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cheriecelestial · 3 months ago

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Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack.swearing.not proofread

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated.

Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.

It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.

And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.

“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature.

In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.

_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.

_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard.

Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.

He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?

Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off.

edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author

And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black.

He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.

[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]

[System activated]

[Pairing command successful]

“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise.

[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]

Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]

Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.

[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]

“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.

The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ?

[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]

The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying.

“Son ? Can you hear me ?”

“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?

His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.

“Where am I ?”

“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.

Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.

The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.

“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"

Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.

[System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]

[System : Booting Up]

Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”

[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]

Jason—Jacob—felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.

[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]

He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.

“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.

“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.

[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]

Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.

“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.

[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]

“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.

[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]

Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.

“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.”

[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]

“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.

He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.

As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.

“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.

“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.

“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.

Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.

Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.

Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.

After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.

“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.

“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.

“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.

[Mild OOC warning]

“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.

Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.

Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.

“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y’know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.

Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.

The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.

And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.

At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.

Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.

Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.

The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.

[Edward Cullen]

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.

Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.

[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.

Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.

Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.

[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]

[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]

I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?

Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.

“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.

“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.

Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”

As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.

[Why did you do that ?]

“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.

[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]

“Oh come on !”

“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.

“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.

“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.

“Nothing just… trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.

Who was that man ?

A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.

#jacob black’s self saving system #jbsss #scum villian self saving system #scumbag system #scum villain #twilight #jacob black #bella swan #edward cullen #luo binghe #shen quingqiu #svsss #mxtx svsss #mxtx #ducky if you’re seeing this just know I owe you my life and firstborn

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sprawberry · 21 days ago

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𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 : 3.6k ‹𝟹

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 : Arthur Morgan x F!reader. You were a very young bride falling in love with a man who was nothing but a farce, enduring years trapped in a horrible and abusive marriage. You meet Arthur, with the promise of a better future. ‹𝟹

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 : Hello! So...I was in a very strange mood and I decided to write this one, I had this idea for actually a good few months but this time I finally put it down instead of using it as a recurrent scenario in my mind.

This is the first time I'm posting something like this here so...enjoy! Sorry if it gets boring or something, I'm a disgrace with dialogue and this was a very wild shot lol. Feedback is appreciated always.. ‹𝟹

🧸 & 🧸 ‹𝟹

You should have listened to your parents when they whispered warnings about him, their voices laced with worry as they tried to tell you the truth hidden behind his charming smile. But you, blinded by the intoxicating idea of love, thought they were just trying to stand between you and your perfect future. You were so young, so naïve, and he was almost ten years older, wiser, with promises of the world at your fingertips.

He swept you off your feet with grand gestures: the dream house, children, fancy clothes, and dinners at tables you’d never seen before. He spoke of a life you never had, feeding you sweet words as though he could erase the struggles of your youth with luxury. But you didn’t realize, not until it was too late, that he didn’t love you, he loved the idea of owning something beautiful, something fragile. You were never more than a pretty thing to him, a prize for display, and by the time you saw the truth, it was already too late.

Once the honeymoon was over, that picture-perfect dream crumbled, leaving you trapped in a gilded cage. Instead of being happy and loved, you became a prisoner in your own home.

Years passed, and the mansion, once a dream, became your prison. You wandered its vast, cold hallways like a ghost, barely existing, never free. You weren’t allowed outside, not allowed to live. He controlled everything, your life, your children, even your thoughts. You lived for the moments when you were alone with your books, imagining a world where you could be free. But freedom felt impossible, a distant dream too far out of reach.

Even your children, the only light left in your life, were kept from you, locked away by his paranoia. He was convinced you’d ruin them, that your only contribution to their lives was the beauty you gave them. He told you so, over and over until the words sank in like poison. After all those years, it broke your heart that you believed him.

His wealth was built on secrets, the kind of shady dealings you were never allowed to question. Late-night meetings with town politicians and criminals weren’t unusual in your home, the smell of expensive cigars and hushed conversations lingering long after the guests had left. You were always present but never really there, a decoration, something for him to parade in front of his associates like a prized possession.

He would place a hand on your back, guiding you into the room, his eyes gleaming with pride as he introduced you. "My beautiful wife, yet her body is more useful than her brain," he'd say with a chuckle, and they would laugh with him, nodding in approval. You were supposed to laugh, too, forced to flash a smile that never reached your eyes.

In those moments, you felt more like an ornament than a person, a living, breathing doll meant to be admired, but never truly valued. His grip on you was suffocating, tightening with each public display, as if his words kept binding you deeper into a life you could never escape. The weight of their laughter echoed in your ears long after they left, and every time he kissed your cheek in front of them, you felt yourself disappear just a little more.

You found solace in the smallest of things, the tasks you could perform around the house without drawing his disapproving gaze. The delicate act of watering the plants or dusting the bookshelves became a quiet rebellion, a way to keep your mind occupied while the rest of your life felt out of your control. But it was the garden, those carefully tended beds of flowers, that brought you the most peace. Every spring, as the roses bloomed and the trees filled with new life, you felt a fleeting sense of freedom, even if only for a moment.

That day was no different. You were given a brand new dress, elegant but understated, signaling that guests would soon arrive. The familiar routine played out like clockwork, he made sure you looked the part, beautiful but not so dazzling as to outshine him. The fabric swished as you moved, and though the dress was lovely, it felt like another cage.

You stole glances out the window, watching the garden sway gently in the breeze, its beauty untamed compared to the rigid, controlled world inside. You knew the house would soon be filled with laughter, cigars, and the empty praise of those who admired you as a trophy. But for now, you had the flowers. And in their quiet blooming, you saw the reflection of what your life could be if only you were free enough to reach for it.

The footsteps of your husband approaching echoed down the hall, pulling you from the window. You sighed, smoothing the fabric of your dress, and prepared to step into the role he’d crafted for you once again.

"Dutch Van der Linde, I'm glad you came", your husband said, extending his hand with that calculated charm he was so known for. His fingers rested on the small of your back, a possessive gesture masked as affection. "And your associates, of course," he added, his voice smooth as ever.

You were barely paying attention to the formalities, the cordial exchanges that had become a monotonous part of your life. The room felt distant like you were standing there but floating somewhere else entirely. Your gaze softened, unfocused until a small shift in the air brought you back. You blinked slowly, forcing yourself to return to the present as your husband and his associates retreated into his office.

But one of them lingered in your mind.

You hadn't noticed him at first, he was just another face in a crowd of men your husband normally entertained, and to be honest, you never paid much attention to those who came and went.

But there was something in the way he looked at you, something unspoken in the warmth of his small smile. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it struck you deeply. The kindness in his expression, the quiet acknowledgment in his eyes, it was so different from the cold, calculated glances you were used to.

For a brief moment, you nearly smiled back. It felt strange, like an old reflex you hadn’t used in years. The simple exchange, so casual yet delicate, left an unexpected warmth in your chest. And as your husband’s voice trailed off into the distance, you couldn’t help but wonder, what was it about him that made you feel seen, if only for a fleeting second?

With that thought burning in your mind, you did something reckless, something you knew deep down you probably shouldn’t have. As the evening unfolded and the guests began to depart, instead of retreating to your bedroom as usual, you lingered in the hallway, heart pounding. You waited. You wanted to see him one last time.

Oh, Arthur. That was his name. You’d heard the Dutch guy mention it in passing as they discussed some murky business you had no interest in. You didn’t care about the details. All you cared about was catching another glimpse of him, those blue eyes that had met yours with something you hadn’t felt in years.

You stood quietly by the grand staircase, hidden enough to remain unnoticed but close enough to see. As the men filtered out, you scanned the room until your eyes found him. Arthur. He was different from the rest of them, or so you thought, rough around the edges but with a presence that seemed grounded, real. And when he glanced your way, just for a second, his eyes softened again. It was that small look, that brief acknowledgement, that felt like a lifeline in the endless sea. Your breath caught in your throat. His smile, faint yet kind, was enough to make your heart ache in a way you hadn’t felt in so long.

And though he was leaving, though you knew you might never see him again, you couldn’t help but wish, desperately, that those warm blue eyes would find you just once more before he disappeared from your world forever.

One particular night, under a silver-washed sky, you drifted through the quiet shadows of the garden, where the moon hung high, illuminating every petal and leaf. Inside, laughter spilt over like cheap champagne, glasses clinking and voices rising in an annoying clashing harmony, one you had no part in.

It was your home, they all said. But within those walls, your presence was a ghostly afterthought, a figure to be ignored or displayed as it suited him. So you slipped out, slipping into the garden's quiet embrace—a place where you could finally breathe.

The night air was cool, and you felt a weight lift from your chest with each step into the hushed stillness.

You leaned against the old stone wall, letting your mind wander with the breeze that stirred the hedges, feeling, just for a moment, that you belonged to something beyond those oppressive walls. In the moonlit quiet, surrounded by the scent of blooms and damp soil, you almost forgot the life you left behind indoors, that gilded cage.

