almost-blondee

[almost-blondee]

Tenna in that one minigame.. .

[almost-blondee]

Obvious to All but Two

Description: You and Sanji are the only ones who can't tell that you're into each other, and it's driving the others a little crazy.

Connected to this one, which is just Luffy's POV, since I saw in the reblogs someone thought it would be cute to see everyone else's POVs and I just loved that idea!!!!!

Nami notices it first, the way Sanji’s affections and compliments shift to you. Of course, he still flatters her endlessly, but it’s more lighthearted and friendly, all romantic overtures focused solely on you.

It’s a nice change of pace, though she does find it a bit ridiculous, but you don’t seem to mind, or even notice, so she doesn’t say anything. Not until she finds you in the storage room, hunched over in the dark, a lantern on the table the singular light source, Sanji’s suit jacket halfway in your lap, halfway in the table. Your pin cushion is on the table as well, and you nearly jump out of your skin when she raps her knuckles on the round wooden tabletop to catch your attention.

“Nami! You scared me.” You tell her, one hand on your hip reaching for your pistols that you left in your shared bedroom, the other frantically trying to hide Sanji’s jacket.

“What are you doing up so late? I thought you went to bed hours ago?”

You laugh nervously, glancing around to make sure no one else was around. “Would you believe me if I told you I was sleepwalking?”

“Absolutely not.” Your shoulders slump, and she takes a seat, picking up the limp sleeve of Sanji’s jacket. “So, is there a reason you have this or..?”

“It got torn, during our last fight, and he keeps saying he’ll buy a new one at the next island, but I know this is his favorite one, and I hate to see him looking so unkempt.”

She hums in response, taking in your lantern lit form. You’re so clearly enamored with Sanji. You’re treating his jacket like it’s the One Piece itself.

You duck your head, embarrassment creeping across your face. “It’s dumb, isn’t it? I don’t even know how I’ll explain why I did it; it’s not like he asked me to sew it back up for him.”

“I’m pretty sure if you tore it more and gave it back to him, he’d thank you.” She snorts softly.

You look at her confusion knitting your brows. “Why would he do that?”

She leans her head into her hand, giving you a look. “Because he’s into you?”

“No, no way, he’s just a flirt, he’s flirts with everyone, he doesn’t like me like that…” You fidget with the cuffs of his jacket. “Does he?”

Nami’s heart twists in her chest, you’re a little bit younger than her, and she can’t help but feel protective. “I mean I think it’s pretty obvious but if he doesn’t then he’s an idiot.”

You smile bashfully, smoothing out his jacket. “Thank you.”

“But it is a little creepy, you sitting here in the dark hunched over his jacket like a bellringer. Why don’t you come finish that in our room?”

“Really? I don’t want to disturb your sleep.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got a few new things I want to add to the map anyways, just be quick about it.” She says, standing and taking the lantern.

“I’ll be super quick; I’m basically almost done anyways.” You tell her, bundling up your sewing supplies and following her through the hatch back to your shared room.

She watches you hover in the doorway to the kitchen, foot propped up on the bar stool next to her, resting her folded arms on her knee, her back to Sanji who’s finishing up plating breakfast. She raises a brow at you, and you give her a nervous smile. She rolls her eyes fondly in response. You’re not usually this shy, she’s seen you reduce Sanji to a blushing mess at least twice in the last week, but she gets it. Crushes are hard, gift giving can be a vulnerable act, and while she doubts it highly, there’s a chance Sanji doesn’t like the fact that you stole and repaired his jacket in the dead of night. Men are weird sometimes; they get sensitive about certain things. Swords, ships, gold chains, a portrait of some girl they swore they were in love with ten years ago, the list goes on and on.

“Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes.” Sanji announces, his back still to the door.

You take a step in then step back out with a silent squeak when it looks like Sanji is about to turn, nearly crashing into Zoro.

Zoro glances over at her, a do I even want to know expression on his face.

She tilts her head towards Sanji and his deadpan expression of disgust is so quick that she can’t stop herself from laughing.

“What’s so funny? Did Zoro tell a joke?” Luffy asks, his silverware already in hand waiting for Sanji to set his plate down.

“Mosshead? Tell a joke? Now that’s funny Cap.” Sanji says.

“Alright Waiter, why don’t you hurry up, the eggs are gonna be cold by the time you’re done garnishing.”

Sanji clicks his tongue. “True artistry cannot be rushed.”

You’ve finally made your way into the kitchen, coming to stand next to Nami who slides her foot off the stool so you can sit. Sanji’s jacket is folded neatly in your lap, hidden by the countertop overhang.

“So?” Nami asks quietly, bumping her shoulder into yours.

“So?”

“Are you going to give it to him now or?”

“He’s cooking, I don’t want to get in his way.” You explain, looking as if you’re going to bolt.

Okay, tough love time. “Hey Sanji?”

“Yes, madam?” He calls, looking over his shoulder with a grin that only grows when he sees you sitting beside her.

“Y/N has something for you when you’re done.”

“Nami!” You whisper-scream, putting on a smile when Sanji turns, wiping his hands on his apron.

“A present? Now, what did I do to deserve that?” He asks, picking up the plates and dishing them out.

“I’m wondering that too.” Zoro says, coming to sit beside Luffy, Usopp still in the corner writing his latest letter to Kaya.

Sanji glares at him, then turns back to you, setting you and Nami’s plates down with a gentleness she’s come to attribute with Sanji.

“Oh, it’s not really a present, it’s just…” You hand him his jacket, grabbing your napkin to give your hands something to do. “I noticed it had a tear in it from that pirate’s cutlass, and I sewed it up, I’m not a professional seamstress by any means, but I’m not horrible with a needle, I just hope it looks alright.”

It looks perfect, Nami’s already seen it a million times over since she found you in the storage room. It looks like it was never damaged in the first place.

“You can’t even tell it was ever torn, this stitching y/n, it’s masterful.” Sanji says, beaming at you with the full radiance of the sun. “Thank you, sweetheart, really, your kindness knows no bounds, we truly are in the presence of a goddess.”

You giggle and wave his praise off. “It was nothing, I just didn’t want you to look unkempt, I know order and appearance means a lot to you.”

Nothing my ass, Nami snorts, stealing a piece of bacon from your plate, and popping it in her mouth, before Luffy can.

Usopp is second or at least he thinks he's second, you're the gunslinging duo he likes to think he knows you pretty well.

“So, how’s Kaya’s doctor stuff going? I saw you got a new letter from her.” You say, voice a little strained from the way you both hang upside down from the rigging, preferred weapons in hand.

It’s a normal sailing day, a lot of downtime, so you and Usopp pulled down the netting he and Nami rigged up, securing it to the mast and rigging, creating a pseudo-obstacle course to help you both keep your skills sharp while at sea. Plus, Luffy likes swinging from it and seeing how far out over the ocean he can stretch.

“She’s been studying like crazy, but she said she’s been making really good progress.” Usopp says, loading a ball bearing into his slingshot.

“It’s Kaya, of course she’s making good progress. I know I only met her like once, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be an amazing doctor.” You aim for one of the targets and shoot, hitting dead on. “Hey, maybe when she’s done studying, she can be our ship doctor, that would be cool.”

Usopp goes next, hitting slightly to the left of the bullseye when the wind pushes the target back suddenly. “That would be awesome, but I don’t know.”

“What’s there not to know?” You ask, aiming with your left hand, swearing under your breath when the ship rocks and your shot hits too high. “She’s smart, kind, strong, you’re like childhood best friends, you guys like each other, and she’s a blonde which is always a plus.”

Usopp's ears perk up, he’s had a slight sense that there was something between you and Sanji, but he wasn’t sure if either of you were aware of it. “Let’s take a break.”

You holster your pistols. “Okay.”

He pushes himself off the mast, swinging back and forth watching as you do the same, laughing as you spin in the air. He waits until you’ve stopped spinning, swinging past you as he asks, “blond is a plus?”

“Yeah, of course, I’m a sucker for a blond.” You tell him, pushing off the mast one more time before grabbing at the net above you to slow your swinging.

He does the same, pulling himself up to look at you. “You know Sanji is blond.”

Your brows furrow. “Yeah so?”

He wriggles his eyebrows. “Soooo.”

“Soooo?” You echo, searching his face for any hints as to where he’s going with this.

He loops his arms through the netting, resting his chin on them to stare at you expectantly. “Y/N, come on.”

“Come on what?”

He sighs dramatically, tilting his head to emphasize his words. “You’re a sucker for blonds, and Sanji is blond.”

“That’s just a coincidence.” You protest, untangling yourself from the netting and hanging from your knees once more, taking your pistols back out.

He flips down as well. “So, you don’t like Sanji then?”

You huff and refuse to face him, tripping over your words unlike he’s ever seen before. Except for that one time you accidentally walked in on Sanji getting out of the shower, towel around his hips, and Usopp had to convince you not to hide in the crow’s nest for the rest of the week. “I like Sanji, just—ugh not like—I don’t know, and he doesn’t even—shut up is this because I got a bounty before you? Are just messing with me?”

“Actually, I got a bounty before you, but I know it’s nice to dream.”

You whip your head around, wincing slightly as the blood rushes in your head. “That was Luffy’s bounty, that doesn’t count!”

“You sound just like Sanji, that doesn’t count, this is stupid, blah blah blah. I get it you guys are jealous of me, just date already and be jealous together.”

“I’m going to shoot you.” You deadpan, reaching for him, the force of your movement swinging you past him.

Usopp scrambles up the rigging, unhooking his feet and dropping to the deck below, a shit eating grin on his face as he turns to run. Yeah, you totally like Sanji. “You can deny all you want, y/n, but I know the truth.”

“I’m not jealous of you. Get back here!” You call, hurrying to unhook your feet so you can give chase. You hit the deck, one gun drawn, a bolt of energy whizzing past his ear, scattering like the sun shimmering on the waves when it hits the fireproof brick wall that the main deck shares with the kitchen.

He turns and thumbs his nose at you. If you wanted to hit him, you would’ve, he’s not worried. Another bolt flies past, and he grabs his slingshot, sending a harmless smoke and color powder pellet back in response. Bright pink smoke envelops you as he ducks below deck, your laughter, and fading curses following him down.

Sanji’s at the bottom of the short set of stairs clearly listening in, and he startles when he notices Usopp, quickly recovering, a carefree smile on his face. “You two having fun?”

“Yeah, but y/n might need some help getting all that color powder out of her hair.” Usopp says, folding his arms behind his head, giving Sanji a knowing smile as he saunters past. You two can thank him later. He has to tell Kaya about this. Another success for Captain Ussop, the matchmaking of y/n and Sanji, the Lady of the Golden Guns, and the Best Chef on the High Seas.

Zoro is actually second, but he acts like he's third simply because he was trying to ignore you and Saji's antics.

He's not stupid, he may be more of a strong silent type as you might call him, waiting and observing before acting, speaking little unless needed, but he’s not stupid. Zoro can see clear as day that Sanji is almost annoyingly head over heels for you. Which in itself is really not any of his business, though it does give him plenty of material to goad Sanji with. What he finds surprising though is that for a man who flirts with everything that moves, Sanji gets pretty jealous when someone flirts with you.

It starts off subtle. Sanji’s smile stiffening slightly when a bartender gives you a free drink with a wink. His body shifting closer to you as a fruit seller compliments your outfit. Then he turns it up a notch, refusing to let you get your own drinks from the bar, telling you some crap like a fair lady such as yourself should not be forced to order her own drink, allow me to fetch it for you. And when someone compliments you, Zoro has to fight back the urge to gag at how flowery and long-winded Sanji becomes. If someone says they like your dress Sanji is spending the next ten minutes telling you everything he likes about it. Praising the way the color compliments your skin, your hair, your eyes, marveling over the way the fabric either clings to or flows about your form, the way the cut of the neckline looks, the detailing, the fact that it has pockets or doesn’t have pockets, it’s never-ending.

He will admit, though, he does enjoy watching Sanji get all worked up when he can’t swoop in and distract you. Like today, you’re scanning through the racks of clothing in some shop he thinks is way too expensive, Nami at your side, the salesman hovering, dousing you both in compliments. Sanji just shoves his hands deeper and deeper in his pockets. His jaw set, his eyes never leaving you.

You head towards the curtained off section designated as a dressing room, a pile of clothes in your arms, and disappear behind one of the curtains.

Zoro meanders over, sinking into one of the weirdly shaped chairs set up outside the curtains, Sanji doing the same. “Tell me again why we had to come with you guys?” Zoro asks, tapping his fingers on the hilt of his swords.

“Because it’s the polite thing to do, we’re both ladies on a new island, and we need protection.” Nami says from behind her own curtain.

He rolls his eyes, he should’ve known this was part of her matchmaking scheme. “Didn’t I see you two beat the shit out of a guy just last week?”

Nami sticks her head out, her eyes narrowed. “Shut up, Zoro.”

He holds his hands up in surrender and lets it be. “Fine, fine, we’ll be here, waiting to protect you guys.”

He’ll admit it, the clothing all blurred together at some point, and he’s far more interested in the champagne offered by the salesman than the various shirts, skirts, and dresses you and Nami are trying on. But when you finally, finally reach the end of the pile, and are hesitant to come out, he pays attention.

“Come on, y/n, I’m sure you look great.” Nami says, her own last item, a sparkling dark blue gown that wraps around her form, a slit up the leg, catching the light as she moves to peek past your curtain.

“Okay, okay, just, give me a second.”

“You’ve had plenty of seconds.” Nami reminds you, tapping her foot.

You shyly pull open the curtain and step out towards the full length mirrors set against the wall, turning and twisting, keeping your eyes on the gown and off anyone else so you don’t see their reactions. It’s similar to Nami’s, but a deep red almost crimson, and where hers is cut straight across at the neckline, yours is more halter style.

Zoro let’s out a low whistle. “Damn y/n.”

“I knew you’d look great.” Nami says, smiling as she motions for you to give her a twirl.

You do so, face flushing, your eyes pointedly looking anywhere but Sanji. “I like it, but where would I wear it? It’s too nice for just being on the ship.”

“B-Baratie.” Sanji says, a blush crawling up his neck. “You could wear it at Baratie love, Luffy wants to go back and visit soon, it’s perfectly in dress code.”

You smooth your hands down the skirt of your dress. “That could work, but I don’t know. What do you think, Zoro?”

He glances at Sanji who looks torn between staring unabashedly at you and glaring at him, then glances back at you, shrugging. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because I trust you to be straight with me.” You shrug, and he doesn’t let the way that simple sentence taps at the ice around his heart show on his face.

He takes a long look, dragging his eyes up and down your figure, biting back a smirk when Sanji mutters something about indecent looks, and stands crossing the space between you and him. Might as well mess with him a little bit, maybe it’ll spur him to action. “I mean, it’s pretty.”

“Well, yeah, but is it worth getting?”

He runs a finger down the halter strap, starting at the back of your neck and ending at your clavicle, hooking one finger beneath it to feel the inside. The material isn’t scratchy like he thought it might be given the sparkling, so that’s good. He doesn’t want you or Nami to spend money on something uncomfortable that wouldn’t make any sense.

“I think it’s worth get—”

“She didn’t ask you, Waiter.” He deadpans, removing his hand and resting it on your hip, spreading his fingers to see if the slit goes as high as it looks.

You don’t react, just look at him curiously, but Sanji can’t see that.

“This slit is pretty high, I don’t know how comfortable you’d be with that once you’re walking around.”

Your lips crook to the side in thought and you step back, fiddling with it. “I guess I could sew it closed a bit here at the top.”

“Yeah, that could work, but let me just test something.” He says, grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder, turning so the side of your dress with the slit is facing Sanji.

You yelp and grab onto his shirt for balance. “Zoro, what the hell?”

“Need to make sure it’s not showing too much, what if you get injured, and we have to carry you?”

Sanji’s gritting his teeth, his hands balled in his pockets. “There are other ways to carry a lady.”

“Yeah, yeah, how much of her skin is showing, think it’s too much?”

Sanji swallows hard, eyes tracing up your leg. “I have no right to decide what’s too much skin, it’s y/n’s body, whatever she’s comfortable with is all that matters.”

Zoro can feel you stifling a dreamy sigh and readjusts his arm to better secure you.

You tuck your hair behind your ear to get it out of your face. “I’d actually like your opinion, Sanji, if you don’t mind? I wouldn’t want to be too exposed.”

