam rising from a fresh pot of tea. And donuts. Of course.
But this time, he didn't sit on the other side.
He sat beside you.
And when you looked at him — really looked — you found him already watching.
"You make it hard to keep walls up," he said, low and honest.
“Good,” you replied. “You don’t need them with me.”
A long pause passed before he reached out, fingers brushing your jaw. “May I?”
Your heart thudded once — loud, steady — and you nodded.
He leaned in. The kiss was slow. Gentle. A question you both already knew the answer to.
When you pulled apart, his hand lingered on your cheek.
"I didn’t want this marriage,” he whispered, “but I’m glad I got you.”
That night, something changed.
The couch between your futons disappeared. So did the futons.
You shared a bed for the first time — not out of obligation, but choice.
And in the quiet of the dark, when his hand found your waist and your breath caught in your throat, you realized how easily the cold could melt.
His lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper — less guarded. Your fingers curled in his hair, pulling the scarf loose, revealing the mouth you’d grown fond of.
He worshipped you like you were made of sugar and fire.
You returned the favor, gently, deliberately — showing him with every touch that he was wanted, that he was safe, that you weren’t going anywhere.
Soft sighs, heated whispers, and tangled limbs followed.
You didn’t fall asleep until hours later, curled against him, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around you.
"Y/N," he murmured, almost asleep.
"Yeah?"
“…'m glad you're here.”
A Few Years Later…
There were two sets of tiny feet running through the garden now.
A little girl with your eyes and Katakuri’s frown chased her brother, who was trying very hard to climb a tree — and failing spectacularly.
“Be careful!” you called, hands on your hips.
“Papa said I could!” the boy shouted.
You gave Katakuri a look. He shrugged from where he was lounging nearby, half a donut in his hand and an unbothered smile on his face.
“I said try, not succeed.”
You rolled your eyes and settled beside him. “They’re gonna break something.”
He glanced at you. “Like I broke my reputation falling for you?”
You blinked. “Did you just flirt with me?”
“…Maybe.”
You chuckled and leaned against him. “I liked it.”
He kissed the top of your head.
The children squealed in the background, fighting over who got the last donut.
You sighed. “They're exactly like you.”
“Smart, strong, and addicted to sugar?”
You snorted. “Exactly.”
He looked at you then, warm and full of pride. “I never imagined I'd have this.”
You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.
“Neither did I.”
But you were glad you did.
BONUS SCENE:
You were only five months pregnant when the entire Big Mom household decided that you officially needed a twenty-four-hour protection detail.
Not because of enemy threats.
No — because you’d launched a fruit knife at Oven when he tried to touch your mochi-stuffed chocolate croissant.
It missed his ear by an inch.
“She’s hormonal,” Katakuri said flatly, standing behind you with his arms crossed and the most terrifyingly calm face in the room.
“I’m pregnant, not weak,” you muttered, throwing your legs over Katakuri’s lap and reaching for the aforementioned croissant. “Touch my food again and I’ll stab with accuracy next time.”
The room was silent.
Snack visibly gulped.
Perospero whispered something like “remind me never to get on her bad side” which made Katakuri shoot him a glare so sharp he nearly choked on his tongue.
“Don’t comment on my wife,” Katakuri said darkly, one hand resting protectively over your belly.
You grinned. “Aww. Look at you. Already a possessive dad.”
He cleared his throat and looked away.
You were used to him being ridiculously overprotective since you started showing. He’d physically moved an entire dinner table because he thought the seat was too close to the fire. When you sneezed, he’d almost called the family doctor. When your ankles started swelling, he threatened to drag Smoothie to personally drain the excess fluids from your legs.
It would’ve been annoying… if it wasn’t kind of adorable.
“You’re not allowed to walk without me,” he said one evening while tucking you into bed. “Or lift anything heavier than a spoon.”
You stared. “What about a fork?”
“…I’ll think about it.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m in love.”
That shut you up.
Because, yeah… he was. And so were you.
You went into labor a few weeks early.
Katakuri didn’t panic — but he did punch through a wall on the way to the birthing room. Cracker helped you get there while yelling at him to focus, while Smoothie held your hand and ordered everyone else out with a wave of her sword.
You refused to scream. You were too damn stubborn.
Instead, you gritted your teeth and glared at Katakuri every time the contractions hit. “This is your fault.”
He held your hand and nodded solemnly. “I know.”