“Miss, ain’t it a bit cold to be out here all alone?” The voice came soft and low, like the distant rumble of thunder before a storm, and it pulled you sharply from your quiet reverie. The faint scent of cigarettes filled the air as you turned, caught off guard, and there he was, Arthur, framed in shadow and starlight, looking even more striking than your memory had dared to capture. His eyes catching the silver moonlight, tracing over you with a subtle warmth.

A month had passed since that fleeting moment in the were your eyes met, yet here he was as if pulled by the same invisible thread that had tugged at your heart all those long nights. His gaze lingered, and a soft smile touched his lips, a smile that felt like it could chase the chill from the air.

And the first time in so long, words caught in your throat. You could only look at him, feeling the world fall away, leaving just the two of you under that deep, star-filled sky.

The chill of the evening wrapped around you, yet his nearness was a quiet warmth you couldn’t ignore. “It's alright, I'm not cold.” You whispered, the words slipping out steady even though your heart betrayed you, hammering as if it sensed the weight of this moment.

Arthur’s gaze held yours, deep and steady, as if he were looking straight into you. He didn’t need to say anything; the look in his eyes was a silent promise, an unspoken invitation that pulled you in. A gentle breeze brushed past, lifting a few strands of your hair, and he reached out, fingertips just grazing your cheek as he tucked them back.

His touch lingered, a fleeting warmth that made the coldness around you dissolve. “Figured you might need some company.” He murmured, voice so low it barely broke the night air. His hand dropped, hovering close, waiting. And in that small space between you, there was a sense of home you’d been missing, a kind of peace you hadn’t felt in years.

A soft smile curved on your lips. “What a gentleman." You murmured back, amusement sparking in your eyes. “Offering company to a stranger.”

Arthur’s brow lifted slightly, a glint of knowing in his gaze as he replied, “You ain’t no stranger.” He leaned in just a little, his voice dipping to something almost conspiratorial. “You’re the lady of the house, ain’t ya?”

The title felt foreign, heavy even. Lady of the house, how odd it sounded coming from him, as though he were trying to fit you into a shape someone else had carved. You didn’t answer right away, letting the weight of it settle. Finally, you nodded, just a breath of agreement. Even if you both already knew who the other was.

“But I reckon you don’t feel much like one, do ya?” he asked, studying you with a kind of quiet understanding that threatened to undo you right there.

"How could you even know that?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and honest, and for a moment, you wanted to kick yourself for laying so bare before this near stranger.

Arthur didn’t flinch. He only held your gaze, his eyes softened by something deeper than pity, an understanding that felt like a balm and a wound all at once. He shrugged, almost casual, as if he hadn’t just seen right through you.

It was strange, really. A part of you knew you should bristle at his casual insight, that you ought to defend your position, to guard the fragile narrative of your life. Yet, standing there beneath the moon's watchful gaze, a magnetic pull urged her to lean into the honesty of the moment.

"Just a feeling," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "Seen that look before, y’know? Same as the ones trapped and miserable, thinkin’ the walls don’t show."

His presence felt like an open door, an invitation to unburden her heart, to spill her secrets onto the floor between them. You felt the weight of your words pressing against her throat, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you wanted to share every scar and shadow.

"It's not what it seems." You found herself saying, your voice barely above a whisper, each word a fragile thread that could unravel at any moment. "I’m more of a prisoner than a lady."

The night wrapped around them like a silken veil, soft and tender, and for a fleeting moment, she almost forgot where you were. Her gaze met his, and the warmth in his eyes melted away her walls. He didn’t look at you the way others did, there was no judgment, no pity.

“Tell me." He said, voice barely above a whisper, the gentle gravel in it like music. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?”

Your breath caught, and you tried to laugh, but it came out as a shaky sigh. “Somewhere far from here." You replied, looking away, though the longing in your heart felt almost too fragile to share. “Somewhere I could just… breathe.”

Slowly, his hand came to rest on your cheek, grounding you, his touch gentle yet electrifying. You looked back up at him, surprise mingling with the quiet thrill that rippled through you. “I could take you.” He said softly, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, but there was something else, too—a promise wrapped in his words, as if he truly meant it with all his heart. “Just say the word, and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

For a moment, you allowed herself to imagine it, just the two of you, leaving the mansion’s heavy walls behind, escaping the life that held her captive. You let the dream fill your mind, painting a picture of freedom in his arms, of waking to gentle mornings where laughter replaced fear.

“Arthur.” You whispered, his name slipping from your lips like a secret, one you hadn’t known you'd been keeping. Your pulse raced, your heart pounding in your chest, and you found yourself leaning closer, drawn in by the warmth radiating from him.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” You murmured, your voice barely steady, though you couldn’t hide the yearning that laced your words.

“Maybe not.” He replied, his eyes tracing the lines of her face, drinking in every detail as though you were a rare and beautiful thing he wanted to memorize. “But I know I’ve never met anyone like you, and I know I’d do just about anything to see ya safe.”

The words hung between them, charged with the weight of possibility, and you felt something shift within you, a stirring of hope that tasted bittersweet. “I don’t even know who I am outside of this place." You confessed, barely able to hold his gaze, afraid he’d see the depth of your vulnerability.

“You’re more than this.” He said, voice as steady and sure as the earth beneath their feet. His fingers brushing her cheek, lingering just a heartbeat longer than necessary, his calloused thumb tracing your lower lip. “You’re strong, more than you know. And if you ever want to find out who that person is, I’ll be right here.”

A shiver ran through you, though it wasn’t from the cold. Your heart felt full and fragile all at once, and you found herself leaning into his touch, just the faintest tilt of her head, but enough to feel his warmth seep into your skin.

“And...what if I wanted to be with you?” You whispered, the words leaving you before you could second-guess them.

In the soft, quiet night, with only the stars bearing witness, you closed your eyes and leaned into him, the weight of the world slipping away, if only for a heartbeat. And in that embrace, you found a glimmer of herself, mirrored back in the warmth of his arms, a fragile piece of happiness cradled between them, ready to grow.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, gentle yet filled with something deep and unspoken. He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing small, comforting circles. “Then we’d find a way." He murmured, his voice a promise, rich and soothing, as though he could already see their escape in some distant dawn. “Ain't never let you face it alone.”

As days slipped by, that promise he made wrapped itself around your heart, tugging softly with each stolen glance and whispered word. Those midnight clandestine encounters in the hidden corners of the garden, were yours alone.

In those moments, the mansion and all its trappings faded away, leaving only the two of you, a world built from whispered secrets and lingering touches.

At first, it was all so gentle. His hand would brush against yours, fingers lingering for a heartbeat too long, an unspoken language only you both understood. His gaze held a softness you had never seen before, something that softened the edges of your bruised heart, making it flutter with a sweetness you hadn’t known you could feel again. Or at all to be honest.

But it grew, like a spark catching in dry tinder, his touch became something fierce, driven by longing that simmered just beneath the surface. Those touches turned electric, his hands finding your face, your shoulders, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine as if memorizing every inch, every hollow, and line of you. In the quiet dark, he became bolder, lips brushing over your cheek, the corner of your mouth, as if testing the waters of a dream he was afraid to shatter.

And then, one night, all pretense faded. Under the stars, he pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as if he could hold the weight of your sorrows and make them vanish. His lips found yours, soft yet sure, a kiss that spoke of all the promises he couldn’t yet give voice to. It was fierce and tender, full of longing that had been held back for too long, and you melted into him, feeling the strength of his arms, the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.

Each touch both hesitant and urgent, as though he was savoring and devouring all at once. His hands were steady on you, protective, as though you were something precious and precarious, yet there was a fierce devotion in his hold, a hint of need that spoke volumes of all he kept contained.

He drew you in, closing every inch until nothing separated you, his lips melding with yours, each press and taste a promise, a claim. His hands moved along your back with a firm reverence, grounding you, until the world faded and all that remained was the shared warmth, the silent understanding woven in the spaces between breaths.

In that instant, the world seemed to dissolve, slipping away as you became tethered only to him and the fierce, unyielding pull between you. Your fingers tightened in his shirt, clutching as though you could anchor yourself within him, merge with him, dissolve the space that still somehow lingered. Each breath, each shiver became shared, the air thick with an almost reverent desperation.

His lips left yours, and the absence was agonizing, only to be replaced by the feverish touch as he traced his way along the curve of your neck, each kiss a spark that ignited something deeper within. When he whispered your name, it was low, raw, a sound that clung to your skin like an invocation, his breath warm against you.

Together, you lost track of time, wrapped in the heat of each other, a silent vow exchanged in every shared breath, every racing heartbeat. There, in the secret dark, you were free, free to feel, to want, to imagine a life where the nights stretched on like this forever. And as you clung to each other, you realized that he had given you something your husband never could: love.

And with that resolve warming your heart, the decision became clear. You deserved happiness, a life spent with someone who looked at you with the unwavering affection that Arthur did, who saw you for everything you were, flaws and all. The promise he’d made, that quiet vow on the night of your first meeting, lingered like a light guiding your way.