Sanji’s on his feet in an instant, arms held out. “I think it’s too high for this position, but if our dear Mosshead will indulge me?”

Zoro hands you over and takes a step back. Sanji’s carrying you princess style, which is just as well since he calls you that constantly.

“See here, when you’re being carried properly, we can see that while the slit is still high, it’s less revealing. Though I think for comfort it’s best to sew it up some, which shouldn’t be a problem for you seeing as you so masterfully repaired my suit jacket.”

Your arms are around Sanji’s neck, and you’re looking at him like he hung the moon and stars. “You’re so sweet.”

“And you are absolutely stunning in this gown. You’ll be the envy of every man, woman, fishman, and fishwoman, in Baratie.”

“As long as I make you look good on your triumphant return, then I’m happy.” You say, smiling prettily, looking up at Sanji through your lashes.

Zoro watches as Sanji’s ears turn red, and he breaks eye contact, clearing his throat. “You’d do that anyways, gown or no gown. Haven’t I told you there’s nothing prettier than you?”

“I think you said beautiful, actually.”

“My apologies, princess, there’s nothing and no one more beautiful than you.”

You giggle in response, girlish and flustered, trying and failing to hide your smile. So, this is what Luffy was talking about when he said he saw you get all embarrassed around Sanji.

Zoro feels Nami’s elbow knock against his arm. “Nice work.”

“Just tired of them mooning over each other all the time.”

Zeff is understandably among the last to know, but still caught on before you and Sanji.

He’s glad to have Sanji visiting Baratie, though he wishes the brat hadn’t brought that bottomless stomach of a captain with him. No matter, it’s nice to have Sanji in the kitchen with him once more, barking orders and receiving that familiar defiance from his little eggplant all grown up. And grown up he definitely is, seeing as he brought a little cabbage with him. You’re a sweet girl; with weaponry he hasn’t seen since the high tide of his pirate days strapped to your hips that you stubbornly refused to be parted with until Sanji assured you that they’d be kept safe. It had taken a lot of wheedling and promises of making sure dessert had strawberries somewhere on it to get you to reluctantly hand over the gleaming golden pistols, to the host who looked just as reluctant to take them.

Now he’s here, dicing tomatoes alongside Sanji waiting to see if he’ll bring you up. When he doesn’t after a few minutes, Zeff speaks. “So, the lass you’re with?”

“Y/N, Lady of the Golden Guns, a beauty ain’t she?” Sanji says, finely dicing the tomatoes with perfect precision. “And that gown, stunning, you know she asked for my opinion about it?”

“Smart girl. You know, I always knew you’d go for more than just a pretty face. You need someone with fire to keep your head outta the clouds all the time. Seems like she’s up to the task.”

Sanji’s knife stilled. “We’re not—she doesn’t see me like that.”

Zeff scoffs. “And a mermaid stole my leg.”

Sanji shoots him a scathing look.

He chuckles. “It’s plain as day, she likes you. Even her captain couldn’t get her to give those guns up, but you offered her strawberries on a dessert and a reassuring word, and she’s handing them over.”

“It took far more than that, and she was still reluctant to hand them over, she’s very…protective of them, she’s had a hard go of it getting and keeping those guns.” Sanji says, his tone prickly.

Defensive of you and your shared captain, Zeff’s glad to see it. “Still, wasn’t her captain that convinced her, but you.”

“We’re friends.” Sanji says curtly, calling for another set of tomatoes to be brought to him.

“Again mermaid, leg.”

A muscle in Sanji’s jaw twitches. “Yeah, yeah, old man I get it, you don’t believe me.”

Zeff shrugs. “Can’t an old man hope for the best?”

“You can, doesn’t mean you’ll get it.” Sanji says his shoulders slumping.

Zeff pauses in his prepping, wipes his hand on his apron and squeezes Sanji’s shoulder. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. If she rejects you, and you’re too embarrassed to face her you can always come back home, I’ll put you right back on the line.”

Sanji shoulders his hand off but smiles gratefully. “As if I’d ever work for you again.”

Zeff jerks his head towards Sanji’s prepping. “What do you call what you’re doing right now?”

“Making a meal for my crew.” He says pointedly, that old defiance slipping right back in.

“Which includes your girlfriend.” Zeff adds, unable to resist ribbing him.

Sanji’s lips curl up into a half smile. “We’ll see, old man, we’ll see.”

Zeff notes the way Sanji grabs the oregano, and dashes some of it on a particular plate, even though his nose crinkles at what he knows the little eggplant considers sacrilege. “Who likes oregano in your crew?”

“Y/N. I’m trying to wean her off it, but she says it was one of the few spices her mom knew how to cook with… It reminds her of home.”

He nods, feeling his old stone heart crack a little and resists the urge to tease Sanji, instead letting him be, and helping him carry the plates out once they’re ready.

Zeff retreats to the kitchen and watches the way you lean into Sanji’s space, listening intently as he explains each dish, fawning over them and his knowledge, while the others on your crew share looks. It seems that everybody but you two knows about your shared affections. He chuckles quietly and shakes his head before going back into the kitchen, young love.

Just friends, that’s what Sanji said, but Zeff doesn’t know any friends he’d have pressed against a wall the way Sanji has you. His hands cupping your face, yours gripping his jacket, lips melding together, whispered words exchanged between fervent kisses, foreheads resting against each other when you both come up for air. He doesn’t say anything, just backs away slowly and tells everybody to avoid going out back. He’ll give you and Sanji some privacy, he just hopes he won’t see you two back in nine months, he’s not ready to be a grandfather quite yet.

Sanji TL: @elrondswifey

[almost-blondee]

"valley reverie" - sebastian

summary: the timeline of sebastian and the farmer’s relationship based on canon dialogue

pairing: sdv sebastian x farmer

word count: 2.5K

a/n: this may be my magnum opus

The sun was beginning its descent behind the mountains when Sebastian emerged from the house for the first—and only—time that day.

He shot a glance to his mother and Demetrius, who were standing at the edge of their property, looking over the valley bathed in golden light. His mother sent a small smile back, followed by a pointed disappointed look at the carton of cigarettes held loosely in his hand. Demetruis didn’t acknowledge his existence.

Sebastian knew it was a nasty habit, but he spent most of his life with not much thought to the future—he was surprised he made it this far. Maybe his life would have been different if he had planned better; if he had considered for a moment that there was such a thing as life past sixteen, then eighteen, then twenty-one. He supposed he should start to consider a life past twenty-four, but quickly dropped the thought as he placed the cigarette between his lips and continued his stroll to the lake.

He saw it then, as his lighter sparked to life and helped the cigarette take eleven minutes off his.

Someone was sitting in his spot. A humanoid blob of denim focused intently on the bobber floating in the water.

He hesitated, then decided to keep moving—his trajectory now locked in past the stranger and across the rickety planks of wood to the smaller islands in the middle of the lake. His mother had been saying for years that she needed to build something more structurally sound, but had yet to get around to it.

As he got closer, he took in more of the scene. There was a muddy bucket next to the stranger, and he noticed a couple slimy carp flopping around inside. Whoever this was, they clearly didn’t have enough experience to catch the tricker creatures in the lake.

Just as he was about to slip past toward solitude, he locked eyes with the stranger. Their bored expression quickly turned to worry.

“Sorry, am I in your spot? Robin said it was okay for me to fish here.”

Recognition sparked in his brain—his mother had told him about the new resident of Pelican Town. The words she had used to describe them flashed behind his eyes: sweet, a little lost, cute. That last one was sent his way with an exaggerated wink and met with a scoff from him.

“Oh. You just moved in, right? Cool.”

The farmer didn’t respond, just looked on waiting for an answer to their question. Sebastian didn’t gratify them with a response, instead looking across the lake at the tree line and abandoned quarry.

“Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?”

The farmer scrunched up their mouth slightly, beginning to reel in their line. There was nothing but a limp worm dangling from the hook. Sebastian took note of the grieving look flashing on their face before it was gone in a blink.

“Better than where I was.”

Sebastian didn’t bother responding as the farmer heaved up the bucket—they were a lot stronger than they looked—and walked away without another word.

Robin smiled at the farmer with a wave and shouted goodnight before sending another disapproving look to her son.

_________________________________________

Sebastian heaved open the door of the house, exhausted from band practice. Sam was his best friend, and he enjoyed spending time with him more than he would admit, but the newest addition to the band was definitely a hindrance.

He didn’t dislike Abigail, and he couldn’t deny that she was a talented drummer, but he had been hoping for years that her little crush on him would fade away. He could only take so much of puppy dog eyes and over exaggerated laughter at his quips that definitely aren’t that funny.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts on how to shake off the purple-haired girl—more importantly, how to shake her off without actual confrontation—that he didn’t notice the farmer leaning against the shop counter until their voice pierced through. His mother was nowhere to be seen, so they had to have been talking to him.

“What? I didn't hear you...I'm busy thinking about something. What do you want?”

The farmer narrowed their eyes at him, leveling him with a glare. “You know, I get that you’d rather be listening to My Chemical Romance and jerking off to Nietzsche than interacting with a human being, but you really need to work on your people skills.”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.

He expected avoidance from the farmer, based on their first meeting and subsequent run-ins where they gave him a nod of acknowledgement before going back to acting like he didn’t exist.

He realized that the farmer wasn’t as timid and one-dimensional as he let himself think.

The moment was saved by Robin entering the shop room and dropping a workbench on the floor with a heavy thud. “You’ll make better use of this than I have lately—it’s pretty old,” she looked up from the dusty bench, noticing her son frozen in the doorway, “oh, hi Sebby.”

“Sebby?” the farmer questioned with a smirk.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, brushing past his mother to get to his lair.

“Sorry about him,” he heard his mother as he descended the stairs.

“It’s fine,” the farmer laughed, “he’s cool.”

He couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. _________________________________________

Sebastian looked down at the frozen tear in his hand with a neutral expression on his face, though his heart was quickening its pace.

“Gunther told me it’s fabled to be the frozen tears of a yeti.”

He met the farmer’s grin with one of his own, “I really love this. How did you know?”

They shrugged, “Seemed like some emo shit you’d be into.”

A breathy laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “Well…thanks.”

“No prob. I’ll keep an eye out for more when I’m in the mines.”

“The mines?,” his brow furrowed, “how far down did you go?”

“Not super deep, I think I stopped at sixty since it was getting late.”

Sebastian gaped at the farmer—who he now realized he really misjudged—as they shouldered their backpack and turned toward the door.

“Oh,” they stopped just shy of the threshold, “your code is wrong, by the way. Third line down.”

He looked to the screen, baffled, seeing that there was, in fact, a mistake in his code.

He began to ask the farmer how they knew that, but they were gone. _________________________________________

The sun was setting on the valley, and Sebastian found himself sitting by the lake’s edge with the farmer, who was reeling in sturgeon and bass with ease.

“I’m sure the city’s different for other people, but it was corporate hell for me,” the farmer spoke softly as they baited their hook—it was different than any bait he had ever seen, and the farmer had informed him that the wild man living behind their house had taught them the recipe.

Sebastian hummed, “I guess that makes sense.”

“You guess?” the farmer teased him, flicking water at his face.

He blew a puff of smoke in their face.

The farmer coughed, then began to laugh as they fanned the smoke out of their face, “asshole.”

Sebastian grinned, leaning back on the palms of his hands and gazing across the water.

They sat in comfortable silence as the farmer cast out their line and half-heartedly focused on the bobber—they didn’t really need it anymore, but liked the safety net.

“You and Sam are probably my only friends in this town.” Sebastian broke the silence, but continued looking straight ahead.

“Well I am very likable.”

Sebastian knocked their shoulders together with a scoff.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” _________________________________________

Sebastian was indifferent—and sometimes loathful—toward most events held in their little town, but tonight was an exception. It was hard to not be in awe of the midnight jellies, and he was excited for the farmer to see them for the first time.

They were perched at the edge of the dock, along with Sam and Abigail, their feet dangling inches above the water.

It was a lot colder than expected, and the farmer was bundled in his black jacket. He couldn’t help but feel bad about the sad glances Abigail was sending their way.

The farmer looked content, and Sebastian recalled something they told him at the beginning of the season—the used to be terrified of the ocean before moving to the valley.

He nudged their shoulder with his own. It didn’t take much effort—they were sitting a lot closer than he realized. A light blush dusted his cheekbones.

“I thought I saw something moving in there…” he pointed to the void of the ocean and leaned closer to their ear, whispering, “something big, something dark.”

The farmer’s eyes widened as they looked across the vast darkness before they narrowed and turned to him.

“Just trying to scare you...” Sebastian laughed.

The farmer smiled, knocking their knee against his, muttering an all too familiar “asshole.”

It wasn’t too long before Lewis sent out the first lantern, and the water surrounding the docks was filled with glowing jellyfish.

“It’s beautiful,” the farmer breathed out as their head landed on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” his eyes landed on a glowing green jelly before looking down at the farmer, “it is.” _________________________________________

Sebastian never saw the farm in its full glory—before the farmer’s grandfather grew old and passed away—but he had been there plenty of times when it was overgrown and abandoned.

He had told the farmer this as they sat on the newly installed swinging bench on their porch. They joked that they would be suing him for trespassing, since it was technically their property at the time, even if they hadn’t known it.

It was a chilly fall day, but the farmer had made a pot of coffee to keep them warm.

“I thought this was your busy season,” Sebastian lit up a cigarette and moved the ashtray closer to where he sat. It was a newer addition to the farmer’s decor. He thought about the prideful look on their face as they held it up and told him that Leah let them use her pottery wheel. It was painted with little creatures that looked like the much happier cousins of the slimes living in the caves.

The farmer hummed, holding their mug close to their face, but not taking a sip, “Yeah…a lot busier than I thought it would be, actually.”

He grinned at them, “so, you’re slacking today, huh?”

The farmer laughed.

“I’d rather hang out with your sorry ass than work.” Despite the insult, the farmer’s tone was soft and earnest. Sebastian felt his cheeks heat up.

“Could you picture me living on a farm? It seems ridiculous, but I have been thinking about it lately.”

“If I could do it, then so could you,” the farmer linked their pinky with his, “it’s a lot more freeing than you’d think.” _________________________________________

Boxes filled with Sebastian’s things lined the walls of the farmhouse, but Sebastian and the farmer lay in bed, choosing to ignore them. 

They had all the time in the world.

The farmer was twirling the pendant dangling from Sebastian’s neck, “there’s steam coming out of your ears, Seb,” the farmer giggled and smoothed out the wrinkle between his brows with their finger.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Sebastian turned his attention from the ceiling to the farmer, “The older I get, the less I'm drawn to the city. It had a certain mystique to it, once. But it turns out that was just a romantic fantasy. The city's so busy, so full of people... I don't belong there. I'm a loner.”

A beat.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

The farmer laughed, “Well I would hope so,” they tugged gently on the pendant, pulling him closer, “because you’re stuck with me.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer had joined his family for dinner, and his mother had shooed them away with one hand as she cooed at the bundle held tightly in her other arm.

The valley was coming to life, but the ghost of a winter chill was in the air. They settled down by the lake despite the cold. It was no longer his spot, but theirs.

The farmer was skipping stones across the lake when he grumbled about how being in that spot made him want a smoke.

“No one’s stopping you,” the farmer laughed.

“I am.”

The farmer still held a loose smile as they raised their eyebrows at him, “oh?”

“I'm trying my best to quit smoking now that we're married…” He avoided their gaze and brushed some mud on the palm of his hand onto his jeans, “I don't wanna die on you. It's a bad habit. I want to have a future together.”

A baby cried in the distance. Sebastian and the farmer smiled at each other. _________________________________________

The farmer was surprised to find Sebastian’s side of the bed empty when they woke up. It wasn’t a rare occasion, as they usually found Sebastian in the kitchen after a restless sleep, but he was nowhere to be found.

They couldn’t help but worry a little bit as they pulled on their boots and opened the screen door. They paused out of instinct to let the dog run out before them only to realize that the dog wasn’t hot on their heels like usual.

They had only gotten two steps onto the porch before a mass of fur and slobber crashed into their legs.

“Oh hello baby,” they cooed down at the dog as it rolled onto its back, breathing heavily out of excitement, “good morning stink.”

“Good morning to you too.”

The farmer was so caught up in giving the dog attention that they hadn’t noticed Sebastian leaning against the porch railing.

They straightened from their crouch, smiling at him as the dog whined from the loss of affection.