“And if you ever breathe on me the wrong way again after this—”
“I won’t.”
“You better still want more kids after this.”
“…We’ll talk.”
The moment your first baby cried, everything stopped.
Katakuri froze — eyes wide, mouth open, like someone had just dropped the world in his lap.
You looked at your daughter, then at him.
He held her with the gentleness of a man who’d spent his whole life holding back — and was finally allowed to let go.
“She looks like you,” he whispered.
You smiled weakly, exhausted and dazed. “No, she’s prettier.”
He kissed your forehead, then your hand.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“For being mine.”
A Year Later…
“You’re sure she doesn’t have mochi powers?”
“I think she just likes chewing on her brother.”
Katakuri sighed as he watched your daughter nibble on her twin’s arm like a teething donut. You sipped your tea, watching them from the garden swing, belly already swelling with your third.
“You said you wanted a big family.”
“I didn’t know I’d be outnumbered.”
You smirked and leaned against his shoulder. “You’re a war general. You’ll survive.”
He kissed your temple, arms wrapping around you.
And in the sunlight, surrounded by kids, chaos, and too many donuts, the two of you found peace in the most unexpected place.
Each other.
Sugar & Spite
Shared silences, reluctant teamwork, and one very accidental merienda — things are slowly shifting between you and Katakuri, whether you like it or not.
(CH 1/3) (CH 2/3) (CH 3/3)
katakuri x fem!reader a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc tags: sfw, arrange marriage, enemies to lovers typeshi(?), fluff warnings: poorly written, ooc maybe idk words count: 767
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
Married life, for all its dramatics, was remarkably uneventful.
You trained. He trained.
You ate. He ate — alone.
You slept on opposite sides of the suite, a whole couch separating your twin futons like it were a chasm made of disdain and mutual discomfort.
Still, the quiet had begun to change.
Not soften. Just… fill with different things.
You noticed it when you trained together.
At first, Katakuri wouldn’t spar with you — only watched from the sidelines with crossed arms and a face carved from stone.
But one morning, without a word, he stepped into the ring and beckoned.
You raised a brow. “You sure? Wouldn’t want to chip your perfect reputation.”
“Try not to die,” was all he said.
You lunged.
The fight lasted minutes. Sharp. Calculated. Brutal. Neither of you held back — not out of aggression, but something more primal. Something like curiosity. Respect hidden under heavy layers of sarcasm.
He pinned you once.
You flipped him once.
And by the time you both were catching your breath, you realized… this was the first time you’d looked him in the eye without wanting to throw a plate at his face.
It happened again the next day. And the next.
Soon, the guards were placing bets.
Another shift came during a mission.
You were sent together to oversee a transport of rare ingredients for Big Mom’s banquet — the sort of job usually given to siblings who worked well together.
You were not those siblings.
But despite the chilly atmosphere, the operation was smooth. Efficient. Maybe even too efficient, because when the job ended early, you found yourself in a quiet café at the edge of Totto Land.
Sharing tea.
“You always this quiet when not throwing punches?” you asked.
Katakuri sipped. “You always this nosy when not polishing your weapon?”
You snorted. “Fair.”
Silence. Then:
“…You’re not bad in the field.”
You blinked.
“…You too,” you replied cautiously, like the words were delicate glass.
Then, dryly: “Though you’re kind of a pain.”
His mouth twitched.
Was that a smile?
You blinked and looked away.
Nah. Must’ve been the wind.
It happened the next afternoon.
You came back to the estate early, your footsteps light, mind still buzzing from the strange calm that had started forming between you two. You hadn’t seen Katakuri since morning. Probably training. Or brooding.
You turned the corner of the west hall and—
Crunch.
You froze.
There he was.
Not in battle stance. Not dressed for war.
Just… sitting under the shade of a sugar apple tree in the inner garden, cross-legged on a blanket, a tall pile of donuts beside him.
Mouth uncovered.
Eyes closed.
Chewing slowly, almost in bliss, like he was savoring the flavor with his whole soul.
You blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then, without thinking, your boot tapped a rock.
His head snapped toward you.
Time stopped.
You met his eyes. His real ones. Clear, sharp — and full of horror.
He reached for his scarf too late.
“You—” he started, standing up so quickly the plate of donuts nearly flipped. “You weren’t supposed to—”
“What, see you enjoying your afternoon snacks?” you said slowly.
His face hardened. “Don’t mock me.”