In Arthur’s gaze, you found the reflection of a life you’d thought impossible, a life where love was more than a duty, where devotion was tender and free. So you held onto that promise, your heart certain at last.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #rd2 x reader #arthur morgan x you #read dead redemption 2 #mielits

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serpentface · 2 months ago

Note

a bit curious how various characters would present in a modern setting, like somewhat in the interest of contemporary gender/sexuality stuff but mostly because i want to know who would wear stupid t shirts

Ok finally answering this now that I've got two of them.

Note that this is a near-zero nuance take with very little consideration as to who these characters would Be in a modern context and how the different societal pressures would affect them. I've kind of just Removed pressures from their in-universe cultural context.

Couya: exclusively wears t-shirts and jeans. Puts zero effort in her appearance. Owns a lot of 3 wolf moon type shirts and thinks they're extremely cool. Was on T for a while and then forgot to take the doses until she didn't care anymore.

Janeys: Complete and utter prep, pastel button ups and everything, disgusting. Probably has shorter hair and keeps his face clean shaven. Might have a singular matching tattoo with Brakul hidden Somewhere

Brakul: Looks almost exactly the same but might shave his beard differently. Extensive decorative tattoos and piercings. Mostly Wears tank tops and t shirts. Noted Green Bay Packers fan.

Palo: among the more fashion conscious of these people but somehow always ends up looking like a librarian. Probably on E.

Tigran: Looks VERY different due to not being made a eunuch at 11 and not being a monk. Has the glasses he canonically needs. Definite stupid t shirt appreciator.

Faiza: has a well put together perpetually business casual look, silk shirts, knee length skirts, etc. Looks like a politician.

Hibrides: kind of has a casual goth thing going on. Shaved her head on impulse once and doesn't actually like it but sticks with it due to the monumental effort of growing it back out. Probably wears a lot of hoodies. Puts a lot of effort into her appearance but tries to make it look casual. Since the day I birthed her I knew she would be a NIN fan.

#couya haidamane #janeys haidamane #brakul red dog #palo apolynnon #tigran otto #faiza haidamane #hibrides uryashta

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blackynsupremacy · 3 days ago

Text

WHEN I THINK OF YOU

ooh, baby

anytime my world gets crazy

all i have to do to calm it

is just think of you

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

part two: a glamorous life series

read part one

summary: it’s the year 1987 and you’re an heiress of one of the most affluent african-american families in the nation. you’re still reeling from the double date with cooper, valerie, and nicholas. that night when he confronted you changed something within you. you can’t seem to get him off of your mind, so you try to occupy yourself with studying and writing new compositions to ease your wandering thoughts. that is until you’re required to attend, present, and perform at a networking gala of the elite with your parents. their immense pressure of high expectations only builds up within you and you run to a secluded garden to find some sort of peace, only for nicholas to stumble upon you in your panicked state.

contains: eighties au, songfic, luxury vibes, enemies to lovers, slow burn, mention of wet dreams, swearing, alcohol consumption, slight mutual pining, reader can be a bit toxic, character development, angst, anxiety, hurt/comfort, heart to heart between nick and reader, reader’s parents are a trip, insecurity, fluff.

taglist: @sabrinasopposite @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @stereotypicalbarbie @hnch33rios @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @camiesully @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez

a/n: likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! if you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

“ugh, damnit. that’s shit!”

you let out an aggravated groan as you’ve needed to go back to square one on this presentation. your finger repeatedly hitting the “backspace” button of your macintosh keyboard. you’ve been playing around with the new program titled “powerpoint” that had been freshly released by microsoft. your teeth sunk into your pouty, bottom lip as you were seated in the mini office you created of the luxury penthouse apartment that wasn’t far from your university. the large glass window reflected the golden hues of the sunny afternoon as the skyscrapers mingled with the clouds as a few airplanes flew overhead. a forest green fountain ink pen was being flicked back and forth between your fidgeting fingers. you frantically bounced your knees, your crossed legs clenching tighter with each of tick of the clock on the wall. there was a tingle deep within your stomach, both a mix of pain and pleasure. the pain was from the pressure of tomorrow night’s networking gala. all of the top families, including yours and valerie’s, were supposed to be in attendance. this wasn’t just any gala where you dress to the nine’s, get your photos captured, and rub elbows with the crème de la crème. this was the type of gala to get your name and/or business circulating as the future of whatever brand your parents dominated throughout the room. this included surgeons, politicians, lawyers, and corporate executives. there was going to be presentations, business proposals, and of course entertainment all demonstrated by the young, ambitious, and wealthy. you look at it more like a dog show. a bunch of hot shit loaded parents that love to compare and contrast each other’s children like they were the diamond rings or cuban imported cigars they purchased on the regular. not only did you have to present a fresh and new business proposal for l/n technological enterprises, but you also had to perform some pieces for the guests on the grand piano, all to show that you were “well-rounded”.

as the heiress of one of the few affluent african american families in your area, a lot of eyes would be on you that night, especially the scrutinizing gaze of your own father, f/n l/n, the current ceo of l/n technological enterprises. your family’s reputation held an immense value to him. you were the only child he and your mother had, so he didn’t cut corners when it came to how you were raised. he ensured you attended the top schools, learned the vocabulary of l/n enterprises, and that you took an extracurricular that gave you an air of elegance, beauty, and grace. that’s how you were introduced to the grand piano. despite the repetitive practicing of scales, chords, and arpeggios by the strictest of piano instructors, you’ve actually grown to love the instrument and performing altogether. the bottom line was that you were gonna be the face of the l/n line of business by any means necessary. you father explained that their eyes would be on you because they expected nothing, but failure from a young, black woman coming up in the corporate world. it was a fucking shame. the society as you knew it was constantly changing and there were still people who were so stuck in their ways due to the culture of over twenty years ago. you felt like that you shouldn’t have to prove your worth to those prejudiced critics, but at the same time, you want to show them that you can do what they do and do it better. regardless of race or sex.

although, you had that stinging anxiety, there was another thing bubbling in your stomach: a rush of excitement. not really towards the event itself, but towards him. the only man you could think about without recoiling in disgust. the only man that you’d ever want to give a shot in this lifetime: nicholas alexander chavez. the thoughts of him kept racing through your mind as you remember that fateful night when you two first met. let’s just say you didn’t really welcome him with open arms as he attempted to do for you. you were just so fed up from the past that you believed all of the men within your social standing were cocky, narcissistic, and materialistic bastards that insist a woman puts out on the first date, but refuses to let her finish first and still, they claim to be top of the food chain. nicholas chavez does come from a bloodline of wealthy, successful lawyers, but the more you think about it, he was an open minded down-to-earth individual that valued integrity and earned respect rather than buying it off others like a typical yuppie asshole. speaking of assholes, you were one-hundred percent in that area towards him during that evening out on the town. this man was gracious enough to give you chance after chance to redeem yourself, but you kept going with your vicious attitude and devious scheme to bring out the worst in him. you pushed that button so far that he rightfully confronted you on your brash behavior, publicly at that. after he did so, you hated him less and desired him even more once your mood turned around. after apologizing, you two had a great time for the rest of the night and you assumed that after he’d drop you off that he would keep in touch. a twinge of hurt hit your chest each day when you look at your telephone with expectancy. you were hoping that he’d search the phone book or the call the operator to reach your line but, there was no word from nicholas.

you’d given him the benefit of the doubt. perhaps he was busy with his studies, spending time with family, or hanging out with cooper or his other friends. you couldn’t blame him for not wanting to keep in touch because you were being an asshole. you were reluctant to try to seek out for him, but with the this deadline of the gala, you were swamped with even more stress. you were determined of one thing though: that the next time you’d see nicholas chavez, you were going to show him the natural good side of you that he should’ve seen the first time you’ve met. you’re not necessarily a terrible human being. you have flaws, of course, your bitterness just got the best of you that night. you were going to be cordial and collected, yet still direct and outspoken. those enchanting thoughts of nicholas haunted you throughout the week. they didn’t cease when you found yourself daydreaming, or maybe even hallucinating that he was even here in your apartment. you could be doing the most mundane tasks and hear his voice teasingly whisper your name, the ghost of his kiss lingering on your skin, or you’d envision his strikingly handsome face whenever you slept. his burly arms would snake around your waist, holding you up so close within the shield of his body as if you were to be taken from him for good. he’d never allow that to happen. when primping yourself in the mirror, your heart would instantly flutter at the thought of him telling you how beautiful looked, whether you wore makeup or not.

it went from bad to worse when after a long day of studying and shopping with valerie, you treated yourself to a candlelit bubble bath. your nude, exhausted body soaked within the white sud-filled, rose scented water. your brown eyes shut tightly and your breath hitched within your chest. you envisioned nicholas’ tall, sculpted, and nude body loom over yours from behind. his large, tanned palm would smoothly glide along the melanated skin of your bare neck, chest, and navel. the cold metal of the rings he’d possessed on some of his fingers would send goosebumps with every touch as they slid further and further until finally reaching to where you wanted—no, needed him the most. nicholas would be smart enough to tell if it’s been a long time since you’ve been intimately served properly. a smug little grin would play upon his lips when he got straight to business. before you could hear him call you a good girl for taking it all so well, your body jolted awake when you almost drowned in your bathtub due to a fucking wet dream. such a dumb way to die. fuck, fuck, fuck! nicholas’ effect on you was serious.