“I couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went ahead and fed the animals,” he pushed off the railing and took a few steps forward to fix a rogue piece of the farmer’s hair, “one less thing for you to do.”

“Thanks, Seb,” the farmer said softly, suddenly bashful, “I’m going to check on the pumpkins. Thought I could make some soup tonight if any of them are ripe.”

They took a few steps off the porch, “feel like being a country boy today? Or did you get your fix?”

He smiled, leaning his forearms against the railing, “I'll just watch you from here. I enjoy watching you.” _________________________________________

Sebastian and the farmer found themselves sitting on the porch swing once again. It was a mild summer evening, and he was looking on as a toddler played with the dog in the yard.

He tore his attention away from the rowdy scene in front of him to look at the farmer, who was curled up at his side reading a book. He felt his heart swell.

“This is so different from my old life, but I'm really starting to like it. I feel like I really belong here.”

The farmer looked up from the book in their lap, smiling.

“I don't often show it, but I'm really happy that I'm your husband. Marrying you was the best decision I ever made.”

[almost-blondee]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤDEVIL IN YOUR EYESㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Dante Sparda x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would He Be When He's Obsessed?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

It started with a glance.

You were just some random girl who walked into Devil May Cry looking for a job—maybe organizing the mess, answering calls, anything, didn’t matter. Your voice was too sweet, your hair too messy, your smile too damn genuine. You had no idea who he was. No idea what he could do. You called him “sir” with that soft tone like he was some regular guy. That alone should’ve been harmless.

But you lingered.

He remembers the way your fingers wrapped around the handle of the broom that first day like it was a damn holy weapon. He watched you sweep through blood, broken glass, and demon guts without flinching. That was the moment. That was when it twisted inside him—tight and hot and uncomfortable. A feeling he hadn’t had in a long time. Maybe ever.

He started watching you.

Not in a pervy way—at least, that’s what he told himself. He was just… curious. Protective. That’s normal, right? You were a human, after all. Fragile. Breakable. And the world was full of monsters that looked human enough until they ripped out your spine.

He tells himself that’s the only reason he trails behind you when you walk home. That’s the only reason he’s memorized your schedule, your favorite diner, the way you tap your foot when you lie. You have a tell. That’s adorable. He could eat that up.

And he would.

If he wasn’t so fucking stupid about this whole thing.

Dante flirts with everyone.

That’s just how he is. But with you, it’s different. With you, the teasing comes out a little slower, a little deeper. It’s not just about getting a reaction—it’s about earning one. He wants to see you flustered, wants to see you annoyed, wants to see you laugh at his dumb jokes even when they’re older than sin. And when you do laugh? He wants to burn the sound into his soul.

You caught him staring more than once.

Sometimes you’d smile.

Sometimes you’d look concerned.

That second one scares the shit out of him.

He starts getting possessive.

Subtle at first—he’ll throw his jacket over your chair before anyone else can sit near you. He’ll step between you and strangers just a little too fast. He’ll “accidentally” rip a guy’s arm out of its socket for brushing your shoulder too hard on a bad night. You joke that he’s being dramatic.

He’s not joking.

Dante's not used to wanting something this soft. This real. He knows what to do with lust, violence, revenge. He doesn’t know what to do with the way his chest hurts when you talk about another guy. Or when you say you’re going out alone. Or when you tell him you think demons aren't all bad.

He is one.

But you don’t know that. Not yet.

The obsession gets worse.

You start seeing little things.

A photo of you on his desk—one you didn’t know he had.

Your favorite snacks in his fridge—even though you never mentioned them.

The demon that broke into your apartment dying before you even called for help.

Your spare key vanishing.

Finding his coat on your bed when you swear you locked every door.

He’s trying to play it cool, but he’s unraveling.

If anyone hurts you, he’ll kill them. No hesitation. Human or demon.

If you leave him, he might lose his damn mind.

He knows it. He’s self-aware enough to admit he’s fucked up in the head.

But he also believes—truly, deeply—that no one else can protect you like he can.

No one else will love you the way he does.

With that brutal, messy, obsessive devotion that borders on worship.

Dante doesn’t say “I love you.”

Not with words.

He says it by throwing himself into hell itself just to make sure you live another day.

He says it by watching you sleep, brushing your hair behind your ear like he’s scared it might hurt you.

He says it when he whispers, “Mine,” under his breath every time he looks at you.

And maybe one day, when it all goes to shit and you see the blood and the truth and the devil in his eyes—

He’ll say it with a gun in one hand, your heart in the other, and a smirk that can’t quite hide how scared he is to lose you.

It become worse.

You haven’t called in two days.

Not even a “Hey, I’m okay,” or your usual “Dante, stop drinking all the milk.”

Nothing.

He tells himself you’re just busy. That you’re fine. That you probably lost your phone. But his gut twists in a way it hasn’t twisted since Vergil last disappeared. It’s that same cold sweat. That same gnawing ache. That whisper in the back of his head that something is wrong.

So he checks. First your apartment. Then your friends. Then the streets.

And when he finds nothing—no trace of you—he doesn’t sleep. Doesn’t eat.

He tears the city apart.

And when he finds you?

You’re with someone else.

Some guy. Handsome enough. Normal-looking.

You’re laughing, holding a drink, leaning into him. Touching his arm.

And Dante snaps.

Not in a violence way.

Not yet.

He stands in the shadows, teeth clenched so tight his jaw cracks. He watches. Waits. Memorizes the guy’s face, his name, his fucking scent. He doesn’t move until you leave—safe, untouched. Then he follows the guy home.

And he makes him disappear.

No blood. No mess. Just… gone.

A whisper in the wind. A body never found. A soul damned quietly.

The next morning, Dante is back at Devil May Cry, sitting at his desk like nothing happened. He offers you your favorite drink. Smiles like he always does. Says, “Hey, you look tired,” and wipes a smudge from your cheek with his thumb.

You don’t know. You can’t know.

You think he’s just being protective. Maybe even sweet.

You don’t see the look in his eyes when you talk about someone else.

You don’t see how he stares at your lips when you say you missed him.

And you definitely don’t see how he’s already made the decision:

If you ever try to leave him, he won’t let you.

He’s not proud of it. He knows it’s sick.

And now that he’s tasted the idea of you?

Your laugh, your kindness, your damn smile?

He’ll burn the world before he lets it slip through his fingers.

“You're mine,” he tells you one night, voice low, a little hoarse, like the words hurt to say.

You laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Big scary Dante. My overprotective guard dog.”

He doesn’t laugh.

He just leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, and says—

“No, sweetheart. I mean it. You’re mine.”

And this time, the way he says it makes your spine go cold.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[almost-blondee]

dante x f!reader. established relationship, fluff. | wc 807, reading time: less than 5 minutes.

“Oh shit!”

You exclaim too quickly as you walk into your kitchen after tossing your keys and bag aside and taking your shoes off. The wall between the entryway and the kitchen is a blind spot, leaving you unprepared to walk in on a towel clad, still dripping from the shower version of Dante who grins and points at you.

“Welcome ho-o-o-me.”

He sings his greeting while you press your hand against your chest, trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate from the surprise of seeing him. It’s never that shocking that he makes his way into your apartment, he does know where the spare key is. A spare key that is just the one you had made for him he insisted that he couldn’t take so you hid it in a place you knew he’d find it.

Clearly it has been used.

You eye him up and down though it’s playful, folding your arms over your chest while approaching him.

“Let me guess. You used the good stuff in the shower and have finished off the last of the juice by now too, right?”

Dante shrugs in response, turning the shrug into a shimmy that gradually becomes something more frenetic, his whole body moving in response. The ends of his hair drip onto your floor yet it’s impossible to do much but smile sweetly at his rolling chest and shaking hips.

“Is this your version of a mating dance?” Whispering out of the corner of your mouth, you raise your brows while wrapping an arm around his moving hips. “I feel like a girl bird or something right now.”

“Dunno, is it working?”

Shaking your head, you grin up at him. Distraction successful, he notes to none but himself.

“Hi handsome,” the words are muffled while you press a kiss to his smiling mouth.

Dante’s hand naturally falls to the small of your back and he pulls you against him, chest to chest, and swaying softly in place with you. You look down to check on your feet, quickly returning them upward to glance at him. Those pretty blue eyes stare down at you, his lips curling into a fond smile when his eyes fall upon the crinkle of your nose.

You lean against his bicep, letting him rock you at a rhythm nobody but him can hear.

Copying the little sing-song in his voice from earlier, you raise your eyebrows expectantly while asking. “Seriously, what are you doing?”

He pulls you tighter against him and you place your feet atop his, letting him take full control of whatever is happening. A big hand slides from your lower back to your ass, cupping it gently. The damp towel over his thighs gets the front of you wet but whatever worry it causes fades away while you let him step you around, holding onto you and swinging you in a makeshift circle. He indicates he’s about to dip you and you giggle, bending backward over his arm and wrinkling your nose again while he leans in to collect a small kiss.

“Making myself at home just like you always tell me to.”

Grinning, another giggle springs out of you.

“You mean it this time?”

A stronger man would stick to his values and say no. He’d avoid this - the domesticity that makes a wild man tame and lazy. He’d decline the comfort of your shampoo and sheets, the fridge that’s always semi full, the pleasure of seeing the owner of his favorite pair of lips and hands and other things in her natural habitat.

A man is only as strong as his biggest weakness. Dante’s fortunate that his weakness possesses so much strength of her own, enough to keep pushing the issue until you knew he’d eventually give in.

He nods, his amused-at-your-surprise smile fading into something fond. A knowing smirk perhaps, always certain that you knew he’d end up giving in eventually. A simple bow of his head puts it just above yours.

“Yeah,” he kisses you and you greedily allow it, the dancing pausing while his towel slides a little lower on his hips. Both of you burst into a fit of childish giggles, the arm you have slung around his waist pinning the towel in place to keep him decent.

“Think I’d have to be an idiot to keep leaving such a good thing.”

His lips barely part from yours yet he continues to speak, the dancing paused in favor of touching, hand sliding across every still clothed part of you they can touch. Lost in the moment, you slide your arm upward and the towel wrapped around his hips falls to your feet.

“Yeah, I think so too.” You whisper, lifting a foot to kick the towel aside while he reaches to grab your thigh and wrap your leg around his waist.

Never one to miss a signal, you hop up and wrap them both around him, resuming your giggling and kissing while being carried off to christen the couch like it hasn’t been done a thousand times before.

At least it’s a couch you technically share now.

[almost-blondee]

— PUSH AND PULL : honkai star rail.

premise. as someone who's always believed in the term “try and try again,” (peak delusion, you know) rooting yourself in their heart has always been your goal, no matter the cold rejections and curt declines you receive. however, even you have your limits; perhaps this little push and pull you two have going isn't worth your time after all... but what happens then, if the chaser becomes the chased? (oh, how the turns have tabled.)

...or, when you play hard to get with them.

— ft. sunday, aventurine, jing yuan.

warnings: angst n fluff, messy messy, these boys are in love but are wayyy too chicken to admit they actually adore you, genderless reader.

a/n. inspired by @/xiaowhore's playing hard to get headcanons! my holy trinity 😇 n MY FAVES RAHHH

NEXT : BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX

SUNDAY is perplexed. very much aware of his qualities which enlists him as one of the finer (finest) bachelors of Penacony (he was the Robin's one and only blood, and was also the head of one of the main guiding forces of the Family, after all), sunday isn't sure he's ever come across someone as.... tenacious as you.

foolish, to be more precise, for he cannot for the life of him comprehend exactly why you are the way you are with... him.

no matter his respectful declines of your invitations to promenade around Penacony (re: going on dates), you really didn't know how to leave him be. though he hasn't exactly said he hated it, sunday was, admittedly, rather... affronted. your gifts, in particular, were your loud declarations of your affection (that make his wings flutter more rapidly than he'd like); but sunday was rather inconvenienced at the whole thing.

nonetheless, he does still accept them. reluctantly, mind you. not because he was fond of your constant shower of affections, which seemed so permanent that he began to look forward to them got used to it. to your credit, your gifts were very much to his tastes. (Robin once gave him a rather soul-searching look when he found himself wearing the gloves you gifted, light blue and white in color. he still uses it, just not when his sister is in the vicinity.)

in fact, perhaps he may have gotten too comfortable. little by little, your constant intrusions on his time have thawed a way to his heart; making sunday look forward to your jovial greetings and grandeur elaborations on your day, and such a thing makes him feel scared sunday needed to nip this in the bud, and fast.

so he confronts you, abruptly one day as you give him his newest gift—a jewelry box for his earrings. (surely, the rapid thumping of his heart was due to his irritation at your constant persistence, right?) “i'm afraid this can no longer continue. i am flattered by your... fancy for me, but i do not wish to enter a relationship in the near future.”

the utter silence that follows is torture to him—but he endures. he tries not to look at the momentary flash of hurt on your face. you seemed to quickly recover, though. giving him a simple smile (it didn't reach your eyes. it shocks him how his chest ached at the realization) and shaking your head when he returns the gift to you.

“i understand, mr. sunday.” the formal usage of his name instead of your chipper ‘sunday!’ makes his face twitch. “but please, keep the gift. think of this as my last declaration. it... would do me a great comfort, just this last time, if you accepted it instead.”

(if he had grabbed your hand at that moment as you left for the door, would he regret it?)

when you leave, sunday thought it would put the conflicting feelings in his mind at ease—but it doesn't. a week and two days counting, true to your word, sunday receives no flagrant gifts, nor little messages on his phone that tell him to take care of himself, to eat, and to make sure to remember to check up on Robin.

instead, contrary to the feeling of ease, regret follows him instead.

it's at two weeks and five days counting when sunday could no longer stand the sight of papers that stacked atop his desk and the image of you leaving for the door replaying in his head far too many times for him to count, that he contacts Robin.

and she, once hearing about the situation, gives him a very, very enlightening talk. (of course, not without giving her brother a lecture of the lifetime. part of him felt shame to know that his sister knew of his... turbulent love life, but she was the only one who he could trust, anyway).

“absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she says. “but in your case, brother, your heart has already decided it's course, right?”

sunday eyes the smooth velvet of the jewelry box you gifted, ruminating. his earrings lie there, carefully pristine and beautiful, gold and silver intertwined. he has worn them without fail, clean and spotless. (of course it was. such a design so intricate was only chosen by you. the thought makes his ears warm).

the next days are agonizing. vigor renewed and epiphanies well-spent, sunday spends the rest of his time after finishing his duties researching and painstakingly finding the best jeweller he can find (even employing the suggestions of a certain gambler, much to his dislike), and spending a god awful amount of time revisiting and rechecking which spots you like, which places you enjoy, to the point it comes up in Penacony's headlines that sunday is interested in someone.

surely, it should've reached your ears by now, yes? sunday panics. your preferences are well-accounted for, and he's sure the Bloodhound family members that report to him have to tell you that the person he had in mind was you. even Robin, who was your closest friend, has probably told you already.

it's embarrassing to admit, but; to hell with it, the day he meets you after three weeks and sees you having a pleasant chat with aventurine, of all people, sunday thinks his heart had shattered into little pieces and stabbed themselves into his body. not so much as sparing him a glance, moreso.

so when, finally at his wits end, sunday chooses to corner you at the dewlight pavilion and spills out how he has royally screwed up in the worst way possible, no one is surprised. at this rate, you would be swept up in the charms of that wretched gambler, and what sunday lacked in, aventurine more than made up for.

“wait, don't go to that gambler just yet.” he's breathless, he's chaotic—and something in his heart squeezes when you finally look at him. “i... i wish to take up your time now, if that's possible.” (he wishes he would take up your time forever, really, but that was still too early).

you eye his getup. all of your gifts, lined on the man you spent so long chasing after—you see the gloves you gifted, the tie with not so much as a single crease, and the earrings that shine more brightly in the light of the pavilion. (it suits him. like you) it was as if sunday had completely surrendered himself to you, had all but decided to proclaim that he was yours, and this was nothing short of a plea for you to hear him.

“please.” he says. almost begs. “i can't bear not seeing you anymore. allow me to correct such a damning mistake.”

and if you were skeptical, the way sunday looks at you would dispel any doubt you could ever have. (his wings, they were fluttering.)

(months later, after a nerve-ending confession, many days of dinners, shared gifts involving matching jewelry and promenading to your wishes, it dawns on sunday he was absolutely dancing to your tune. did he regret it, though?

