Have you ever wanted to enter the one piece world? Maybe you want to be friends with the strawhats, or the heart pirates? Perhaps you'd rather be dating one of them, or all of them!! Here you can do that, feel free to send in requests in my request...
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A/N: something ironic about writing a fanfic where it involves throwing up, only to be delayed because I was, throwing up, aghhh! Anyway I sympathise with you Bartooooo!! My baby! Anyway here is some teeth melting sweetness for you!
The late summer evening light poured through your bedroom window in slants of orange and gold, catching on the edges of the mirror as you leaned in to check yourself one last time.
The sounds of the neighbourhood drifted in through the half open window, distant chatter, the faint hum of cars on the main road, a breeze carrying the smell of warm pavement.
You sat back a little and let out a breath. Tonight was a date night. It was still early days, one of your first proper nights out with Bartolomeo since he'd become your boyfriend.
Somehow the thought of seeing him again, of spending the whole night together under carnival lights, made your stomach flutter with the same jittery nerves you'd felt when he'd first asked you out.
You reached for a hanger, hesitated, then switched to another. You didn't want anything too dressy, you'd be walking, sitting on rides, probably eating something that would drip sauce, yet you still wanted to look like you'd made an effort.
Eventually you settled on something simple and comfortable, tugged at the hem until it sat right, and reached for your hairbrush.
As you smoothed your hair into place, your thoughts wandered back to how the whole thing had started.
It had been a few nights ago, well past ten, when your phone lit up with Bartolomeo's name. You'd barely had time to say hello before his voice, loud and breathless, filled your ear.
"BABE, okay, okay, listen, so there's a carnival, right? Like, a real legit one, rides, candy floss, fireworks, the whole thing, oh man, you're gonna love it! We HAVE to go. We have to. I'm serious. I'm already picturing it. I'm gonna win you the biggest plush they've got. Like, so big you won't fit it through the door. No, wait, I'll win you three".
He'd kept going without pause, describing every single thing he'd seen on the flyer, each new detail somehow more exciting than the last. He'd even promised, very dramatically, that he'd conquer "the spinny death ride" just for you.
You remembered lying on your bed, laughing so hard you could barely answer him. When you finally said yes, he'd cheered like he'd just won the lottery, then launched into a new tangent about the food stalls.
You'd had to cut him off before midnight to make him promise he'd actually sleep in the meantime.
The memory pulled a smile out of you now as you fastened a necklace. You could still hear the way his voice had cracked with excitement.
Next you dabbed a bit of perfume at your wrist, gave yourself one more look in the mirror, then nodded as if to convince your reflection. This was good. You were ready.