“i don’t know. i-it’s just when things get crazy, i can’t help, but to think about him i—ugh, it’s not fucking funny, valerie!” you frustratingly shout, chucking one of your satin pillows at your best friend. valerie was in stitches, hysterically laughing on your satin duvet after you told her about the thoughts you’ve been having about her new boyfriend’s best friend. it was now the afternoon before the gala and everything you needed to prepare and practice for was finally completed. you had a few short hours to yourself until valerie stopped by your apartment. she was there at first to inform you of the news that she and cooper koch were officially an item after they ventured out on a couple more dates. they were keeping it lowkey from the public to avoid any drama until it was the right time. as her best friend, you were happy for her! you gave her a warm embrace, signifying your congratulations. it was all happy and what-not before you switched the subject of the conversation to nicholas chavez.

“oh—but it is, haha! if him getting you together in the restaurant wasn’t funny enough, this takes the cake.” valerie squealed out. she catches and hugs the pillow against her chest and sits herself upright with her legs crossed. you huff out a breath with a perturbed look on your face before valerie continues to speak,

“i told you that you were gonna be into nicholas, but damn, girl! you’re already fantasizing about him like that?—you got it bad.”

“heh.” you scoff, shaking your head with your arms crossed, “you know what’s the most fucked up part of it, valerie?”

“dish.” she urges, her eyes not pulling away from you.

“i’ve never heard from him since the date.”

“you mean—he hasn’t called? you don’t think he’s checked the phone book?”

you shook your head.

“not even the operator?”

“nope.” you reply with a pop of your lips.

“that’s odd, y/n. i thought that after you apologized, that you two hit it off for the rest of the night.”

“that’s what i’m saying! it’s confusing as hell.”

“maybe it’s possible karma? i mean, you were a bit of a—”

“bitch, if you finish that sentence, i will throw you out quicker than flo jo.”

valerie raises her hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

“well, shit! okay—look, you just gotta be patient. you know that nicholas is a busy college student like us, right? plus, he’s just a guy, so don’t sweat it, y/n. you’ve already got enough on your plate with this gala tonight.” valerie stated, standing from her position to approach you with a comforting hand on your tense shoulder. after taking a drawn out breath, you deliberately nod and lean your head on valerie’s shoulder.

“you’re right, val. i’m just ready to get this dog show over with. you know how my father gets if i don’t meet his standard of excellence.” with a roll of your eyes, you take a step away from her. for the rest of her brief visit, you both continue to converse about the possible logistics of tonight’s event over a light snack of raspberry sorbet at the bar in your kitchen. you both bursted out in a cacophony of laughter after valerie dished out some juicy socialite gossip. there was a beat of silence and valerie took a stab at breaking the ice one final time.

“you know, y/n, a little birdie told me that the chavez family would be in attendance tonight…” she trailed off to wash out her now empty glass. you stayed silent and send her a piqued, yet irked glare.

“what the hell does the chavez family got to do with me?—that little birdie wouldn’t happen to be your precious koch boy, would it?”

“mm-mm.” she murmured with a shrug. “just make sure you look extra fine tonight, okay?”

you squint your eyes, sliding more sorbet into your mouth. her and cooper are really a match made in heaven: rich, beautiful, and meddling brats.

“you cryptic bitch. you bug me out so much, you make me want to do a line. with my luck, nicholas would avoid me like the plague.” you dryly spoke as you stood up from your seat to clean out your own glass. you and valerie share another moment of laughter and she takes her leave to get ready for the gala. when finally alone, you promptly make your way to your walk-in closet. this closet was your sanctuary that contained the finest brands of clothes, shoes, and accessories of your era. you walk a few feet in, and your eyes land on the sleek, black strapless maxi dress with a bit of a low-cut in the front. it was simple, sexy, and most of all, elegant. your mother got it specially ordered and exclusively designed for you for this night alone. despite her being an overbearing tight-ass sometimes, you’d appreciate gestures like this. plus, that woman had an eye for fashion. before performing your hygienic routine, you call up your beauty team, mack and lori, to ease the burden of hair and makeup. you don’t usually mind performing your own beauty routine regularly, but this was one of those nights when it was crucial to look and be the best. once they gave you their confirmation, you use the next few hours to pamper your body in the best of your soaps, lotions, and perfumes. from face to feet, every part of your melanin was cleaned, polished, and glowing. as if timing weren’t perfect enough, mack and lori buzzed in. you enthusiastically give them access to come up to your place and they begin to work their cosmetic magic on your natural features. during the process, you all got caught up in amicable chatter, juicy gossip, and wise-cracking.

it was nearing fifteen minutes until the event started. you were clad in the elegant black number you’ve chosen. the dress embraced every single curve and dip of your figure as it effortlessly cascaded down to the floor. your arms were adorned by a set of matching opera gloves as your neck with the eighteen-karat, silver chained, diamond tennis necklace. lori made up your face with her god-gifted hands as she went for the neutral base with a sultry smokey eye, and topping it off with a bold, ruby lip. mack had hooked your hair all the way up with a farrah fawcett type blowout, making your natural hair fluffy, wavy, light, and bouncy. with a thousand thank you’s, you paid them both handsomely for their services before you strutted into the limousine your parents sent in front of your place. when you entered the vehicle, you were somewhat relieved that they didn’t ride with you this time. the last thing you needed was your father’s perfectionistic lecture about your work/school life and your mother’s nagging about your personal life for the umpteenth time. during the quiet ride, you exchanged some friendly small talk with the driver and went over some important mental notes for this daunting task of a presentation. you were feeling that pain of anxiety within your stomach again, but it’s dissolved by the memory of nicholas’ focused eye contact when he kissed your hand the other night. that thought alone gave you a sense of relief, yet longing. what if valerie was right? if the chavez family were to be in attendance, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you bumped into nicholas. in his presence, would you be a little stammering fool? perhaps a kind, sophisticated young socialite? maybe even a raging, spoiled brat that was pissed that he didn’t even bother to call you over the past week? anywho, you’ve got bigger fish to fry when the limousine finally pulls up to the valet station of the golden-lit venue where the gala was being held. here goes something.

after the driver politely escorts you out of the vehicle, the clicking of your heels resound as your feet hit the pavement. there was no time to gaze at the shimmering golden lights of the venue. there was no time to speculate who’s who and who they’re wearing this evening. hell, there wasn’t even time to think. you needed to focus on the goal at hand: check in, find your parents, and get this shit over with. two fine dressed middle-aged women sat at the check-in table. they briefly eye your figure in awe as you approach them before they ask for your name.

“l/n. y/n l/n.” you straightforwardly uttered, your eyes darted everywhere for any glimpse of your parents. the women nod, confirming your name on the extensive guest list. you courtly nod and mutter a soft “thank you” before you hastily turned around only to clash with a tall, burly figure. you’d figured that with the combination of the impact and the height of your heels, you were surely going to fall flat on your face in front of all these people, but, oh so gracefully, both of the stranger’s arms managed to prevent the incident.

“you need to be more careful next time. i’d hate to see you get hurt.” your ears instantly perk up at the sound of his familiar voice. his arms kept you steady as you held yourself upright to make sure that you weren’t hallucinating again. the tempo of your heart rate increased when your brown eyes locked with his. nicholas’ gaze softened from concern to instant realization once he registered that it was indeed you, y/n l/n, the eccentric best friend of cooper’s new girlfriend, valerie hill. he was actually trying to locate cooper for them to be seated, but fate had other plans of having you two cross paths again. after your first encounter, you were certainly a woman he couldn’t forget about even if he tried. a pleasant grin, more like a simper curved on his pink lips causing your face to rise with the heat of embarrassment.

“long time, no see, y/n. it’s definitely a pleasure to see you again.” he greets with his large hands still grasping onto your forearms. you thanked the stars for the opera gloves or he’d be sure to feel the goosebumps rise on your skin. with a nervous chuckle, you slowly pulled out of his grip to smooth your dress out. you didn’t want to give the paparazzi, or worse, your parents the wrong idea. you promptly composed yourself.

“i guess it isn’t so bad to see you again, nicholas.” you mentioned, in a saucy manner. your stomach flipped again when you hear a chuckle escape from the male in front of you.

“some things i like about you that isn’t so bad is your consistency of your fluent sarcasm—and that you look captivating as always.” he teases all while bashfully stuffing his hands in his pockets. you thought that you were hallucinating again because there’s no way in hell that you witnessed his cheeks flutter with crimson in your presence.