....no, most certainly not.)

if AVENTURINE were to be honest with himself, he saw you as a useful “friend” rather than a romantic interest. was it bad of him? of a sort. but risk cutting himself open and letting someone he might grow to care for know about all the ugliness that follows his life? no, he's fine as it is, thanks.

the first thing he notices is that you're kind—though he distrusted most of his colleagues and preferred none to get close to him, aventurine, in some morbid moment of curiosity, instead allowed himself to bask in your attention. instead of curtly disparaging you, he flirts back at your compliments (the way your face heated up in return was far too endearing that he can't help but want to kiss you he finds it amusing) and consistently texts you a “did you get home safe” or a “i bought you this because it reminded me of you”; at this point, it was like you two were dating.

was it leading you on? yes, but he supposes it was a win-win; he could send you those tiny bits of validation that was enough for you to stay respectfully at a distance while he probed at your intentions. unlike others who attempt to garner his favor, you're genuine, and you seriously take the time to know him. because you always text back with hearts, always reassure him, tell him to stay safe and wish him luck at every gamble, every high stakes bet he finds himself in. you even complimented his perfume once (and, if he had to be honest, he could not stop thinking about it all day—because that perfume he commissioned exclusively was based off of your own favorite scents and it was extremely embarrassing that he loved hugging you knowing that you loved the way he smelled and that it felt extremely domestic).

(sometimes, he doesn't reply. for months on end. suddenly the golden-haired man you love goes cold and you know then that aventurine ghosts you and then returns when he's in need of a friend—never a lover. it hurts you, but at the very least, you know he cares in his own way.)

and, if aventurine had to be honest, it was killing him from the inside bit by bit. as if to drive the knife deeper, you never danced around what exactly was going on with you two. you never ask why he ghosts you, then sends you a bundle of gifts all of a sudden and then rapidly spends time with you and repeating the cycle. no, you were consistently by his side, so warm and so caring—so unlike him—that aventurine wonders if it's really all right to open his heart to you.

if, by some chance, he actually wanted to be with you, would you treat him even more sweetly than before? aventurine thinks you would—you were beautiful in your entirety, and he was practically undeserving of you. he imagines himself kissing your hand and having you in his arms—and that feels like ice cold water being dumped onto his head, because you could do so much better and yet, why him?

so when aventurine hears about how a certain doctor was visiting you for some unknown reason, his already fragile sense of security in this little will-they, won't they crumbles.

and when he finds out that you were staying over with ratio? something twisted lodges itself in the little brushes of his heart, coiling and coiling—making him feel green. aventurine is aware you and the doctor are good friends, and ratio was the one who even told you to make a move on him! how could he just—suddenly interrupt?!

(was it dramatic? extremely. but knowing his friend and the person he secretly adores might end up together? you can't really blame him.)

he supposes this can be attributed to him. it was an egregious mistake, a blunder aventurine made—he never gave you a clear sight of whether he truly loved you or not and now you're slipping away from him.

so, he does something very unexpected.

at 3:00 AM in the wee early morning hours, aventurine practically barges into one Dr. veritas ratio's home, demanding what the hell was going on between you. and as if he had expected it, his doctor friend merely gives him a shrug in return.

“perhaps they were simply getting fed up by a certain IPC member—who is clearly head over heels in love with them—giving them mixed signals.” ratio's tone is stern, and aventurine definitely knows that the look he gives him is the one he gives only to fools.

you idiot, the doctor seems to say. yeah, yeah, he is; aventurine ignores the clear pinprick at his dignity.

yes, he supposes he is the fool here. “ah.”

“yes, ‘ah,’ indeed. now, let me propose a question.” the purple-haired man says. “will you react in such a way when i tell you that in order for my friend to stop their anguish, i managed to get them to fraternize with one of my colleagues?”

“...what?”

“they will be having a meet-up seven system hours from now.” ratio shrugs. eyes aventurine, who's looking at him like a gaping, stupid fish. “i can only hope that no one would dare to disrupt.”

...it doesn't take him long to be rid of the gambler by then.

(a few hours later, you stop by the Intelligentsia Guild to see one veritas ratio with a smug smile, eyeing the fur coat draped around your shoulders, and the flushed and happy expression written on your face.

“did it work?” he asks.

you laugh, “splendidly.”

indeed, that gambler was a fool, and there's nothing more than dr. ratio loved than to educate such fools to shape.

“that will teach him.”)

as a quote unquote ‘old man’ who knows that he's well up in his years for a relationship, JING YUAN finds you to be quite amusing.

it doesn't take a detailed analysis to know that you were smitten with him, really. you're a complete open book by his standards—if your heated face and slightly airy voice whenever you were even placed in the same vicinity with the Dozing General was anything to come by. while flattering, he also shares the similar mindset of being too old for any love his way—and he could be mara-struck at any given time, and jing yuan does not wish such a life filled with anguish and pain for the one who may steal his heart. but, worry not, brave suitor of the Arbiter General! unlike the other two above, this man has the experience of millenia, and is open-minded and aware that you truly wish to be perceived as a potential lover.

in fact, jing yuan's recent favorite habit is sneaking off the Seat of Divine Foresight purely to freak you out, watching you scramble up your words, seeing the heat crawl up your nape and bloom all across your face. adorable. you certainly knew how to appeal, that's for sure.

(“heh, it seems i've found a new place to stay in so that the Diviner Fu won't grill me alive when she sees me.”

and when he's rewarded with a bashful and speechless look in return, a smile and your, “i'm glad, general.” it surprisingly lightens up his mood by more than he expected.

that, in turn, gives him a frightening 30% energy boost; fu xuan was utterly shocked to see the languid man actually working and looking like he enjoyed it, for once.

“did something good happen today, jing yuan? why so enthusiastic?”

“i just felt like working more than usual, diviner Fu. i seem to have my energy levels at a high.”)

now, jing yuan is considerate and perceptive first and foremost, so there's a high chance that out of all the men here, he is the most open to giving you the chance to pursue him. he does inform you beforehand that he has no plans of accepting your confessions in the future, and that is where the ‘hard to get’ part comes in.

it's like playing a confusing romance visual novel with a fickle love interest—you never really know what you're doing, whether it's something jing yuan would like or not, and you don't know if he even thinks your attempts are moving his heart. (tldr: he friend zones you).

he maintains the same distance no matter his banters with you, no matter how many times you tell him that you'd help yanqing out with sword lessons. it's like he was just... treating you as he would a friend, and that you were basically stuck in the friend-zone forever.

(he keeps it to himself, but something warm stirs in his chest when he sees yanqing sleeping on your shoulder after training practice, with your arm protectively around the boy's side.

your sleeping face didn't make it easy to look away either; it's one of the few moments in which jing yuan shows just the slightest bit of reciprocating your pursuits; he brushes back the stray hairs covering your face, and drapes a blanket over the two of you.

of course, perhaps to tease yanqing, he also takes the calligraphy brush and makes a work out of his face, doodling all over it.

when you wake up, there's a lingering scent of ink and yellowed paper that fills your senses. when you turn to the boy beside you, you almost giggle out loud.)

it's a little disheartening—and while jing yuan did acknowledge that you were slowly, slowly burrowing yourself in his heart, he doesn't act on it fast enough, and instead lets the realization sit in his mind for a while.

it gets to the point where it feels as though he were preparing to distance himself, and even yanqing had asked if he was well. your visits with the Arbiter General also decrease, as he suddenly buried himself in his work even more than before.

he doesn't get to see you all that much afterwards, despite the lingering feeling of missing you filling his heart.

....that's until jing yuan hears word of a recent mara-struck incident involving the Sky-faring Commission; with your name listed among those heavily injured.

when he visits Bailu's clinic after yanqing urges him, jing yuan takes in the sight of you, littered in injuries from head to toe. your life, about to snap. he never even told you that you won; you did manage to steal his heart and for the first time in a long time, jing yuan allows himself to love.

so if, after three weeks later when you're finally healed up and ready to go, jing yuan brings you into his arms and drags you to let him sleep in your lap, you can't really blame him now, can you?

a/n: i love yearner hsr men,,, might do a pt 2 though. thinking of mayb ratio, jiaoqiu and f/heng next time...... sighs dreamily

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

[almost-blondee]

my hero | dante x reader

(dante sparda x reader | can be set in DMC'S game universe or anime! inspired by re4.)

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

When Dante was hired to rescue the daughter of a powerful, fortune-telling family, he expected someone pristine. Proper. Maybe soft-spoken, mysterious, and grateful to be saved.

Not... this.

He had slayed demons—multiple demons, mind you, just to reach the creepy, crumbling church where you were kept. Solved a ridiculously hard puzzle, nearly got impaled by a swinging axe trap, and had to put up with the scent of brimstone and rotting pews the whole way.

And this is how you  greeted him?

With a candlestick. To the chest.

Dante staggered slightly, looking down at the now-bent bronze stick protruding from his jacket. His eyes flicked up to the girl standing in front of him, panting, your expression twisted in panic. Her eyes were wide. He could practically hear your heart racing.

“Not the hello I was expecting,” he muttered, yanking the candlestick out of his chest and tossing it aside with a clatter. The wound was already closing.

Honestly, you were kind of a sight, even if your first impression was... intense. He glanced between you and the photo your had given him. Same eyes. Same pouty lips.

Definitely her.

“Who... the hell are you?!” you snapped, stumbling back and dropping to the floor, scurrying away like a terrified cat.

He placed a hand on his hip, unimpressed.

“I’m Dante. I’m here to save you.”

“No, you’re not! You’re-you're one of those things! You’re here to finish the job!”

Dante sighed. “Your father hired me to save you, princess. You can chill.”

But you weren’t having it. You grabbed a piece of broken wood like a sword and aimed it at him, still shaking.

“That’s it.”

Before you could react, he darted forward with lightning speed, hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, and threw you over his shoulder.

“Put me down! I swear to God - let go of me! This is kidnapping! You animal!”

“Yeah, yeah. Screaming won’t help your case.”

You flailed and kicked and pounded your fists against his back.

“I’m going to curse you! I’m going to curse your entire bloodline!”

“Aw, that’s cute,” he said with a smirk. “You think I haven’t already been cursed.”

And with that, Dante walked out of the church, the echo of your outraged shrieking following behind him as he carried you straight into your unwanted rescue.

He already knew this mission was going to be a pain.

But hell if it wasn’t going to be entertaining.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Okay... maybe you weren’tthat bad.

After he explained the situation to you—albeit while covering your mouth mid-scream—you started to calm down. A little. And after he saved you from, oh, multiple demon attacks, you finally stopped stabbing him with random objects.

Now, you followed his lead like a wary cat, tiptoeing behind him through the ruins of a quiet village. At first glance, it looked abandoned. Peaceful. But you knew better. Dante had warned you, some of the villagers weren’t villagers at all.

Demons. Disguised. Watching.

You stuck close, barely breathing.

Suddenly, Dante stopped and motioned toward a metal trash can.

You blinked. Confused. “What?”

He kept his voice low. “Hide.”

You looked from him… to the trash can… then back again.

“Seriously?” you hissed.

He turned to face you, clearly baffled. “Yes. Seriously. No choice, princess.”

You groaned and dragged your feet toward the bin like it was your destiny.

“This is so disgusting,” you muttered under your breath. “Ew. Ew. Ew.”

Dante smirked as he heard the faint, pitiful complaints from within. Then, without missing a beat, he drew Ebony and Ivory from his holsters.

“It’s showtime, baby.”

Gunfire erupted just as you hunkered down. Inside the trash can, you flinched at every bang, every crack, every roaring screech from the demon horde. Then you heard it:

“WOOHOO!”

You couldn’t help it,you laughed. A wacky wohoo pizza man saving your life? Not exactly what your cards had predicted. But fate clearly had a wild sense of humor.

The noise outside started to fade. Silence crept back in. Your heartbeat rose.

What if it wasn’t Dante who opened the lid next?

But a moment later, the top popped open and there he was—grinning like a devil who just cleaned house.

“You good there, princess?” he teased, but there was something softer in his tone now. A flicker of concern.

You sighed, brushing your hair from your face.

“Not the best, but it can do.”

He chuckled and offered a hand, easily lifting you out and carrying you from the filth like a damn knight in blood-stained leather.

“You don’t have to worry,” he said over his shoulder. “We’re near the castle. We’re almost out. I’ll have you back to your pops in no time.”

You looked up at him, something warm blooming in your chest. You clasped your hands together.

“Dante?”

He glanced back. “Hmm?”

“Thank you. For saving my life.”

He paused. Just for a moment.

“No need,” he said casually, turning away again. “It’s my job. Come on now—time’s valuable.”

And off you went.

You, the trash-can princess.

And him, the demon-slaying, woohoo-yelling knight.

Yeah… maybe you guys were a nice team.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You were cursed, a demon’s blood was injected inside you while you were unconscious.

One moment, you were walking beside Dante through the castle’s silent halls, chatting about exit plans and the next, your feet froze.

Your body stilled.

“Hey,” Dante called casually from ahead. “You good there, Princess?”

He turned, eyebrow raised. But when he took a step toward you, your hand shot up, swift and deadly. Before either of you could react, your fingers wrapped tightly around his throat.

The grip was monstrous. Not yours. Not truly.

“The girl… is mine,” a voice growled through your lips. Hollow. Unrecognizable. You watched in horror, unable to scream, to cry, to stop.

Dante choked beneath your hold, eyes never leaving yours even as he struggled. He could’ve fought back. He should’ve. But he didn’t. He was afraid of hurting you.

Then just as suddenly, the grip loosened. Your knees buckled and you collapsed, only to be caught by warm, steady arms.

“W-What… happened?” you gasped, blinking rapidly.

Dante smiled at you gently. “Nothin’ much, princess. It’s good to have you back.”

Now, the two of you were in the underground levels, taking a breather in one of the rare safe zones. A “save point” you called it, after one of the video games you played. A friendly mercenary from above had set up a dummy shooting range and Dante took to it like a kid at an arcade, blasting each target with confident ease.

And your cheers? They only made him better.

“Woo! Ten in a row!” “Nice shot, cowboy!” “Is this your secret stress relief?”

Your laughter echoed off the stone walls and Dante couldn’t stop the smirk tugging at his lips. He never thought babysitting a rich girl would be this… fun.

He wasn’t gonna lie, it felt nice, having you around.

But behind your claps and witty quips… something was stirring.

As he reloaded for another round, he noticed the silence. No clapping. No teasing remarks.

He turned, and there you were, staring at your hands. Your expression was distant. Haunted. The veins beneath your skin looked darker. Angrier. Your smile was gone.

“Hey,” Dante called softly, walking toward you. “You good, princess?”

You looked up at him, guilt swimming in your eyes.

“I hurt you,” you whispered.

“You had no control over that.”

“But still!” you snapped, frustration breaking through. “What if I do lose control? What then?”

You looked around the area, eyes glassy. Tears were beginning to pool, and you hated it.

“I’m sorry, Dante…” Your voice cracked. “I’m just… so scared.”

His eyes softened instantly.

“When that happened… I was there. Inside my body. Screaming, but no one could hear me. It was like… like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from!”

You stumbled forward, leaning into his chest. He didn’t hesitate—his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly, protectively.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Just the sound of your quiet sobs, and the steady beat of his heart.

Then he smiled into your hair and whispered:

“You’re the strongest girl I’ve known, (Y/N). What you did back in the castle while I was trapped and unable to reach you? You handled yourself like a damn pro. You’re gonna beat this. I know you will.”

He gently pulled back to look at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I’m gonna bring you home safe.”

Your eyes met his.

For once, the fear inside you faded just a little, replaced by something warm. Trust. Hope. Maybe even something more.

“Now come on, don’t you wanna try this shooting game?”

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

It had taken over.

Veronica. It was the name of the demon that had fully consumed your body, turning you into a twisted mirror of yourself. Black veins streaked across your face, eyes glowing an unnatural red, your voice dripping with venom as she mocked Dante with every word.

But the hardest part wasn’t the speed of her attacks. It wasn’t the razor-sharp accuracy or the maddening, taunting laugh echoing in the chamber.

It was you.

You,whose body Veronica now wore like a trophy, was why Dante hesitated. Each bullet, each strike, each blow brought him closer to ending the fight… and possibly hurting the one person he didn’t want to lose.

You, who had laughed with him in the darkest of places. You, who was the clear representation of why he saves humans. You, who made even a devil feel a little more human.

Then came the moment.

Veronica, grinning wickedly, spotted the flicker of hesitation.