You crossed your arms. “Why would I mock you?”
“You’re going to tell the others. Or laugh. Or—”
You tilted your head. “You’re kinda handsome.”
He froze.
“What?”
“I said,” you repeated, unfazed, “you’re kinda handsome.”
“You—”
“Don’t get cocky. I said kinda.”
He gaped at you like you’d grown a second head. You, in turn, gave him a blank stare as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Then added, just to twist the knife: “Your mouth is a little big, though.”
“You—!!”
You smirked, turning to walk away.
“Wait.”
His voice was quieter now. Not angry. Confused. Almost… vulnerable.
You turned back.
He looked at you like you were a puzzle with missing pieces. Like he didn’t understand why you weren’t disgusted. Why you weren’t laughing.
“You’re not gonna say anything?”
You shrugged. “Not my business. But hey—”
You tossed a donut from his plate into the air, caught it, and took a bite.
“—thanks for the snack.”
He stared.
You winked.
And then left him there, standing under the tree, mouth still slightly agape, eyes tracking the place where you’d stood.
That night, for the first time, you found a small box of freshly made donuts placed carefully on your side of the suite.
No note.
Just a silent offering.
You smiled faintly and popped one into your mouth.
Maybe this marriage wouldn’t be so cold after all.
Sugar & Spite
Forced into an arranged marriage, you and Katakuri are bound by name but not by heart — and certainly not by patience.
(CH 1/3) (CH 2/3) (CH 3/3)
katakuri x fem!reader a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe and oc tags: sfw, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers typeshi(?) warnings: poorly written, ooc maybe idk word count: 539
masterlist | ko-fi
: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊
The wedding had been painfully formal — too many flowers, too many eyes, and not nearly enough escape routes. You stood beside Charlotte Katakuri like a statue, your fingers locked at your front, refusing to even brush against his hand.
You could feel the judgment. The curiosity. The pity.
You were the outsider. The political pawn.
And he?
He was the perfect son.
Powerful. Respected. Feared.
You didn’t even like donuts.
The wedding ended with hollow applause and a shared bow. No kiss. Not even a glance. Just the stiff, practiced movements of two people doing their duty.
Now, days later, the newlywed suite might as well have been a battlefield drawn in invisible lines.
He sat at the far edge of the room, sipping tea and glaring at a book like it had insulted his mother. You lounged on the couch, polishing your weapon with a cloth, utterly unbothered.
"You’re getting the floor dirty,” he muttered without looking up.
You didn’t even pause. “You’re getting the air tense.”
A beat of silence.
“You always this disrespectful?”
You shrugged. “Only when I’m right.”
Katakuri exhaled sharply. Not quite a sigh. More like frustration being carefully filed down into indifference.
It was always like this.
A dance of verbal jabs, curt nods, polite venom.
You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. Maybe because he was good at being cold. Too good. No cracks. No warmth. You weren’t looking for love — the marriage had nothing to do with that — but the least he could do was treat you like a person instead of a contract.
The only time you had seen a flicker of humanity was during training. You'd passed by the sparring ring the day after the wedding and found him mid-battle with Oven — fluid, ruthless, and sharp.
He didn’t know you were watching.
And maybe that’s why he looked... alive.
But here, back in the room, he was stone again.
“You don’t have to try so hard to ignore me, you know,” you said, resting your chin on your hand. “I already know you didn’t want this marriage.”
He glanced at you, eyes unreadable.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No. You just act like it.”
That earned you a long stare. Then, calmly: “I don’t waste energy on things I can’t change.”
You smirked. “Wow. And here I thought you just didn’t like me.”
“…I don’t.”
That made you laugh, just a little. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
Silence stretched between you, thick with shared annoyance and something else — something that hadn’t settled yet.
You eventually stood up and dusted off your coat. “I’ll be in the training yard.”
He didn’t respond, so you paused in the doorway.
“For the record,” you said, glancing back, “you’re not the only one who didn’t want this. But I don’t see the point in wasting it, either.”
That made his brows lift slightly. A rare reaction.
“Who said I’m wasting it?” he asked quietly.
You looked at him for a long moment. He didn’t look smug. Just… still.
The question didn’t sound like a challenge.
It sounded like a mystery.
You didn’t have an answer — not yet — so you gave a half-smile and walked off.
Last one for my wall
I saved my favorite for last but he ended up a bit stretched out T-T