“captivating, huh? if you really thought that about me, you would’ve at least tried to call, nicholas.” you argued, with crossed arms under your chest.

“y/n, i—” nicholas was promptly cut off by the sound of another male voice that held much more weight than his own calling your name. nicholas observed as your face shifted from irritated to an expression of dread as you let out a sigh of lament. nicholas could’ve sworn that you were a hell of an actress from how quickly your facial expressions changed again when you turned around to cordially greet the older man that strode in your direction. he saw him on the news, interviews, and press conferences. this man was none other than your father, f/n l/n. the muscles of your shoulders tense under his palm.

“hello, father.” you meekly utter with a nod of your head.

“come now, y/n. it’s time we find our table, your mother is waiting and there’s certainly no time for irrelevant chatter. you’ve had all day to engage in the like.” his baritone voice commanded with a monotonous, cold tone.

“yes, sir.” you complied without another word to nicholas and started to follow after your dad before his voice halted you both.

“uh, mr. l/n, sir. i hope you don’t think me rude. i’m nicholas alexander chavez, my father’s the founder of one of the top law firms in the nation. it’s nice to meet you. i, uh, happen to be a friend of your daughter’s, who i believe would excel as the future of your brand.” nicholas holds out his steady hand for which your father shakes briefly.

“likewise, mr. chavez. i look forward to connecting with you and your family in the near future, but we must get going.” your father politely urges before his grip shifts from your shoulder to your wrist to subtly haul you away from nicholas to the table reserved for your family and the close associates of the business. you sit in between your parents as dinner is about to be served. you dare not to forget the etiquette that’s been installed in you as you focus on engaging in polite, business conversation more than indulging in each course of food. great. now you were flustered, frustrated, humiliated, and hungry. while your mother was droning about the dress you were wearing, your hand reached to sip on the wine that was served. you peered down then up again to see those familiar coffee eyes that’s been haunting your fantasies all week peering back into yours as he simultaneously takes a sip from his own drink at the table adjacent to yours. nicholas was accompanied by what seemed to be his parents and about three siblings. you were still thinking about how he sort of stood up for you in front of your dad. it wasn’t as assertive as when he did it with you, but he could obviously tell that you were uncomfortable in your father’s presence. you found it to be quite noble after you were about to rip into him again.

the emcee’s finger taps the mic thrice before his voice reverberates throughout the room causing everyone to fall silent. he announces the program order that’s listed on the bulletin. fuck, you didn’t even get a glimpse of it. out of the corner of your eye, you see that you’re the very last to present and perform. it was utter bullshit, but it bought you some time to mentally compose yourself—or freak out. the first presenter was the son of a politician and his views on what the environment could look like in thirty years if certain things didn’t change. as he went into his ten-point plan, you gazed over to nicholas who appeared to be interested in what the yuppie had to say. taking this opportunity to ogle him, he was fitted in a two-piece black giorgio armani suit and tie. you’d know that suit from anywhere because you got the same one for your father on his birthday. nicholas looked very handsome and lawyer-ish. you even notice the outline of his jacked build underneath the layers. his chocolate tresses fell naturally upon his head , giving you the urge to know what it feels like when ruffled, pushed back,—or pulled on. your crossed thighs instinctively clenched and you chided yourself for having those thoughts of him again. it doesn’t help that he’s in the same room and sitting a couple feet away.

throughout the next few presentations, your focus is shifting all over the damn place. from the presenter, to nicholas, and to your own mental notes. that pit within your stomach would hurt then dissolve within seconds, it was making you a bit lightheaded and you needed some air. only three more people were presenting before you, so you leaned over to your mother and whispered that you had to be excused to the restroom. she gives you a quick once over to say “hurry up!” and you do so without question. you weren’t really going to the bathroom though, what a lot of people didn’t know was that this venue had a staircase that led to a secluded garden. this was your sacred little spot for the last two galas you’ve attended. fortunately it’s in the same direction of the restrooms, but instead of making a right, you keep journeying all the way down the golden corridors until you see the concrete staircase surrounded by the white marble railing. your hands grasp onto your dress, so you won’t fall as you descend onto each step to find the streaming stone fountain. you let out a breath that you’ve been holding and take your seat on the edge. all of the muscles within your body loosen at the sound of the bubbling waterfall, the sight of the pale moonlit sky, and the sweet scents of the array of flora and fauna fill your senses. your dark, watery eyes peer down at your own weary reflection that was then joined by the concerned reflection of none other than nicholas chavez. you could’ve sworn you were hallucinating again, but once your head turned to debunk your theory, you hastily stood up with a frightened yet angry expression etched on your face. why is he always in every corner of your life? sometimes you wish you’d never cross paths with nicholas chavez, but why were you a bit relieved at his presence?

“nicholas? what the in hell—what are you doing here? did you follow me? i swear to god if you told my father—” you accused, your voice raising a bit before he cut you off by placing one of his hands on your shoulder and a finger against your lip, so that you wouldn’t draw attention.

“shh, shh. when you keep your voice down, i’ll be happy to explain everything, so unless you want someone to find us, you’d do as i say. are we clear, y/n?” he whispered with a hint of urgency, but you could still hear that dominating tone from your last encounter. just like he put you under a spell, you deliberately nodded and he took his finger from your lip along with his hand away from your shoulder. god, how you already missed his touch. there was beat of silence before he softly spoke again,

“i happened to look over to your table to just—see if you were alright after what happened with your old man. i’ve actually looked over there a couple times, but i saw you leave, so i told my dad that i had to use the restroom and that’s when i saw you leave down the hall, down the stairs, and here we are in this garden.” nicholas concluded as his eyes took a brief perusal of the place.

“it looked like you wanted to get away.” he confirmed as you watched him saunter past you to sit beside your empty space on the fountain’s edge. he loosened his tie at the top before leaning over to rest his elbows upon his knees.

“yeah—i did.” you try your best to not let yourself crack under pressure in front of him.

“if you’re comfortable enough, would you want to sit, so you could talk it out?” his questioned with such a soft, coaxing voice. it was like you were under a spell again and his sincere, tawny gaze didn’t pull away as he watched you slowly roam towards the edge and sit in your previous position beside him. no one else besides valerie had really given you the chance to speak out about the true feelings you’ve been bottling up and so you did. nicholas attentively listened as you spoke about how frightened you were of failing the empire that your family worked so hard for. you were grateful for all the luxuries provided, but it was the pressure to be this perfect daughter that was getting to your head, you felt like you were going crazy.

“i’m not even sure that i’m cut out to be the next ceo, nicholas. let alone do this goddamn presentation because everyone is expecting me to royally fuck up. i—huh?” your word vomit ceased when a pillow soft handkerchief touched your skin. with a light hand, nicholas gingerly dabbed away the tears that fell on your face. you sniffled and whispered a soft praise of gratitude for the gesture. nicholas plants the cloth within your hands before concealing them with his own.

“hey, look at me.”

you did as you were told, it was now your turn to do the listening.

“remember what i said to your father earlier? that wasn’t just to ease the tension. i meant what i said about you back there.”

you just sat there stunned as you stared at the man before you while your brain registered his statement. the skin of your cheeks heated when you see that reassuring simper on his face.

“so now you know that it’s not everyone who’s expecting you to fail. you’ve been raised in this life, so who the hell can tell you that weren’t cut out for this? they’re only putting pressure on something they know will come out with greatness and greatness is in your blood, so fuck ‘em!” he exclaims, a beaming smile grows on his face when you erupted in giggles.

“it’s good to hear you laugh.” nicholas stated, he peers at you with sincerity and his hand lightly brushed a piece of your hair from your face.

“did i say that you looked beautiful tonight?” he teased with that smug face.

“hey! don’t try to get fresh, chavez.” you playfully retort, thanking him anyway before your chuckles fill the air again. the wings of your heart rapidly flutter, but they’re instantly clipped during mid-flight. it made you feel so damn guilty that nicholas took time away from his family, hell from networking to go and find you moping in a garden. you had to let him know this one thing before you two depart from each other,

“nicholas, i apologize.” you confessed. your eyes were still damp as they locked with his baffled, furrowed face.

“i’m not following, y/n. what are you apologizing for?”

“i’m sorry for being such a horrible person towards you. nicholas, all you’ve ever done is be a gentleman to me. hell, you even tried to make me seem like i’m worth a damn to my father…” you trail off, to look up into the sky not letting a single teardrop fall again. you were sure that the handkerchief you received was pure egyptian cotton and you didn’t want to ruin it any further.

“heh…and all i did was give you shit about not calling me. it’s so petty.” you dryly scoff at yourself and shake your head.

right, it stung him a bit in the gut once you’ve mentioned it. he was going to make sure tonight that you got an honest explanation on why that didn’t occur,

“y/n, the reason i—”

you interrupted him by standing up hastily. you realized that so much time had passed and that it was getting close to announce your presentation. fuck! you wanted to hear what nicholas had to say.