“Jackpot,” she hissed. “So this is the weakness of Sparda’s son…”

She lunged for him—fangs bared, blade raised—but she stopped.

She froze.

From inside the shell, you fought. Screaming in silence. Pushing against the darkness. Your hands trembled mid-strike, and your knees gave out. Her control faltered.

“No… no!!” Veronica howled in rage.

As Dante effortlessly slices through the demons, his eyes never leave you. He could feel it, too, the pull, the connection, even though you were trapped inside that monster. But now, he had you back. You were fighting for control, resisting the demon’s urges to hurt him, and damn, if that didn’t make him proud.

The demon smirked, but it faltered when it realized you weren’t backing down. Dante grinned, his confidence returning like a wave crashing over him. "That’s my girl," he muttered under his breath. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he entered his Devil Trigger, the power surging through him.

The demon howled in defiance. “NO! I am the queen of everything! I WILL NOT FALL!”

Dante shot a look full of cocky confidence. "Yeah? Well, guess what? You’re about to get dethroned."

With one final slash, the demon’s body was sliced in half. You fell, but before you could hit the ground, Dante was already there, catching you in his arms. You blinked, your vision blurry, then you smiled up at him, warmth flooding your chest.

“D-Dante…?”

He smiled. “Gotcha.”

You blinked at him, dazed, but safe. Then you grinned weakly. “My hero.”

“Good to have you back, princess. I missed you.”

You looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Yeah?”

Before he could answer, static crackled through his comm. Lady’s voice cut in.

“You’ve got exactly five minutes before this place goes boom. Underground tunnel. Vehicle’s waiting. Move your asses.”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Buzzkill.”

He looked down at you again, cocky grin back in place.

“Well, what do you say, princess? Care for one last ride?”

You smirked, brushing hair from your face. “I’d be honored.”

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The jet ski roared across the water, moonlight shimmering off the waves. You screamed in exhilaration, clinging to Dante’s back as the wind whipped through your hair.

Finally, he slowed, stopping right in the middle of the vast, open sea. The stars above were glittering. Everything was still.

Dante leaned back slightly, looking over his shoulder.

“Not bad, huh?” he said with that familiar cocky lilt.

You chuckled breathlessly, cheeks flushed.

“What a crazy first date.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You consider this a date?”

You hummed. “Mm… yeah. I mean, you picked me up, saved my life, took me for a ride—kinda romantic.”

Dante chuckled, low and smooth. “Damn. Guess I’ve still got it.”

Then you leaned forward, close to his ear.

“You’ve been putting in work all day, Dante. How about some overtime? I’m sure you’ll enjoy this shift a lot more.”

He tilted his head slightly, that cocky smirk growing.

“I don’t think that’s in the company handbook... but to hell with it.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he twisted the throttle, sending the jet ski speeding ahead. “Hang on tight, princess.”

The engine roared, and the two of you shot forward, the water crashing around you as your arm found its way on his waist. Dante’s grin widened, his satisfaction palpable, especially when he glanced at you, a loving look in his eyes.

So this is what his father felt when he fell in love with his mother, Eva.

And Dante knew it all too well..

He hit the jackpot with you.

[almost-blondee]

"sorry" shishiba mutters from the driver's seat after he hits a speed bump, (that he didn't notice) sending the car flying— much to nagumo's dismay

you are sprawled across the nauseous man, sleeping peacefully after a long mission. it's not like you wanted to sleep on nagumo's lap, he offered it the moment he caught you yawning and resting your head against the window

"c'mere. i'm way comfier than a window!" nagumo chirps, patting his lap

little do you know, nagumo easily gets car sick but in his defense, you didn't have to know that

he was already lightheaded from the long car ride, how much more when shishiba decides to run over another speed bump causing the car to jerk once more

nagumo, who was leaning back against the plush leather car seats, grips on the grip handles tightly. his free hand flies towards your head to keep you steady, despite him on the verge of throwing up his entire pride and dignity out the window

you stir at the impact. letting out a sleepy groan as you crack an eye open

"nagumo?" you croak, voice hoarse from sleep. you slowly get up from his lap— only to be pushed back down by the man himself

"shh.. we're not at HQ yet. just go back to sleep" nagumo soothes, gently caressing your hair. ultimately lulling you back to sleep despite having an internal war with himself

it works somehow. when he feels your breathing go steady, he leans back against the seat again, looking out the window trying to desperately hold it in together until you get back at the JAA headquarters

he may be dying but at least you're comfortable, right?

nagumo squeezes his eyes shut when he feels another throb in his skull and a whirlwind brewing in his stomach when he suddenly glances up and accidentally meets shishiba's eyes from the rear view mirror

a long, awkward (more like embarrassing on nagumo's end) silence til shishiba's monotone voice breaks the silence

"you disgust me." shishiba deadpans

nagumo stares at him. blinking once. twice

was he watching the entire time?

"... just keep your eyes on the road.." nagumo says through gritted teeth, "and could you floor it... please"

[almost-blondee]

I STAYED UP ALL NIGHT DRWAING BECAUSE OFFICIAL MERCH DESIGN DROPPED

[almost-blondee]

Unintentional couple behaviour

you two acts like a loving couple all the time, so what happens when someone points it out?

characters: zoro, sanji, law, ace and sabo

words count: around 0.8k - 1.3k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

You do a lot of things for Zoro without thinking.

You wake him up when it’s time to eat. You stop him from training too much. You make sure he doesn’t get lost whenever the crew visits a new island.

It’s normal for you. Someone has to do it.

But one day, the others start teasing you about it.

It happens at lunch. You are eating with the crew when Usopp laughs and nudges your arm.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna get your boyfriend?”

You blink. “What?”

Sanji, cleaning his hands with a towel, nods toward the deck “That moss-brained idiot. You always bring him to meals. It’s like a little routine between you two now. Like a couple…”

“We’re not—” You nearly choke on your drink “We’re not a couple!”

Usopp grins “Then why do you always take so much care of him?”

“Because he’s stupid and forgets to eat!” you say, standing up “I’ll go get him, but not because of whatever weird ideas you guys have.”

You walk away while they laugh behind you.

You find Zoro exactly where you expect, napping against the ship’s railing, his swords next to him.

You roll your eyes and shake his shoulder “Oi, wake up. Lunch is ready.”

Nothing.

You shake him harder “Zoro. If you don’t get up, I’ll eat your food.”

He grumbles and waves his hand, like he’s trying to swat away a fly.

Sighing, you do what you always do. You grab his wrist and pull him up with both hands. He lets you. He always does, like it’s natural.

Zoro blinks at you, still half-asleep “Huh. You again.”

“Yeah, me again,” you say “Come eat before Sanji ‘forgets’ to save you anything.”

You’re still holding his wrist, making sure he doesn’t fall back asleep. That’s when you notice Nami and Robin watching from across the deck, smiling.

“What?” you ask, feeling awkward.

Nami smirks “You two are cute.”

Your face heats up “We’re not—he’s not—we’re not together!”

Robin chuckles “You do take care of him a lot.”

Zoro frowns, confused “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” you mutterl “Come eat.”

You let go of his wrist too fast and walk away, ignoring the warm feeling in your chest.

You think it’s over, but now you notice things.

Zoro always sits next to you at meals, even when there are other seats. You always save food for him without realizing. And during fights, he always protects you first, like it’s a habit.

And, worst of all, people keep pointing it out.

“y/n,” Chopper asks one day, tilting his head “Are you and Zoro dating?”

You almost trip “What?! No!”

“Oh...” He looks confused “But you act like it”

You groan “Not you too”

After that, you can’t stop thinking about it.

The next time you wake Zoro up, your fingers stay on his wrist a second too long. The next time he pulls you behind him in a fight, your heart beats faster.

And then one evening, when you catch him watching you with a thoughtful look, you realize you might be in trouble.

That night, Zoro speaks first.

“Oi”

You look up from your seat on the deck “What?”

He leans against the railing, arms crossed “Does it bother you?”

You frown “Does what bother me?”

“What people are saying” His eyes stay on you “About us.”

You swallow “Why? Does it bother you?”

He doesn’t answer right away “No” his voice is quieter than usual.

Your stomach flips and you look at the ocean “I mean… it’s just dumb teasing, right?”

Zoro doesn’t reply. Instead, he watches you for a long time. Then, finally, he smirks.

“Doesn’t really matter what they say” he says, voice calm but sure “I’d still stick with you either way.”

Your breath catches and suddenly, your heart won’t let you ignore this anymore.

For the next days you try to brush off what the crew said.

You really do, but it’s impossible to ignore when Zoro keeps acting the same way.

Like when you’re on lookout duty together, and he hands you his jacket without a word.

Or when you spar with him, and he pulls his hits just enough so you don’t get hurt.

Or when you fall asleep on the Sunny’s deck, and you wake up covered with a blanket, one you know you didn’t grab.

And every time it happens, you catch the crew watching. Smirking.

It’s driving you insane.

One afternoon, you finally decide to do something about it.

You find Zoro by the training room, lifting weights. His shirt is half undone, sweat glistening on his skin, but you shove that thought aside.

You cross your arms “Hey, Zoro.”

He grunts in acknowledgment, not stopping his reps.

You hesitate “…Why do you treat me differently?”

He finally sets the weight down, wiping his face with a towel “What?”

“You heard me...” You shift uncomfortably “You do things for me that you don’t do for anyone else.”

Zoro leans back against the wall, looking at you like you just asked a stupid question “So?”

“So?” You huff “That means something, doesn’t it?”

He shrugs “I guess.”

You blink “That’s it? You guess?”

Zoro sighs, scratching his head “Look, I don’t really think about it. I just—” He pauses, then shrugs again “I want to.”

Your heart skips a beat “…What?”

“I want to do those things for you,” he says simply “it’s not a big deal”

You stare at him “Not a... Zoro, are you serious?”

He frowns “What, you don’t like it?”

“That’s not the point!” Your face feels hot “You don’t do this for Nami or Robin or anyone else!”

Zoro looks at you, unimpressed “Yeah. Because it’s you.”

You freeze.

The way he says it, so blunt, so obvious, it makes your stomach flip.

He isn’t flustered. He isn’t overthinking it. He’s just stating a fact.

“…Oh.”

Zoro crosses his arms, watching you carefully “Is that a problem?”

You swallow “No. It’s just…”

It’s everything. It’s him always being there, always looking out for you, always treating you like someone important.

It’s a realization you should have had ages ago.

You let out a breathless laugh “I’m an idiot.”

Zoro raises an eyebrow “Well, yeah.”

You smack his arm. He smirks.

But when your hand lingers just a little too long, he doesn’t pull away.

And suddenly, you both understand... this isn’t just a habit.

It never was.

Ever since that conversation in the training room, things between you and Zoro have… shifted, but not in a bad way.

He still trains for hours. Still naps in random spots. Still bickers with Sanji.

But now, when you sit beside him, his arm naturally rests along the back of your chair.

Now, when you fight, he doesn’t just watch your back, he makes sure you’re never out of reach.

Now, when you look at him for a second too long, he looks right back.

Like he’s waiting.

Like he’s giving you the choice.

One evening, you find him on the Sunny’s deck, looking out at the ocean.

“…Can’t sleep?” he asks.

You shake your head, stepping closer “Thinking too much.”

Zoro smirks “Dangerous habit...”

You huff a laugh but don’t argue.

Instead, you stand beside him, silent for a moment before you finally ask...

“Do you regret telling me?”

Zoro frowns “Telling you what?”

“That you… actually treat me differently. That you want to.”

His jaw tightens slightly “No.”

Your heart does something strange “Good.”

You don’t give yourself time to hesitate.

Before doubt can creep in, you grab him and pull him down.

Zoro freezes.

For half a second, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe.

Then a quiet growl rumbles from his chest, and his hand cups the back of your neck as he kisses you back.

It’s firm. Solid. Like he’s been holding back for too long and refuses to anymore.

When you finally break apart, Zoro leans his forehead against yours, exhaling through his nose.

“…Finally” he mutters.

You grin “You were waiting for me?”

“Wasn’t gonna rush you” His fingers brush your jaw “You get there when you get there.”

You hum, leaning into him “And now?”

Zoro smirks “Now, you’re stuck with me.”

You kiss him again, just to make sure he knows you wouldn’t want it any other way.

── .✦ Vinsmoke Sanji:

Sanji has always been a flirt. That’s just how he is.

He calls Nami and Robin “my love” and “my dear”. He spins around the kitchen whenever they compliment him. He offers to carry their bags when the crew goes shopping.

But when it comes to you, it’s different.

It starts when the crew is eating dinner together.

“Sanji, can you pass the salt?” you ask.

Instead of handing you the salt shaker, Sanji grabs it, twists off the lid, and sprinkles just the right amount onto your plate.

You blink “Uh. Thanks?”

“Of course, my dear” he says smoothly. Then, as if nothing happened, he turns back to his own plate.

You think nothing of it... until you notice the way the others are watching.

Usopp raises an eyebrow “Did he just season your food for you?”

“Yeah?” You shrug “What's new about it? He's a chef and he’s just being nice.”

Luffy grins “He doesn’t do that for anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” you argue “Sanji treats everyone like this.”

Nami hums “Not exactly like this. If we wanted more salt he would start a lecture about how it would ruin his masterpiece.”

Before you can ask what she means, Sanji stands up to grab dessert. He places a plate in front of you first. It’s your favorite.

The crew stares.

You stare too “Sanji…”

He smiles “What? I made extra for you.”

Usopp coughs “Yeah. Okay. Totally normal.”

Robin chuckles behind her hand.

You shake your head and go back to eating. It’s nothing. Sanji is just being Sanji.

…Right?

But then, you start noticing other things.

When you’re cold, Sanji drapes his jacket over your shoulders without you asking.

When you need something from a high shelf, Sanji wordlessly reaches up and hands it to you.

When you’re about to trip, his hand is always there to steady you.

And every time, every single time, he does it so naturally that you don’t even think about it.

Until one day, Franky whistles and says, “You two sure act like a couple.”

You nearly drop the drink in your hands “What?!”

Sanji, who was stirring a pot at the stove, pauses.

Franky leans against the counter, grinning “You two do all that coupley stuff. He gives you the best food, takes care of you, treats you differently from everyone else—”

“That’s not true,” you say quickly “Sanji’s like this with everyone.”

Franky snorts “Nah. He does flirt with everyone. But this?” He gestures between you and Sanji “This is different.”

You glance at Sanji. He’s staring into the pot, silent.

Your face feels hot now “You guys are reading too much into things.”

“Sure we are...” Franky says, smirking. Then he leaves.

The kitchen is quiet now. You swallow and turn to Sanji.

“…Is it true?”

He looks at you. His usual confident smile is gone. Instead, there’s something softer in his eyes.

“I don’t know” he says “is it?”

Your heartbeat quickens.

Suddenly, every touch, every sweet gesture, it all feels different.

Maybe it wasn’t just a habit.

Maybe it was something else all along.

After all this the teasing has only gotten worse.

Ever since Nami and Usopp pointed out how Sanji treats you, they will not let it go.

“Here comes Sanji’s beloveeeed~” Usopp sings when you walk into the kitchen.

“I should start charging you for all the extra food Sanji makes only for you” Nami smirks.

Even Luffy, who usually doesn’t care about these things, grins at Sanji one afternoon and says “Oi, cook, when are you gonna marry y/n?”

Sanji chokes on his cigarette so hard he has to brace himself on the counter.

You groan and drag a hand down your face.

But what really drives you insane?

Sanji never denies it.

He stutters, blushes, waves his hands, but he never says “That’s not true.”

Because it is true.

And it’s starting to drive you crazy.

You try to ignore it. But then you start noticing things, even the smallest ones.

Sanji never lets you carry anything heavy.

He always pours you tea first, even before Nami and Robin.

He adjusts your chair at dinner like it’s second nature.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

But you do.

And now, every time he gives you that look—the one that’s soft, full of admiration, like you hung the damn sun in the sky—your heart stumbles over itself.

This has to stop.

Or something has to change.

It happens one evening after dinner.

You’re in the kitchen, helping Sanji clean up. He hums as he washes the dishes, sleeves rolled up, golden hair falling over his forehead.

You watch him for a second, then take a deep breath.

“Sanji.”

He glances at you, smiling “Yes, my love?”

You grip the counter “Why do you act like we’re together?”

Sanji freezes.

The faucet keeps running. The kitchen is warm with the smell of spices. But Sanji is frozen.