“nicholas! i gotta go. my presentation will start soon.”

“shit! right. i’ll let you go in first and i’ll come in a little bit afterwards.” he affirmed and stood up after you.

before you take a another step up the staircase, you look down at the ivory cloth in your hand. fortunately, you brought your gucci black clutch outside with you. you reach a gloved hand inside to retrieve your trusty, green fountain pen. nicholas stood there confused as to why you hadn’t made haste towards the venue. you were quickly writing something on the cloth. once you’ve stamped it with the red marked kiss of your lipstick, you scurried to him and placed the folded handkerchief within his palms.

“you’re gonna need this more than i do, you big softie. thank you for everything.” you utter one last time before you quickly venture up the stairs with a new air of confidence for when you give your all during your presentation. you were going to show those motherfucking critics what you and your family were capable of. all thanks to the thought of him.

nicholas’ gaze lingered on your figure as you disappeared up the stairs and into the hallway. as he waited to appropriately arrive back to the gala, he peered down at the folded cloth. his fingers gingerly unravel it to reveal the graceful and precise calligraphy of your phone number. his heart raced within his chest when he caught a glimpse of your lovely stamp. his thumb glided along the ruby mark of a truce where your lips touched. oh, if he could feel your lips on his just this once, but he knew that with you, this thing between you had to simmer or you’d both would horribly burn. anywho, the first step was to definitely call you afterwards to give his congratulations, an explanation, and possibly more, whenever you’re ready.

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 5 months ago

Text

Sanji being kidnapped by your father and the two of you falling in love would involve…

Sanji x reader

*****

🩵 Imagine being the daughter of a feared criminal; most of the world knows him as an important businessman, but that is actually only a facade covering a vast criminal empire, whose activities range from extortion to kidnapping, theft and racketing. The list of murders he has ordered is endless, and he has never shied away from killing people who had betrayed or posed a threat to his business himself. Few are those who can hear his name without shuddering with fear, but the general public only knows him as a wealthy, driven but otherwise innocuous entrepreneur, at the head of an important company.

🩵 You are his only child, who he loves dearly and tries with all his might to keep in the dark regarding his criminal activities, knowing you would be horrified. Because of this, you have grown up somewhat sheltered, unaware of your father’s criminal activities and convinced he is simply an important and powerful businessman, respected -and not feared- by partners and employees. He has also made sure all his subordinates and the people you come into contact with keep up the ruse; you are tutored at home instead of attending a normal school, only go on holiday accompanied by him or his bodyguards, and your friends, mainly children of your father’s associates, are likewise vetted to make sure they don’t reveal the truth.

🩵 Unaware of the world of lies he has constructed around you, you adore your father, spend as much time as you can with him and trust him completely. Something you share is an appreciation for good food: the two of you enjoy visiting the most refined restaurants and trying food from different cultures. You also have a private chef at home, the last of a long series, since your father is very picky; he once had a cook beaten to a pulp because he had forgotten to salt the water when preparing pasta for the two of you.

🩵 One day, during what you believe is a brief holiday but that is actually a business trip that your father took advantage of to meet the head of another criminal organisation and make plans for the assassination of a few politicians who opposed their activities, you visit the Baratie, and are both impressed with the quality and taste of Zeff’s food. You are particularly enthusiastic, eating your fill and expressing your appreciation for each and every dish; your father, who never misses an opportunity to make you happy, immediately sends for the chef and asks him to come work -and cook- for you. Zeff thanks him for the offer but refuses, preferring his restaurant to a role as a private chef. Your father is highly displeased, but can’t insist too much, given the fact you are present, listening to their conversation; nonetheless, he plans on sending his most capable henchmen to force the chef to reconsider, and then have you informed Zeff had changed his mind.

🩵 He has no time to implement his plan since, having requested a background check on Zeff to make sure he is actually suited to work for your family, your father discovers the man had an adopted son, who also worked at the restaurant and was known to be an excellent cook; Sanji, a young man who is now part of a pirate crew. A man your age would probably be better suited, your father reasons, since he’d know what sort of food is more appropriate for and appreciated by a girl your age, and he’d probably also be easier to keep in line than a powerful former pirate captain like Zeff. Without wasting any time, your father has Luffy’s crew located, and a team sent to kidnap the chef. When they find him, on the latest island the Merry has docked on, Sanji is at the town market, gathering supplies; he is unfortunately alone, as he prefers to be when choosing the best foods and ingredients for his crew, which means no one notices when your father’s men attract him in a back-alley with an excuse and jump on him. Sanji valiantly defends himself, but he is vastly outnumbered and in the end the men force him at gunpoint to follow them; he has no way to let his friends know what happened to him, or even just to inform them he is in danger.

🩵 Sanji is brought to the huge kitchen of your family villa, where your father is waiting for him, having made sure you’re away; he orders Sanji to cook a few of your favourite dishes, which he does, furious at having been kidnapped but forced despite himself to do his best as always. The result is good enough to satisfy your father, who then informs Sanji he is hired for the job he never applied for, and has no way to refuse. “Your main task is to cook for my daughter; whatever she asks for, whatever she wants, you will prepare it, even if it’s a fifty people banquet on an hour’s notice or a snack at three in the morning; buy the best ingredients, the best tools, hire assistants if you need to; I don’t care about the money. Make sure she’s satisfied, and that her health is not badly affected; this is the only thing that has to matter to you.”

🩵 At first, Sanji refuses; he doesn’t need to know your father’s name to realise he must be a criminal, a man used to get whatever he wants through force and intimidation, and in any case he is not interested in any job that is not cooking for Luffy and the crew. He orders your father to release him, and even violently hits him with a kick in the stomach; as a result, he is locked in a cell, kept there for four days without food, and beaten mercilessly. In the end, starving and bleeding, Sanji decides to obey and bide his time, waiting for an opportunity to escape or contact his friends; he already hates his job, and while his pride as a chef forces him to cook at the best of his abilities and make sure his employers are well fed, he prays he will soon find a way to regain his freedom.

🩵 And then he is introduced to you, and everything changes - even if Sanji doesn’t immediately realise. “You are our new chef? It’s a pleasure to meet you. You can call me (name), I hope you’ll like working here, and I can’t wait to taste what you’ll prepare for us. Is the kitchen of your liking? My father is very picky, so if I can offer a suggestion, make sure you always salt the water for the pasta! He once dismissed a chef without references for that. Do you like the room you’ll be staying in? If you need anything please let me know.”

🩵 Sanji can’t believe it. How can a kind, friendly and unpretentious -not to mention very pretty- girl like you be the daughter of a violent and cruel man like your father? At first he treats you coldly, convinced it’s just a mask, and you’re feigning courtesy and cordiality even though inwardly you are as bad as he is if not worse, but he soon realises the truth couldn’t be more different: you really are genuinely courteous and friendly, and more importantly, you have no idea who your father actually is, and what he does. “Miss (name) knows nothing about her father’s activities; he has always made sure to keep her in the dark.” the housekeeper tells him “The master must have forgotten to tell you, since he hasn’t hired anyone new in a while, but this is very important: you mustn’t tell her, if you don’t want to be killed.”

🩵 And so Sanji’s new life begins. From a professional point of view he has nothing to complain: he can use the best ingredients, his kitchen is every shef’s dream and his employers are invariably satisfied with the dishes he presents them; he sleeps in a comfortable room, and even the pay -because he is paid, unlike what he expected- is more than acceptable. On the other hand, he is virtually a prisoner in the house: your father’s men keep an eye on him constantly, make sure he cannot ask for help, either writing a message or calling with a Den Den Mushi, and escort him when he goes to the market or to the shops. Only a few days after his hiring, while you are out of the house with friends, your father has the whole staff gathered to witness the execution of one of his men, guilty of having written a letter to the local head of police asking for help against him; the man is shot in front of everyone’s eyes. “This is what happens to those who betray me.” your father states calmly “You do your job, obey, and you’ll be safe; but I want all of you to remember how you’ll be repaid if you prove disloyal.”

🩵 Your father is a monster, an unmerciful tyrant who kills people without a second thought and commits crimes of the worst kind; and you, his only daughter, have not the faintest idea. It’s not like you are stupid, or even particularly naive: rather, you are an intelligent young woman, surprisingly humble and unspoiled for someone who has grown up in cotton wool, with money and power enough to satisfy any whim, but while you have received a good education and enjoyed many privileges, you have always lived a sheltered life, detached from the world outside. Your father has carefully surrounded you with people on his payroll or that he can control, and has bodyguards accompany you everywhere, keeping away anyone who could even just suggest the truth is different from what you have been led to believe. You don’t really question it, since this withdrawn existence is everything you have ever known; sometimes you do wish you could have gone to school like most children, or travel alone, but you are sure your father only has your safety at heart, and chose to have you educated at home to hire the best tutors in the country. Yes, sometimes you feel like he vets people your age before you have the chance of making friends with them and it’s strange sometimes his employees look nothing less than terrified while in his presence, as if they had something worse to fear than being reprimanded or fired, but he’s your father, and an important man: it’s normal he wants to make sure you don’t associate with unsavoury people, and expects the best from those who work for him.