Slowly, he turns his head toward you “…P-Pardon?”

You cross your arms “You treat me differently. Even the crew notices. You never do this stuff for anyone else.”

Sanji swallows hard “I—”

“You never deny it,” you press “and honestly? I’m tired of waiting for you to finally say something.”

Sanji stares at you like you’ve just flipped his entire world upside down.

His hands shake. His lips part like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out.

“…Sanji.” Your voice softens “Do you want this to be real?”

A shuddering breath leaves him. He looks at you, eyes wide, vulnerable.

“More than anything...” he whispers.

Your heartbeat stutters.

That’s it. That’s all you need to hear.

You step forward, grab the front of his shirt, and kiss him.

Sanji malfunctions.

His entire body locks up, like his brain has completely short-circuited.

For a solid two seconds, he does not move.

Then a noise escapes him, something between a whimper and a desperate sigh, and his hands come up to cup your face, pulling you closer.

The kiss is warm, overwhelming, but soft, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he holds on too tight.

When you finally pull away, he’s redder than his own suit.

“…M-Mon amour,” he breathes, voice shaking “You...you actually...”

You smirk “Took us long enough, cook.”

Sanji makes a strangled sound and immediately buries his face in your shoulder, arms wrapped tight around you.

Outside, the crew is losing their minds.

“TOLD YOU!” Usopp shouts.

“I WON THE BET!” Nami cheers.

“Oi, Sanji, you alive in there?” Zoro snickers.

Sanji doesn’t answer. He’s too busy melting against you, whispering sweet nothings into your skin.

And honestly?

You think you’ll let him.

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

Law is not the kind of person who likes physical contact. He doesn’t let most people touch him. He keeps his distance, always standing at the edge of conversations with his arms crossed. If someone bumps into him, they get a glare.

But for some reason, you are different.

It starts when Bepo hands you a coat one evening.

“Here,” he says, tail flicking “you left this in the lounge.”

You blink at it. It’s black, long, and definitely not yours.

“This isn’t mine” you say, confused.

Bepo tilts his head “Oh. But you always wear the captain’s coat, so I thought it was yours now...”

You freeze.

“Wait. What?”

Shachi walks by and hears the conversation. He grins “Yeah, you totally do. Every time you’re cold, you steal his coat.”

Penguin nods “And Law never complains.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Try to remember.

…Okay, maybe you have borrowed Law’s coat a few times. But that’s just because it’s warm! And because it’s there! And because...

Oh no.

Your stomach twists “I... I do not...”

“Sure you don’t...” Shachi teases “What’s next? Calling him ‘dear’?”

You groan and shove the coat at Bepo before walking away.

But now, you can’t stop thinking about it.

After this, you start noticing other things. Like how Law always lets you into his personal space.

How you can tug his hat down over his eyes without him pushing you away.

How he casually rests his hand on your shoulder when he stands next to you.

One day, you trip over a loose crate. Before you even hit the ground, a familiar blue glow surrounds you... Law’s Room.

In an instant, you’re back on your feet, completely unharmed.

The Heart Pirates snicker.

“Captain didn’t even think” Penguin whispers.

“He never uses Room for anyone else’s clumsiness” Shachi adds.

You glare at them “I heard that.”

They just smirk.

Law doesn’t say anything. He just sighs and keeps walking, like saving you without thinking is the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart does something weird. You ignore it.

Later, you sit on a crate, arms crossed. Law stands next to you, reading a medical book.

You glance at him “Your crew keeps calling me ‘Captain’s partner.’”

He doesn’t look up “So?”

“So, why?”

He flips a page “Probably because you act like one.”

Your brain short-circuits.

You stare “Excuse me?”

Law finally looks at you, raising an eyebrow “You’re always in my quarters, you steal my coat, and you act like you belong next to me. They’re not wrong.”

Your face burns “I... You let me do all that!”

He smirks “I know.”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Because suddenly, you realize... he has let you. And he still is.

Ever since Bepo and the others pointed out how Law treats you differently, it’s been impossible to ignore.

The extra care during missions. The way he always stands just a little closer than necessary. The way he lets you touch him, his arm, his shoulder, even his hand, when no one else would dare.

But what really gives him away?

The way his ears burn red every time you get too close.

And yet he never says anything.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was running an experiment to see how long he could keep this up before you lost your mind.

So tonight you’re calling him out.

You find him in his quarters, buried in medical books.

“Hey, Law.” You lean against the desk, arms crossed “Can I ask you something?”

His eyes flick up “What?”

You tilt your head “Do you like me?”

Law chokes.

Not just a little cough... he full-on chokes on air, slamming his book shut as if that’ll somehow save him.

“What—?!” He coughs into his fist “Where the hell did that come from?”

You raise an eyebrow “You tell me.”

Law scowls, shifting uncomfortably “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Oh? Am I?” You step closer.

He stiffens “What are you...?”

You place your hands on the arms of his chair and lean in, caging him in.

His breath hitches.

Oh. Oh.

He is not prepared for this.

“Law,” you murmur, watching his face closely “you never let anyone touch you, but you let me.”

His jaw clenches “That doesn’t—”

“You always make sure I rest. You check my injuries before anyone else’s.”

“Because you’re reckless—”

“And...” you lean even closer “your ears are red right now.”

Law swallows.

You smirk “So, wanna try again?”

For a long moment, he just stares at you, lips parted, golden eyes darting between yours.

Then, in a last-ditch effort, he growls... “You’re annoying.”

You hum “Maybe.”

And then you kiss him.

Law goes still.

For the first time since you’ve known him, he is completely speechless.

But then a quiet sound escapes him, and his hand suddenly grips your wrist, holding you there.

You almost pull back, unsure, until his other hand slides around the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, and he kisses you back.

It’s hesitant at first, but when you don’t pull away, something shifts.

The kiss deepens, his grip tightens, and the heat radiating off of him is enough to make you dizzy.

When you finally part, Law exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against yours.

“…You’re gonna be a problem” he mutters, voice rough.

You grin “Yeah?”

His fingers tighten in your hair “Yeah.”

And then, despite everything, he kisses you again.

Because for once in his life he’s done running.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

Ace is naturally affectionate.

He throws an arm around people’s shoulders, laughs loudly, and grins like the world is a joke he’s in on. He’s warm but also because he makes people feel welcome.

So it’s not weird that he touches you a lot.

Right?

It starts when Marco sits down next to you, smirking.

“You and Ace finally together, yoi?”

You look at him confused “what do you mean?”

“A couple… are you two a couple?”

You almost drop your drink “What? No!”

Marco raises an eyebrow “You sure? He always saves you a seat at meals. Always gives you his food if you ask. Always keeps an eye on you during fights.”

You roll your eyes “That doesn’t mean anything. He’s just like that.”

“Not with everyone” Marco takes a sip of his drink “Just you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but then you don’t know what to say, because now, you’re thinking about it.

The next time Ace sits beside you at dinner, you notice how he slides his plate a little closer to yours, letting you steal his food.

The next time the crew docks at an island, you notice how he instinctively waits for you before walking off together.

The next time you’re about to trip, you don’t even get the chance to fall, Ace grabs your wrist and steadies you like it’s second nature.

And maybe it is second nature.

“Careful, Ace,” one of the division commanders teases “If you keep acting like that, y/n might actually think you’re in love.”

Ace laughs, scratching the back of his head “Yeah, yeah.”

You laugh too. Because it’s just a joke… Right?

One night, you sit together on the deck, watching the ocean.

You fidget for a second before saying “The crew keeps calling us a couple”

Ace hums “Yeah?”

You glance at him “Why do you think that is?”

He leans back, arms behind his head, and grins “Probably because we act like one.”

You choke on your own breath “Excuse me?!”

Ace tilts his head “I mean, we do everything together. You always take my food, and I always let you. You always pull me out of trouble, and I always let you. Feels natural, doesn’t it?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because now that you think about it... yeah, it does feel natural.

“…Ace,” you say slowly “Are we...?”

He looks at you, amusement flickering in his eyes “What do you think?”

Your stomach flips.

Because suddenly, you’re not sure where the habit ends and the feelings begin.

After this, Ace keeps flirting with you all the time.

It’s just who he is.

Winks across the deck. Throwing an arm around your shoulders. Calling you hot stuff like it’s your actual name.

You’re used to it.

But after the teasing from Marco and Thatch, after realizing that Ace treats you differently, you start to wonder.

Is he just playing around? Or is there something real underneath?

There’s only one way to find out.

The perfect opportunity comes one afternoon, when Ace flops down next to you on the Moby Dick’s deck, grinning.

“Hey,” he drawls, resting an arm behind his head “Miss me?”

You smirk “I saw you literally two hours ago.”

“That’s two hours too long.” He winks “Bet you were thinking about me the whole time.”

You hum, tilting your head “You really think that, huh?”

Ace chuckles “C’mon, you love me.”

You raise an eyebrow “Prove it.”

He blinks “Huh?”

You shift, leaning closer with a sly smile “You say all this stuff, Ace. You flirt, you tease... but are you actually serious?”

For the first time, he hesitates.

Just for a second, but it’s enough.

“…Of course I am,” he says, but his usual confidence isn’t all there.

You smirk “Then show me.”

Before he can react, you grab his hat, his precious hat, and plop it onto your own head.

Ace short-circuits.

“Oi! That’s...!” He reaches for it instinctively but stops mid-motion, staring at you.

You tilt the brim with a smirk “What? You said you liked me, right?”

Ace swallows “Y-Yeah?”

“Then just take it back.”

You expect him to snatch it back playfully.

What you don’t expect is for Ace to grin, eyes flickering with mischief, and suddenly tackle you onto the deck.

You yelp as he hovers over you, forearms braced on either side of your head.

The crew whoops in the background, but neither of you pay them any attention.

Ace smirks down at you “You think you’re funny, huh?”

You grin “A little.”

Ace shakes his head, chuckling, but then his expression softens.

He reaches up, tilts the hat back just enough to see your face properly.

And then without thinking he leans down and kisses you.

It’s grinning into the kiss kind of playful. It’s warm and teasing but full of something deeper.

And when he pulls back, face way too close, he murmurs “Now you gotta prove it.”

Your heart races.

You don’t back down. Instead, you tug him down by his necklace and kiss him again.

This time, Ace melts.

When you finally break apart, Ace huffs out a breathless laugh.

“Well,” he grins “Guess you do love me.”

You roll your eyes “Shut up.”

But you don’t stop him when he kisses you one more time.

Because, honestly?

He’s right.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo is easy to be around.

He’s kind, smart, and always ready to listen. He laughs at your jokes, never forgets your favorite things, and somehow always knows when you need him.

So it’s no surprise that you spend a lot of time together.

But apparently, the way you act around him is a little… suspicious.

It starts when you’re walking through the Revolutionary Army base with Koala.

“So,” she says casually “when are you and Sabo going to make it official?”

You nearly trip over your own feet “What?!”

Koala grins “Come on, don’t play dumb. You two already act like a couple.”

You scoff “No, we don’t.”

She raises an eyebrow “Oh really? Who’s the first person Sabo looks for when he gets back from a mission?”

“…Me.”

“Who’s the only person he lets borrow his gloves?”

“…Me.”

“And who’s the only one he lets fall asleep on his shoulder without complaining?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because—oh.

Oh.

Koala smirks “See what I mean?”

You shake your head “That doesn’t mean anything. We’re just close.”

She shrugs “If you say so.”

But now, you can’t stop thinking about it. You start noticing things, like how Sabo always finds a reason to sit next to you during meals, or how he reaches out to fix your collar or tuck your hair behind your ear like it’s normal, or how he always makes sure you have a blanket when you fall asleep at your desk, even though no one else gets that treatment.

And the worst part?

Now that you’re paying attention, everyone else is too.

“I swear, it’s like they’re married” one soldier mutters.

“They finish each other’s sentences” another whispers.

“Bet they don’t even realize” someone else chuckles.

You groan and drop your head onto the table.

Sabo, sitting beside you, blinks “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” you mumble.

He frowns, then wordlessly slides his drink toward you.

You stare at it “…Did you just give me your drink?”

He shrugs “You like it more than I do.”

You glance around. Several soldiers are watching now, smirking.

Slowly, you push the drink back to him.

Sabo looks confused “You don’t want it?”

Your face burns “Nope. I’m fine.”

He tilts his head, then shrugs and takes a sip.

The others snicker.

You sigh.

Later that night, you sit beside him on the rooftop, watching the stars.

“Sabo,” you say carefully “do we… act like a couple?”

He hums “Why?”

“People keep saying we do.”

Sabo leans back on his hands, thinking. Then he smiles “I guess I can see why.”

Your heart skips a beat “You can?”

“Well, we’re always together,” he says easily “I trust you more than anyone. You take care of me, I take care of you. Feels normal.”

You stare at him “That’s… kind of a couple thing, don’t you think?”

Sabo looks at you for a long moment. Then he smirks.

“Well,” he says, voice teasing but gentle “do you want it to be?”

Your breath catches.

And suddenly, the answer seems obvious.

Sabo has always been easy to be around.

You never have to force a conversation. Never have to second-guess his presence.

He’s just there, a steady warmth beside you, the hand that always steadies your back when you walk through the Revolutionary camp, the person you find yourself naturally leaning against when you’re tired.

And the thing is?

He never pulls away.

Even now, sitting beside you near the fire after a long day, his arm rests lightly along the back of your seat. Close enough to feel, but not demanding.

It’s natural.

But tonight, something’s different.

There’s a quiet between you, not uncomfortable, but charged with something unsaid.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly your head is resting against his shoulder, and instead of shifting away, Sabo just exhales softly, tilting his head against yours.

You close your eyes, feeling the warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“…I like this” you murmur, barely thinking.

Sabo hums “Me too” A pause. Then... “I always have.”

Your heart stutters.

Slowly, you lift your head, turning just enough to meet his gaze.

His expression is calm, too calm, like he’s waiting for you to understand something he’s known for a long time.

And you do.

Because of course it was always him.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Instead, you reach up, gently tracing your fingers along his jaw.

Sabo closes his eyes briefly at the touch before opening them again, watching you with something unreadable, something deep.

Then, without hesitation, he leans in.

The kiss is slow, certain.

It’s not rushed, not desperate because this was never a question.

It was always going to be this.

When you part, Sabo lingers, his forehead resting against yours.

His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together easily.

“…Feels like we should’ve done that a long time ago” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours.

You smile “Maybe. But I think we got here at the right time.”

Sabo chuckles softly, squeezing your hand “Yeah. I think so too.”

And when he kisses you again, it feels like something that was simply meant to be.

[almost-blondee]

Sasuke might've been Kakashi's karma for what he did to Minato but Naruto is definitely a payback for what he did to Sakumo 😂

Good thing he can't read minds because Inner Sakura would've ended him lol

[almost-blondee]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ IN WHICH mydei has been acting more suspicious lately, and the chrysos heirs are determined to get to the bottom of it.

content. fluff + crack! not proofread and probably ooc. happy valentines! 🫶

mydei is acting strange today.

it hasn't just been today, but the past few weeks that he's been off in his own head — mydei, who's known for bringing havoc wherever he steps, has been mysteriously off the grid.

he's only present in meetings in a physical sense, his mind obviously filled with thoughts about other matters unrelated to his job — he's not even present in the non-mandatory meetings (even though he always used to), nor does he bathe and cleanse in the palace's hero pools.

aglaea thinks a trial of judgement might have to be made, trianne thinks he's just homesick, but ultimately, the heirs decide that it's best for phainon to figure out what's going on with him.

so, he does.

mydei is always up before the sun begins to rise (that part hasn't changed for some reason, much to phainon's dismay), so he starts to tail him before it gets bright, hiding behind the tree bark as mydei gets ready for the new day, stepping out of his home and walking straight into the plaza.

things feel normal for the first few hours — his rival is meticulous in his work, so he oversees their small military force with great care, even if he looks a little out of it sometimes. phainon doesn't usually spend the day staring him down every second, so he chalks it up to the man taking small breaks when no one's watching.

the first alarm bells ring when mydei finishes work far faster than usual, and takes off as fast as he can.

the deliverer decides that a bird's eye view would be best to keep a keen eye on the warrior who seems to be in a rush to go somewhere.

he finds out two things in the five minutes he sprints after mydei: one, that running after him puts all of his other workouts to shame, and two, the place that he's so keen on going to is a chocolate store.

phainon stops in his tracks immediately, skidding on the wooden rooftop he was running on.

he takes the moment to catch his breath, huffs of air escaping his lips as he wonders what insane titan possessed mydeimos "health nut" the undying, who refused to drink sparkling water a week ago, to willingly step into and out of a sweets store of all places.

hurriedly, he pulls out his teleslate.