🩵 You love him, and trust him completely; he’s your family, your role model, the person you care about the most in the world. Sanji sees it, and also sees how protective and affectionate your father is towards you, not only buying things for you and paying for holidays and other treats, but sincerely making sure you’re happy and well looked after; he treats you gently, spends with you as much time as he can, and welcomes as a priceless gift every care you have for him, even just a cup of tea brought to his study or a small surprise party organised for his birthday. When you are with him, your father is a different man, and Sanji can’t blame him for wanting to keep you in the dark regarding his activities; you would be undoubtedly horrified, because you… you are different, and he likes you more with every passing day.

🩵 At first he keeps his distance, since he has no idea of what sorts of person you really are and can only imagine what would happen if your father saw him flirt with you like he’s used to doing with girls; he does his job keeping his head low and waits for a chance to escape. Soon enough, he starts growing fond of you; he likes how kind you are towards the other members of the house staff and your father’s employees you come into contact with, sometimes even warning them of any mistake that would lead them to incur his wrath; the fact that he’s the only person your age in the house also helps. Unlike your father, who sometimes wakes him up in the middle of the night requesting a snack he could simply take from the fridge or forgets to warn him he’s going to host a dinner for ten of his associates, your requests food-wise are never outrageous; you enjoy most of what he prepares, and never fail to thank and compliment him. Once he finds out you dislike one of his dishes, one he has prepared many times already for your father; he asks you why you never told him, since he could have simply prepared something else for you. “Well, I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” you admit, blushing a bit, perhaps out of embarrassment or because of the attractive young man in front of you, who is looking at you with those lovely brown eyes “I know it took you hours to prepare that dish, and it wouldn’t have been fair to ask you for something else, since it’s only two of us. Anything you prepare is delicious; it’s not like I was forced to eat something I actively disliked.”

🩵 Sanji can’t help appreciating how considerate you are, which in turn leads him to make an even greater effort to please you and prepare your favourite dishes; he tells himself it’s only because of his pride as a chef, because cooking -and cooking well- is what he does and not because he cares about you and wants to make you happy, but less than a month after meeting you he already knows in his heart the truth is different.

🩵 One night he notices you have barely touched your food, even though you insist it was well-cooked as usual and you are simply not hungry; your father is not at home that night, and Sanji can’t help noticing you seem sad as you stare wistfully out of the window, unenthusiastically picking at your food, a tell-tale redness at your eyes. Sanji is immediately worried: have you discovered your father’s secret? Did the two of you have a fight? Did he -unlikely, but you never know- hurt you in some way? The matter doesn’t concern Sanji, not to mention he doubts you’ll want to confide in his since he’s just an employee that you have only known for a few weeks, but he can’t help it; he prepares your favourite dessert, waits for the housekeeper to have retired to her room, and then goes to knock to your door.

🩵 “I’d like to be left alone tonight, please.” you murmur from the inside, your voice breaking as if you had started crying again. Sanji clears his voice and “Miss (last name), this is Sanji. I have brought you a dessert.”

🩵 A moment later you have opened the door, vaguely diffident. “I already had dessert tonight; you served me crème brulée less than an hour ago.” “I did, but… well, I saw you seemed unhappy tonight, so I prepared your favourite.” Sanji explains, holding the dish in front of him as an offering. He’s already regretting his idea, fearing you will tell your father he has bothered you, but suddenly a tiny smile appears on your face. “Wow, that’s… so kind of you, Sanji. Please come in; you want something to drink?” And so, a minute later you’re both sitting at your desk, you busy enjoying your dessert and him sipping a glass of wine you have poured from your mini-fridge. You share a smile, both aware of how anomalous, not to mention potentially inappropriate, his presence in your room this late at night is, and you tacitly decide to ignore the matter. You freely share the reason for your sadness: one of your dearest friends, who you have known since infancy on account of your fathers working together, has suddenly broken all ties with you, without even explaining why. “I can’t understand; we were as close as siblings, I loved and trusted them more than anyone else besides my father… Their father died last week, and I tried to support them, but they told me I was a naive idiot and they couldn’t wait for me to see the truth. I honestly have no idea what they meant! And now they swore they never want to see me again… I miss them already, but what really hurts me is that I don’t understand what I did wrong…”

🩵 Sanji easily perceives the truth: your father had your friend’s, his associate, killed for some reason, maybe a suspected betrayal, and they blame you, if only by association. Seeing you so sad, partially comforted by the delicious dessert you are eating but still frustrated and lonely for the old friend you have lost without knowing why, breaks his heart. You don’t have many friends, you admit, and are well aware that many of the people you know only pay attention to you on request of your father, because he knows their parents and employers, or because they hope to benefit from the money and luxuries he grants you. “You must feel very lonely; I’m sorry, (name).” Sanju murmurs, using your first name without realising; he is all too aware of how your knees are touching under the desk “You deserve to be surrounded by people who appreciate you for what you are, because believe me, anyone would be fortunate to be your friend.” He fears you might think he’s only telling you what you need to hear, since you still know each other so little, but you smile at him, shy and grateful, as if you could perceive how sincere he’s being. “Thank you, Sanji; the truth is, this has already happened more than once. People I cared for -friends, members of our staff, employees of my father I had been acquainted with for years… they simply leave without a word, or disappear in thin air as if they had never been there. Now, I know it’s normal for a person to change jobs and even the best friends can grow distant, but…” “But?” he invites you to go on. “... but sometimes I feel as if there was something weird about it; as if those people hadn’t simply left… they were gone. And my father had something to do with it.”

🩵 You force a smile, as if to apologise for the absurdity of that idea; no matter how suddenly tense he is, Sanji can’t help noticing how enticing your mouth looks at that moment, the teeth biting into it emphasising the plushness of your bottom lip, your tongue darting out for a moment to clean a minuscule spot of cream left from the last bite of your treat. “I know it’s absurd; I feel guilty just talking about it, but… most of the people I know, friends and otherwise, I have met them through my father, and he’s a good and kind man, but he’s so protective of me, and sometimes I feel like… well, that he’d be capable of pushing away, or even firing, people he doesn’t approve I make friends with. I know, I sound like an idiot, and ungrateful, given everything he does for me; you can laugh if you want.” But Sanji has no intention of laughing; quite the opposite. He can see how close you are to realising the truth, to understanding your father is responsible for the disappearance of your friends and other people you have lost contact with - even though he did much more than dismissing them or ordering them to stay away from you. No matter how much you love him, and he you, you are no longer a child and you deserve to know the truth about the man you live with and are so devoted to; for a moment Sanji is about to tell you, fuck the consequences, but then something -perhaps the fact that he still knows you so little, or that it is not up to him; or simply that, maybe, he’s afraid of how you could react- stops the words in his throat. “I can’t speak for your father; what I know for sure is that even if he only has your best interest at heart, he has no right to make choices that should be yours, and you deserve to know the truth.” he softly murmurs in the end; for a moment he regrets those words, fearing you could decide to confront your father with dramatic and even potentially dangerous consequences, but then you smile at him, comforted and relieved, and he can’t think about anything that is not the beauty of your face and how your naked knee has been pressing against his for the last five minutes.

🩵 You change the subject, spending a bit of time talking about your lives and your dreams; in the end, it’s time for him to go, since your father will be home soon. You walk him to the door, and “Thank you, Sanji.” you murmur, meaning those few words more than any declaration you have ever uttered; you felt so lonely until an hour before, and now you feel much better, thanks to a delicious dessert and more importantly to the young man who served it to you, out of pure, selfless worry for your well-being “I know you’re already so busy in the kitchen, so… I really appreciate you coming; I often feel lonely, but tonight in particular I didn’t want to be alone.” “I’m glad I did it. I’m sorry if you feel alone, and… well, if you need to talk, or you have nothing else to do, you know where to find me.” That is a promise Sanji knows he shouldn’t make, because no matter how fond he has grown of you, he’s still waiting for his occasion to escape and leave without looking back - which will mean you will lose another person you care for. He doesn’t want to pain you, and you don’t deserve it; but when you smile at him, your face filled with the childlike and almost painful joy of having found a new friend, Sanji knows he has done the right thing, no matter how much you both may come to regret it in the future.