Phainon: He just walked out with like two boxes of chocolates

Castorice: are you sure that's the same mydei

Phainon: Trust me, I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it either

Aglaea: Chocolates? Is he alright?

Tribbie: maybe he's just feeling sad ☹️ get better mydei!

Castorice: we're rooting for you, mydei!

unless it's to check up on his people and buy local cuisines and ingredients from kremnos, mydei rarely lets his presence made known in public, especially in the local markets where citizens are constantly crowding the booths.

that's why the second alarm bell rings when he not only confidently enters the market, but peruses the selection carefully.

mydei walks around, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes intense like a man on a mission as he glances over flowers, rings, stuffed dromas, and golden scarabs, before stopping at a second-rate shop.

phainon doesn't mean to assume, he really doesn't, but the shop looks unkempt at best, and suspicious at worst — a ratted purple tent covering the objects inside, the market is too open for him to move and find a different view, so he stays planted, crouching lower out of mydei's field of vision.

he watches with bated breath as an elderly man comes out, greeting mydei with a smile. the warrior gives him a polite one in return, bending down to whisper something in the man's ear.

phainon's too far away to hear the conversation, but the elder visibly stiffens when mydei speaks to him, immediately rushing back into the shop to grab a small box, and placing it into mydei's open palms.

mydei's gleeful smile almost looks evil when he clasps onto the box, patting the trembling man on the shoulder before heading on his way right back out.

for the second time, phainon reaches for his teleslate.

Phainon: I think he just robbed someone in the market

Aglaea: What?

Castorice: what

Tribbie: WHAT

Phainon: Should I confirm with the man or keep following him?

Aglaea: Keep following him. I'll send someone to the market, keep us updated.

Castorice: we're rooting for you, phainon!

putting the teleslate back in his pocket, he sighs, getting rather weary of mydei's incessant energy.

it's his duty as a chrysos heir to make sure another one isn't doing anything suspicious, though, so he'll honor it, even if it means stalking the man through the holy city until it's sunset.

he follows mydei right up to the edges of okhema, and the final alarm bell rings when he turns around, his eyes scanning everything on ground level as if to make sure there's no one to follow him, before slinking off into a back alley.

phainon thinks he might be going crazy. there's no way mydei of all people would be doing something shady, and much less illegal, would he?

a squeal echoes off the walls of the dark alleyway, interrupting his doubts.

he jumps into action imediately, jumping over a planter pot or two to get to the cry for help faster, his breath quickening as he sees a figure standing close to the heir. phainon automatically reaches for his claymore, his fingers itching and ready to protect an innocent before he hears the figure laugh.

it's a familiar laugh, he realizes, it's you, the regular he often sees at the baths.

he inches closer, peeking his head down past the rooftop, finding mydei opening the box of chocolates for you, an uncharacteristically soft smile playing on his features.

"mydei," you frown, "i thought we said we didn't want to do anything special for valentines."

"i wanted to surprise you," he inches it closer to you, "don't be foolish, take a bite."

"i can't!" a small whine enters your protest, "I didn't get you anything, how could i—?"

"take it," he insists. he drops his voice lower, a softer question escaping his lips, "for me?"

you feel your face heat up at the request. how could you say no to a face like that?

you pluck a chocolate heart from the box, pointing to it's twin that lives on the other side with your pinky finger, gesturing for mydei to pick it up. "c'mon, loverboy. only if you do too."

he rolls his eyes, picking up the heart.

phainon stares in abject horror as you feed the man the chocolate, pushing the sugar against his lips as he does the same to you. you end the exchange with another excited squeal, flinging yourself haphazardly into mydei's arms — he stumbles back just a little bit, small bars of chocolate littering the streets as he stabilizes himself against the stone, one arm wrapped around yours.

phainon's teleslate buzzes (has it been buzzing this entire time?), and he gets momentarily distracted from the scene below him to find castorice sending in another message.

Tribbie: i just checked with the man, he gave him a gift for his child! i think it was handmade by mydei, and he was refining it or something

Aglaea: Oh, that's quite sweet, actually.

Castorice: aww that's so cute!

Aglaea: Any news, Phainon?

Tribbie: i think he's ignoring us ☹️

Aglaea: He wouldn't dare.

Castorice: phainon, are you there?

he moves to respond, before glancing down at you once more. you're still hugging mydei, your face buried into his chest as you mumble something under your breath. the problem isn't you, no, but the man you have your arms wrapped around making direct eye-contact with phainon.

his eyes flicker from phainon's to yours, before he delicately pushes you off his body, his expression morphing into a kinder one.

"i still have another present for you," he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, "let's leave all the single people here and go somewhere else."

"hm, what people—?"

"ugly ones." he grabs your hand, cocking his head farther down the alleyway, "c'mon, there's a way out back this way."

you agree easily, following him without a care in the world — you don't really care where you go with mydei, as long as you get to be with him.

unbeknownst to you, mydei looks back to phainon —a rival, but a friend and confidant nonetheless, someone he could always rely on in the heat of battle — with a shit-eating grin on his face, the type of smug look that only a mother (and you, apparently) could love.

single, and ugly.

phainon's eye twitches.

Phainon: It's an imposter. I'll bring you his head, Aglaea.

the teleslate buzzes once more while he readies his claymore to demolish the man that can't be more than a few blocks down — the man probably laughing his ass off with you, and doing other couple stuff that phainon couldn't even dream about.

as far as he's concerned, though, love dies today.

Castorice: we're rooting for you, phainon!

i am so tired goodnight ueueueue will be dreaming about my phainon/mydei polycule 🙏🙏🙏

divider by @/enchanthings!!

[almost-blondee]

—» Cozy Tart & Sun's Blessing

pairing: baker!reader x florist!sunday!au

genre: fluff, more fluff, fem!reader, strangers to lovers-ish

notes: it's been a while since i've written anything of that kind, i might be back if my inspiration allows me to be hehe. (PS my style might not be everyone's cup of tea and i know this isn't the best piece but i do hope it's somewhat enjoyable nonetheless) have fun ~

One rainy, late friday afternoon was all it took for your life to change entirely. Your shift in the bakery was almost over, when a young, handsome looking man walked through the heavy glass doors into the ever-cozy bakery.

He was drenched, gray-blueish hair sticking to his insanely handsome face — which he ran one of his unoccupied hands through, to free himself of any uncomfortable sensations. He looked like he ran straight out of some shampoo commercial. How was it fair for someone to look that gorgeous? Enough of that, he's a potential customer, stay professional!

You wondered if he had forgotten his umbrella or if the storm outside blew it out of his hands. It did happen to you just a few weeks prior, but he didn't seem like the person to be clumsy, or did he?

Said man took slow but deliberate steps in your direction and as his eyes finally found yours already watching him, his expression changed from one of discomfort into something much more relaxed and he let out a sigh he didn't know he held back. After all, the comfortable atmosphere combined with the sweet smell of pastries already lifted his mood greatly.

You were stood behind the counter, already awaiting his order, as you gave him your best smile. He was the last customer after all, might as well make the best of it and help this handsome wet cat of a man make this evening less depressing than the weather outside.

You wouldn't want it to rain even more cats and dogs.

His gentle voice reached your ears, though he did sound a little bit worn out from a hard day. "Good evening ma'am, I'd like to order a hot herbal tea—" he paused for a second to think, watched your expression carefully and then added, "and please add the last two pudding tarts to the list, thank you."

Oh, so he's polite and handsome.

You were so deep inside your own bubble that you didn't even realize that you were staring right into his soul.

"Excuse me—" he looked at your name tag to address you properly, "Miss [name], is something the matter?"

Blinking once, then twice you finally managed to come back to your senses. Goodness, how many times in the span of the last two minutes did you start to imagine a future with him? Get yourself together.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, "Excuse me, Sir! It must be the rainy weather getting to me. I'll get your order ready this instant."

The man in front of you let out a smooth huff of his own as he replied, "don't you worry a thing. The weather surely does behave quite out of order today."

A quick glance out of the big window in the corner told you that it would be out of order for quite a bit longer. It was then, that you heard a quiet rasp from the man in front of you until he added, "And please, Sunday is just fine."

Sunday? Is just fine? But wasn't today Friday?

You didn't think too much of it, nodded your head in his direction and turned around to prepare his tea. The smile was still on your face, albeit a little bit wonky due to your confusion.

Two minutes later and everything had been prepared. One of his delicate hands put the cash on the counter while the other took the tea and the bag filled with his goods.

The business was done and he was about to leave, walking back into the mess that was called the world outside of your little warm shop. Letting him leave like that while he was drenched felt so utterly wrong but could you just intervene in a strangers' business? Well, it surely didn't hurt to be nice.

Reaching your hand out into nothingness, you uttered a soft, "Please Sir, consider staying for a little bit longer until the rain has calmed down. If you'd like, you can enjoy your tea and your tarts at one of our free tables." You then took a breath and pointed to his still very wet hair, "I can get you a towel too if you'd like!"

Sunday stopped walking, considered your kind words for a second and then turned to let your gazes meet once more, a warm and appreciative smile already on his lips. "I appreciate your offer Miss [name] but I fear I can't just overstay irresponsibly and take up more of your precious time. You're off your shift already, aren't you?"

Your gaze swiftly wandered to one of the clocks behind you and indeed, your shift had already ended 10 minutes ago.

Just as you wanted to give him one of your very smart retorts, Sunday had already started walking to the exit again. His right hand had lifted just high enough to let you see him wave at you.

The door closed behind him and a humongous sigh finally pushed past your lips. You didn't even get to know his name, what a shame.

But you know what they say. One always meets twice in ones life.

While you were cleaning up the rest of the tables and the counter, you couldn't stop thinking about everything that went down earlier at all. Was it weird to think that something felt different with him? You've never really thought of anyone after they entered nor after they left your shop, so why him?

Maybe you just needed some sleep, yes that was probably it. Tomorrow, everything would be back to normal, your heart would be calm again and your face wouldn't give away the shadows of today.

Say sike right now. This new day was something entirely out of this world.

The rain pitter-pattered it's way down onto the streets even harder than yesterday. Could a certain water god be any more generous with his soul shattering sky shower?

And to make things worse? You were late to your best friend's birthday. Could your day get any better? You swore you were a positive person but the rain truly made you question the odds.

The way to the flower shop felt like forever. The streets were flooded, your pants and the hem of your coat were splattered with mud due to the puddles everywhere and your hair was drenched. You looked like a wild cat that had been dropped into the bathtub after it rolled around in dirt. At least you didn't drink any coffee today or else you'd be the equivalent of a wild wet cat on catnip.

The task was simple, go to the flower shop, get a huge bouquet of your best friends' favorite flowers and then rush to her place and prepare the rest before she wakes up.

Your wet hand slipped off the flower shop's door handle twice before you managed to open it properly to let yourself in.

The bell at the door rang just as you let out a huff, finally being out of the rain.

A young woman with blueish hair greeted you just as she heard the bell chime, a gentle smile on her beautiful face. "Hello and welcome to our flower—" she quickly stopped herself after taking in your poor state.

She rushed into the back of the shop and then you heard some quiet, hushed whispers. Oh no, were you that hideous today that even the flowers were unwilling of being in your presence? Wait, flowers can't whisper, can they?

A few moments passed and another person emerged with the friendly looking woman in tow. Oh, this couldn't be. Surely you must still be dreaming because there was no way this was how you'd be meeting Mr. Drenched-But-Still-Handsome from yesterday?

Said man stepped forward, he eyed you with a gentle smile on his lips once more. "It seems the weather isn't in either of our favors. Please allow me to get you a towel."

Before you were able to even as much as utter a word, the woman introduced herself to you. You learned that her name was Robin and that she was the sister of the man who managed to worm his way into your brain over the course of 10 minutes.

You didn't know which facial expressions you were making right now but you were sure they must've been entertaining, considering the fact that Robin was holding back a chuckle herself.

Sunday came back with a towel in one hand and a mug in the other. "I wouldn't want to overstep but may I ask you to take off your coat? I'd rather you don't catch a cold."

And so things went their way. Sunday sat you down on one of the chairs in the back, towel over your head and mug in your hand. Robin hung up your coat to dry, they insisted you couldn't possibly leave like this.

Robin decided to "run some errands" soon after you settled in comfortably but didn't leave before telling you, "You know, Sunday — I mean, my brother told me all about yesterday. You must have left one kind of an impression on him. Rest assured that you're always welcome here."

While she was gone, you and Sunday spent some more time together. He eventually made you sit at the front with him while he took care of some of his own customers. What kind of gentleman would he be if he let you sit at the back all alone? After all, YOUR beauty didn't only brighten up his days — the flowers would like to have a word in too.

But wait, did Robin call him Sunday or were you just slow? You were pretty sure today was Saturday.

That very same fateful Saturday on which you scored yourself a date with the most handsome man you've ever had the honor to lay your eyes upon.

And while your best friend didn't get to wake up to the surprise you had planned for her, she still got to spend her special day with you. Just a little later, as the sun shone brightly in the sky again with no traces of rain left behind.

You wouldn't even know it had rained, weren't it for Sunday's contact in your phone, his message already reflecting off the display.

"Would you like to go out with me tomorrow? I heard pudding tarts taste the best when enjoyed under the sun."

On a Sunday. He is in fact just fine.

©written by sunday-kisser

[almost-blondee]

Vash the Stampede from 1998 and the Vash reboot: [Twitter:@strawbit_ch]

[almost-blondee]

Caught

Sunday x reader

Sfw

Part 2 of sleepless night

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: kinda nervous to upload this, hopefully it’s not to boring… i really enjoyed writing this… So Thanks for reading and please let me know if you enjoyed it would mean a lot lol!!. Hopefully Sunday inst to out of character… Hopefully there’s not to many mistakes, if there is please ignore them i tried my best to find them.

———————————————————————————

Awoken by the strong smell of coffee, and the faint noise of a machine. Sunday slowly sits up from his spot on the couch. stumbling over to have a sat at the bar in the party car, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Asking Shush for a glass of water, the usual since he joined the express. He chugs the glass down when placed in front of him, The cold liquid running down his throat. The refreshing feeling hard to top. He sits at the table for a little longer today. Wondering if he had disturbed anyone last night with his late performance. Somehow he was still in the gloomy mood he was before he went to bed. They usually say you get more emotional at night. Which is usually true for him, so he more or less expected to be laughing at himself for thinking such thoughts. However, they were still fresh in his mind. He needed to do something.

Just as he was going to make his way to the Parlor car to indulge in the book he was currently reading, he had heard a voice, a voice he knew well. Your voice. It sounded as though it were on the other side of the bar, he could not see you, nor could you see him. It seems that you were having a conversation with March 7th. You’d sounded a little distressed. Sunday slowly sat back down, he knew it was bad to eavesdrop, but technically he wasn’t. He had just so happened to hear your conversation, right?

“No March i’m serious, you have to believe me.” He heard you whine.

“I’m not sure… are you seriously not playing a prank on me?” Marchs voice sounding a bit skeptical.

“I swear, why would i lie about this… i need your advice. Your the only one i can come too” you reply sounding really desperate

This has now piqued Sundays interest, he needs to know what your dilemma is. Maybe he could help…

You had ended up falling asleep last night with some difficulty, but at least you got some rest. You had been to focused on what you saw. The image never leaving your mind once. At first you thought that maybe it was just a dream, and there hadn’t been some shockingly handsome angel dancing around playing a beautiful melody in the party car. Sounds like a dream alright… And that’s exactly the problem. What everyone could only dream about, was right in front of you… how did it take you this long to notice the absolute beauty living so close. However now that you have noticed, it will be hard to even look at him.

You think back to the moment… you sit admiring the image that you have in your head, perhaps glorifying it a bit. But soon it has you kicking your feet, shutting your eyes, and squealing. Once you realize you probably look like a teenager who finally made eye contact with their crush, you stop and get ready to go downstairs. To the party car.

Once you are freshened up, you head downstairs, hoping to find March so she can listen to your ‘oh so horrible problem’ What? you needed someone to confide in. When you had made it to the bottom of the stairs you scanned the room for any sign of March, and secondly Sunday. you had found March sitting by the bar. So you quickly made your way over. Seeing no sign of Sunday in the process. You chopped it up to him already leaving to sit in the Parlor car to read. Although he hasn’t been on the express long you still picked up on his habits. You also knew he would usually get up early, so this was not strange to you. Unfortunately, you were horribly wrong, and he was still intact in the room, let’s just say you were eager to tell March about what you had seen last night.

You, now seated beside March, started to tell her that you may or may not have a little crush on the new passenger on the express. Cue her reaction, thinking that you were pranking her. “Where did this come from… This has to be a joke. Just out of nowhere?”

“No March i’m serious, you have to believe me.”

“I’m not sure… are you seriously not playing a prank on me?” Marchs voice sounding a bit skeptical.

“I swear, why would i lie about this… i need your advice. Your the only one i can come too”

March just stared at you then made a gesture for you to continue.

Your eyes brightened and you hugged her closely, almost falling off your chair in the process.

“Thank you!!! And just so you know it wasn’t out of no where, i had just… never seen him that way before, i’m sure you fall for him if you had seen what i saw” You say with sparkles in your eyes.

“ i highly doubt i would but, continue…”

“No i swear, You should have seen it. He was holding his violin with the perfect posture, his eyes closed, you could see his long dreamy eyelashes, and his lips slightly parted just enjoying the tune. He was swaying like he was slow dancing, it was the most beautiful thing i’ve seen, it was so… enticing” March slightly cringes at the way you worded that. “And don’t get me started on his fingers, he was playing the instrument with such ease gliding his fingers across it making it look easy, And AND GUESS WHAT?” You are definitely invading her personal space by now.

“ What…” March says hesitantly.

“HE WASN’T WEARING ANY GLOVES!!!! his hands, bare, i feel like a victorian man seeing a girls ankles for the first time. i’ve never seen more beautiful hands in my life… I wouldn’t mind having those all over me.” You whisper the last part, but judging by Marchs face she heard what you said.

“U-uh okay, TMI much… Maybe keep those kinda thoughts to yourself? please?”

“Oh you heard that… Sorry” you slap your hands together in front of your face.

“So why exactly did you need to tell me all of that?” March asks, hoping that she didn’t have to hear more. It not that she didn’t want you to confide in her, it’s just that this kinda stuff wasn’t really her forte, especially when it had to do with a man that she knew was on the other side of the bar… Yes she knew and had the audacity not to tell you. But in her defense, she had no idea you would take it this far, especially in a somewhat public area for all ears to hear, this one’s was on you.

you sit back in your chair and look to the ceiling,

“ Uh i don’t know i just felt like getting it off my chest… It kept me up almost all night!”

Then you hear a door opening and shutting, you crane your head to the side to see Himeko, walking in with 2 cups of coffee, one presumably for her and the other? You weren’t sure, you and March both don’t drink coffee and Himeko knows that. Now you had gotten everything off your chest you had started to think logically, for the first time in 12 hours. Damn me and my big mouth, you thought to yourself hoping that it was Welt or Dan Heng on the other side. You are now not listening to what March is saying to you, focusing on Himeko as hard as you can. Hoping, praying she will say this persons name. Himeko had by now made her way to the other side of the bar. You can hear the saucer being placed on the counter, being followed by

“One signature Coffee for Mr. Sunday”

Your heart stops. Just what in the world was your luck. When did he get there. How much had he heard. Did March know and not tell you…

“Oh Mr. Sunday are you not feeling well, you look quite pink?” you hear Himeko question.

“O-oh no i’m quite alright, thank you for the coffee, Miss Himeko.” He say timidly.

Curse him and his heavenly voice.

You quickly excuse yourself from your conversation with March and swiftly make your way to the other side of the bar.

March had more or less figured out what was going on.

When you turn the corner, you see Sunday sitting by the bar, his face quite pink, which makes him even more enticing. He looks up at you and your eyes meet. His face getting progressively more red, almost putting Himekos hair to shame. His wings quickly take to his face trying to hide it. He is embarrassed out of his mind right now. He has never heard anyone talk about him in such ways. Loving and quite lustful, he heard that comment about his hands. All the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind, disappeared in an instant when he had heard you talking. He was now more focused on how you could say those things out loud, especially to another person, and not feel embarrassed. However, the loudest thing in his head right now was his heartbeat. He couldn’t control it, he was elated that you had thought about him in such light, because him too thought about you in said light. His heart full of pride to hear you praise him so highly, this was a new feeling. Being praised by the one you love is quite the feeling.

He needed to say something to alleviate the awkward atmosphere. So he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Um, Good Morning Miss (y/n), did you sleep well?”

kicking himself for such a stupid question. As if he hadn’t just heard you whine about loosing sleep about him.

“How much did you hear?” quite straight to the point you were.

It took Sunday aback. Should he be truthful, or lie for the sake of your dignity. “Um, i heard most of what you said…” he trailed off into a whisper. Ultimately he chose to tell the truth. The blush never leaving his face as he looked at you from just above his wings, still covering his face.

You couldn’t take the sight, he looked so vulnerable, so timid, and so adorable. You could feel your own face heating, both from the sight in front of you and, the fact you had just completely embarrassed your self in front of your ‘new love’.

“Yeah… about that, sorry you had to hear all of that… i got a bit carried away” finally replying sheepishly.

By now March had dragged Himeko out of the car, so you and Sunday could talk things out. Way to go March!

“ i apologize if i made you uncomfortable with my comments, i had no intention of you every hearing about this…” You continue to explain hoping to leave the car with some pride left.

“Quite the contrary, Miss (y/n), although i am a bit surprised you see me this way, i have not complaints. You are quite the beauty yourself. It would be a shame if i never heard about these thoughts.” Sunday slyly said wings now slowly revealing his face. If anyone were to hear this conversation, they would think that Sunday was cool and composed, However seeing him would thoroughly change their mind, he looks just about ready to overheat.

You on the other hand were shocked by his response, He thinks you’re a beauty? Could this get any better! Or worse i guess. you are now sat beside him, both of you facing each other. Now just silence… The silence that used to haunt the halovian in front of you. He would feel hopeless, worthless, and lost. When the silence would overtake his thoughts he would lose all his will to continue. But for once, since he boarded the express, He was comfortable with the silence. There were no thoughts in his head other than you As he stared into your eyes. He could almost see his reflection. Hoping to see himself the way you do, worthy… He is wanted, even if it’s just by you, that would be enough for him.

From now on he can see himself welcoming silence, even yearning for it if he got to stare into your eyes like this every time.

He’s fallen hard. Perhaps one day you will know just how much he loves you.

He will remember this day forever, the day that made him realize he was born in this world for a reason, even if that reason was just being yours, that’s more than enough for him.

almost-blondee

Tags 🏷️

@96jnie

[almost-blondee]

Sleepless Night

Sunday x Reader

Sfw, Just my thoughts,

word count: 873

There will be PART 2

A/N: I was just feeling like writing about Sunday, This has no interaction between Sunday and reader, Sorry. But….There will be a PART 2 Where they interact. So hopefully you stay tuned. Hopefully he isn’t to ooc, i. tried my best. And again sorry for any grammar mistakes

———————————————————————————

It’s been sometime since Sunday had joined the astral express temporarily, and within that time he had begun having some unnecessary feelings flare up in the process. Worthlessness…Incompetence… These feelings are honestly nothing new to Sunday, however he is now burdened with the heaviness of silence. Being the head of the Oak family, left him a busy man, no time to just sit idle and get lost in thoughts. Now, on the contrary, he has all the time in the world to get sucked in to the spiral of emotions.

He is very grateful to the Nameless for letting him take refuge in the express, understanding that they have limited space on the train. So for the time being Sunday would sleep in the party car. This worked quite well, having everyone on the express in the living corridor, he might as well have the whole car to himself… Unfortunately for him, he has let his thoughts consume him, How come i have to sleep on this couch, why don’t i get a room to myself, Do they even want me on the express with them, they must still be wary of me, no body really wants me here… and so on. Although he knows that these are selfish thoughts, the mind has a way of thinking on its own. These thoughts plaguing him whenever silence would take over. March was not complaining to Dan Heng about him ‘cheating’ in their chess match’s , You were not talking his ear off about who knows what, you could ramble on for hours… Not a soul to be found in the party car. Sunday, lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. How many times has he done this, He needs sound… Something to free his mind from these convictions.

He sits up swinging his leg gently so they meet the ground, slowly walking toward a case that’s lying by the wall. Thankfully before leaving penecony Sunday had chosen to bring his violin with him. He relished in the sound, it soothed his soul. How could he not bring it. He knows that he’s not the best musician, but it would always help him relax. Open the case and taking out the stringed instrument, he lifted it to just under his chin and started playing. He would usually know better then to make loud noises during the night, and maybe this would make the Nameless hate him even more… But in this moment he needed to hear something other than the devil on his shoulder. Swaying with the violin in hand, slowly moving in a pattern that almost looked like he was dancing, he was content. Forcing out all his feelings onto this wooden instrument, using it as a form of therapy, he was lost in the sound. So lost that he hadn’t noticed you coming down the stairs, moving slowly so he would not notice.

You had been in the living space above the party car. tossing and turning, you were having trouble sleeping. Stopping to stare at the ceiling hoping that if you just closed your eyes you would be accompanied by sleep, wishful thinking. Just when you think all is lost, you hear a beautiful melody… it’s sounds like a violin. The melody was full of sorrow, you could feel the emotions that drove the performance. You had felt lured to check who was playing this beautiful tune. you slowly made your way down the stairs catching a glimpse of a silver haired man swaying to the tempo of his playing, dancing around the car, enthralling you, he had looked like an angel. You could feel your cheeks begin to burn, while you watched this man so deep in his performance. You had never really thought about Sunday in a romantic way. But for some reason watching the display in front of you made you feel something. If this were a movie the audience would think he was a charmer and you were the snake following his lead. You feel as if you have been shot with cupids arrow, even drank a love potion… Seeing this man and watching him produce this beautiful song, made you fall in love, you know deep down this feeling didn’t just come from no where he is a very kind man, generous and willing to change for the better, it was inevitable not to fall in love. You had just never seen him in this light. As you are now frozen still sitting on the stairs, which must have happened a while ago, your face so hot that it might leave burns. Sunday finished up his song slowing the melody to a soft humming, he on the other hand felt relaxed. He had cooled down, almost putting himself to sleep with his lullaby. He sluggishly walked back over to the wall to put the instrument away. *Clank* His head snapped over to where he thought the noise came from. The stairs.

He Scoured the stairs faintly lit by the bar lights, only to see nothing. It must have been his imagination. Soon after he was snuggled into the couch, nodding off into a deep slumber.

You in the other hand… Are definitely not sleeping tonight.

almost-blondee

[almost-blondee]

"don't call me that ever again."

» summary: your little quarrel with sunday leaves you up at night. but then you hear the piano.

» rating: sfw

» notes: this was not supposed to be 1k words

you toss and turn in the discomfort of your bed. you feel too hot, your legs too jittery, and your blanket feels like it’s suffocating you. that, and your thoughts run rampant, carrying a deep set shame with them. you’ve always been an overthinker. this is worse. this is eating you alive.

sunday joined the express just three days ago, and you’ve noticed how uncomfortable he seems around the other nameless. reasonably so, given the events that unfolded in penacony. they may have said that they’re willing to give him a chance, but that doesn’t mean they are immediately going to be relaxed around him. you, however, have something wrong going on with you. because you do not feel threatened by his presence. you feel that he’s changed. and you’re dead set on making everyone get along.

so, in an attempt to make sunday feel welcome, you decided to give him a nickname, and in your proactiveness you completely forgot to account for the type of person sunday is. of course he wouldn’t like being called sunny. it’s sunday. and it took him chewing you out to realize the mistake you’ve made.

you’re an idiot.

there’s no use trying to sleep. you tell yourself this as you lift the pillow off your head and push yourself up with the intention to get yourself a glass of water. it is when your bare feet make contact with the floor that you pause. you swear you just heard something, and as you stop moving and focus really hard, you realize that someone in the party car below is playing music. not just any music… it’s the piano.

you make your way to the door and when you open it and enter the stairway leading down, the sound grows less muffled, until the somber tune is clear in your ears. a couple more steps down and you pause. there, not too far from the stairs, sits sunday at the piano, seemingly absorbed in playing music.

not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on one of the steps, leaning against the railing and watching him play. though you only get a view of his back, you can clearly imagine the kind of face he’s making right now. his entire body, from his fingertips to his head and his feet, moves with confidence you haven’t seen him display in a while. genuine confidence. and as you continue to listen and your eyelids grow heavy, you think how lovely it would be to listen to this forever.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

you wake up back in your bed. puzzled, you stand up and stretch, then look around yourself. strange. if you’re not on the stairs… was it a dream? were you dreaming of sunday? the thought makes your cheeks turn pink. no, this is to be expected. you were thinking of him while falling asleep, so of course you would also dream of him.

you make your way downstairs once you are dressed, joining the rest of the trailblazers for breakfast. the rest of your day goes as normal, and as you’re not currently on a mission, it is filled with the usual chores around the express. you skillfully avoid sunday, figuring that he probably doesn’t wanna see you anyway. as you complete your chores, however, you can’t not notice the fact that you feel like you’re being watched. every time you take a look around however, everyone seems preoccupied with their own things… including sunday, who’s always nose deep in one of his books.

you decide not to think too much of it.

nighttime arrives and you’re back in your room, back in your bed. sleep escapes you once more, and you find yourself wanting it to. you’re still unsure whether what happened last night was a dream. you’d prefer it not to be. and as you rack your brain for an answer, it comes from outside your door. you sit up and pinch yourself as hard as you can.

not a dream. you’re awake! it really happened! but then - who carried you back?

your hand hovers above the doorknob. what if it was sunday? could you face him right now if you knew it was him? sighing, you finally open the door and step out. it’s not like you’ll join him downstairs. you’ll just listen from high up on the round staircase where he won’t see you.

and that’s what you do. you take a few steps down, then sit down and lean against the cold railing. it’s the same tune as yesterday… melancholic but calming, with a hint of yearning. what does sunday yearn for, you wonder. must be a lot of things now.

you wish to get to know him.

“i was wondering if you would show up,” suddenly comes his voice, piano music uninterrupted.

you flinch, almost hitting your head in the process. “how did you know?”

“the stairs must be uncomfortable. why don’t you get down?” sunday doesn’t answer your question.

you’re petrified. did he notice you last night, too? slowly you get up, making your way downstairs with a racing heart. why do you feel like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar?

sunday’s eyes remain on the piano’s keys, even when you’re standing next to him fiddling with your thumbs. he then lets out an amused huff, and you feel even more like a deer in the headlights. at last, his fingers leave the keys to rest in his lap and his golden eyes find yours.

“i’m sorry,” you suddenly blurt out. “i didn’t mean to intrude.”

sunday raises his eyebrows. “actually, i was going to apologize too. for keeping you up.”

“you didn’t keep me up. well - well, technically you did. but not with the piano…” oh aeons, you’re digging your own grave. your words visibly confuse him. “look, i’m sorry. for calling you that nickname. i didn’t mean it out of malice, quite the opposite actually. but i should have thought about it more.”

sunday’s eyes seem to search every single pore on your face, to the point it’s starting to make you feel very exposed and very embarrassed. then, he turns to the piano once more, fingers stroking the white keys idly.

“is that why you avoided me?”

“m..maybe.”

a small smile graces his features. “you’re overthinking it.”

those words feel like a punch to the face.

he continues, “i don’t hate you for it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

you perk up. “so can i call you sunny?”

“don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

“of course.” and you wilt again.

uncomfortable silence follows. something hangs in the air between you two, despite the cleared up misunderstanding.

so you ask, “what were you playing?”

“claire de lune, by johann debussy. i don’t suppose you know it,” he answers.

“i don’t, but ouch.”

he smiles, again, and you wonder if he enjoys watching people squirm. you chase these thoughts away. then, sunday shifts on the chair and pats down the empty space next to him. you take the cue and sit down.

“do you always follow directions like an excited puppy?” he asks, and before you can answer, his hands assume position and start playing again.

you sit next to him, and the soothing melody does nothing to slow your quickly beating heart. and when you glance next to you, you find sunday, unbearably close. so close, in fact, that you notice his long eyelashes, his unusually relaxed face, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

it is then that it dawns on you: you are impossibly attracted to this man.