🩵 From that night, a quiet friendship develops between the two of you. On the nights he sees you sad or pensive for some reason, or he simply wants to surprise you, Sanji brings a treat to your room, careful not to be seen by anyone, and you spend some time talking; in turn, you begin visiting him in the kitchen, to observe him as he works and even help with the dishes after a meal. You bring him little gifts, not necessarily costly but that he appreciates because he perceives the thoughtfulness behind the purchase: a tie in a colour you thought would look good on him, a cooking book he had mentioned he wanted to read, a new apron with his name embroidered. Slowly, quietly, you become important to each other. You appreciate the fact that unlike most people in your life Sanji does nothing to endear himself to your father -rather, he seems to dislike him a lot, even though in your presence he makes an effort to hide it; who knows why he accepted your father’s job offer, you wonder, since Sanji loathes him so much?- and that he is sincerely interested in what you have to say; in turn, Sanji can’t help appreciating your kindness and quiet intelligence, that few in your life value as they should, and thinking that you’d deserve more than living a lie, chained to a father who does not deserve you.

🩵 You are also very aware of how attractive you find each other, even though you both hesitate to make your feelings known. You fear the potential inappropriateness of a relationship, given the fact that after all you are the daughter of Sanji’s employer -you would never ask your father to fire him if you were to fight or break up, but still- and the possibility of losing what is already a precious friendship. Sanji, on the other hand, is more and more anxious with every passing day, hating himself for his inability to tell you what sort of man your father actually is; he is lying to you, though simply avoiding telling you the truth, which he knows is unacceptable both for a friend and a romantic partner, and he feels unworthy of your affection… no matter how often he fantasises about holding you in his arms and kissing you until you both forget how to breathe. What’s more, he still plans on leaving, as soon as he can; Sanji has started planning his escape since day one, keeping note of the least guarded exits of the villa and the possibility to steal a vehicle to reach the harbour, and already feels guilty at the thought that he will have to abandon you, like so many people already have. The last thing he wants to do is break your heart, making you believe he never cared for you; all things considered he should have never formed a relationship with you, not even a purely platonic one, given the fact he didn’t plan on staying and he could never give what you needed and deserved, but he couldn’t help it! You’re so lovely, so pretty and kind and devout to the people you love; how could he not become fond of you?

🩵 He is, if not confident, at least hopeful he can keep his feelings for you under control until one morning you join him in the kitchen, and ask him for cooking lessons. “I can’t do anything; not even boil an egg or cook pasta.” you admit, only partially embarrassed, because you know Sanji will not mock you, not even if you admitted you cannot even tell a fork and a knife apart “And I’d like at least to learn the basics, since it may come in useful one day when I have my own family to cook for, or maybe I could prepare something for my father to surprise him. Could you help me, Sanji? It’d be our secret, and I know you’re already so busy, but I’ll pay you…”

🩵 He immediately tells you he could never accept to be paid, and that he’ll be happy to help. From that night on, you start meeting in the kitchen at night after dinner or in moments of the day where the two of you are alone at home. Sanji is a capable teacher, patient and understanding since he appreciates your desire to learn, and you are determined not to waste his time. You start from the very basics, and as he teaches you the right time to wait to boil an egg -five minutes if you prefer a runny yolk, eight if you want to make hard-boiled egg, never go above twelve- or to calculate how much salt to put in for the pasta depending on the quantity of water, you feel happier, more active, than you remember ever being; you usually enjoy studying and your tutors are more than satisfied with your results, but this is different… not theoretical notions of history or mathematics you could never find an use for, but a practical ability that you could employ in your everyday life, either to surprise the people you love or to avoid giving yourself food poisoning. It’s nothing grandiose, only a fish soup or a plate of vegetable spaghetti, you still require Sanji’s constant supervision and make so many beginner’s mistakes, but you’re having fun, and you feel well… and all of it is due to the blonde young man next to you; you know a relationship between the two of you would probably be complicated, given the fact he works for your family, and you’re not even fully sure he has feelings for you, but in the privacy of your heart you’ve come to hope Sanji will remain part of your life, that he will not leave like so many have in the past… and that he will never lie to you.

🩵 After three months of regular classes, you decide to prepare your father’s favourite dish to serve to him as he returns from a business trip; you’re more than a little nervous, wanting to prepare it by yourself but fearing the dish is still too advanced for what you have learnt, but Sanji has faith in your abilities, and promises to warn you if you make some grave mistake. In the end, the dish turns out perfectly; Sanji is proud of you, and your heart is full of joy and gratitude for all his help. As you celebrate together, you hug him tight, and you’re about to tell him how happy you are that he is now part of your life, but a moment later, on impulse, you decide you better show him, and press your lips on his. Sanji immediately kisses you back, his chest pressed against yours as his hands hold you by the waist; it’s lovely, sweet and intimate, and like most good things it ends before you want it to, with the house door slamming and your father’s voice announcing he is back. “I better go.” you murmur sadly, loathe to end that moment of intimacy now that you have discovered how soft Sanji’s hair is as you caress it, how pleasant the feeling of his body against yours “I… I’ll see you later, alright? And… thank you, Sanji; you made me happier than I’ve ever been.” He smiles, but there is sadness in his eyes as he does, and as he lets his hands fall from your hips. “Believe me, (name); you have nothing to thank me for.”

🩵 Later that night, Sanji has just finished cleaning the kitchen and is about to return to his room when your father enters, followed by two of his bodyguards. “You have been giving (name) cooking lessons.” he states; it’s not a question, so Sanji doesn’t answer, simply standing in front of the older man; part of him fears your father knows about the kiss, since someone might have seen you as the two of you were too focused on each other to notice, but a moment later he decides he doesn’t care, since he has nothing to be ashamed of. “She told me tonight, since she didn’t want to take all the credit for the dish she had prepared for me, but I knew already; if you had hoped to keep it secret, you never could. There is nothing that happens in this house without me knowing.” Again, Sanji remains silent, and your father looks at him, a merciless look in his eyes. “I don’t mind if you teach her to cook, since it makes her happy, but I want you to know one thing; if you think about taking advantage of those moments alone to… touch my daughter, or even flirt with her, you better change your mind now. She is not for you; she deserves better than a simple cook and former pirate, and in any case she’s still too young for a relationship. You only touch her with a finger and you’re a dead man. I’m not kidding; if you think the lashing and starving you experienced when you first came here were painful, you have no idea what I’m capable of doing if you hurt my (name).”

🩵 Again, no answer. “Well? You have nothing to say in your defence?” your father asks, curious despite himself, and finally Sanji speaks. “Do you know why (name) wanted to learn to cook?” he asks “To surprise you… and because she thought it could come in handy once she has a family of her own. Your daughter is not a child; you may have done everything you could to keep her prisoner in this house, surrounded by people you trust and have chosen, but you can’t keep her from thinking with her own head. Don’t you think one day she might fall in love, desire to get married, and have a home of her own? Will you force her to live here with her spouse? Will you choose her partner for her?” Your father doesn’t answer, for once in his life taken aback; the truth that Sanji cannot know but easily perceive, is that he has already compiled a list of potential spouses for you, children of his associates or people he trusts, to casually introduce to you and have them ask you out. The last thing he wants is for you to get a crush on someone undeserving, someone he can’t trust and who would take you away from him… someone like that young blond cook who is now looking at him, rage burning in his eyes “I’m right, aren’t I? Don’t you see how everything you do hurts (name)? She is an adult, she doesn’t need to be protected! All you have done is lie to her about the sort of man you are, surround her with people who don’t really care for her instead of friends she has chosen, and stop her from learning to take care of herself! You know what the truth is? That your daughter is a lovely person, good, kind, always ready to help others, and you can’t help keeping her in the dark regarding your activities, because you know she’d be horrified about all the atrocities you have committed! You know she’d hate you, because you are a monster who doesn’t deserve her love and sure as hell you don’t deserve her!”

🩵 Sanji knows perfectly he will pay dearly for his lack of respect, and he does: your father, livid with rage at the young man, his prisoner, who has spoken to him like no one has ever dared to do and forced him to confront his sins and admit in his heart how deeply he might have ruined his relationship with you, orders his bodyguards to punish him, which they do. Once again, Sanji fights back bravely, alone against five armed opponents, and in the end is beaten to a pulp. Your father seriously considers having him killed, since the young chef is clearly trouble, and telling you he decided to resign, but you were so enthusiastic about your cooking lessons, and he doesn’t want you to have to renounce them. Furious, and scared for the first time he might seriously be unable to protect -this is the verb he uses in his mind- you from the truth, the man warns Sanji that he’ll kill him with his bare hands if he tells you anything and leaves.

🩵 The next morning you’re horrified when, coming into the kitchen to greet Sanji and ask if he needs help with breakfast, you see his bruised face, and the cautious way he walks, as if he had a broken rib or was hurting in some other way. “What on earth happened to you?!” you scream, brushing your fingers against his cheek, your heart immediately filling with pain “Did someone jump on you? Sanji, you need to tell my father, he can protect you…”

🩵 Sanji looks at you; he has known you for six months, but suddenly he feels as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “Are you sure you want to know?” he asks in a murmur, wincing at the pain shooting through his body at every breath; you blink. “Why, yes, of course, if you want to tell me…” “I’m not talking about what happened to me; well, that as well, but the whole story is much bigger than that, and concerns you more than me. Is there a way we can talk without your father or his men knowing?” He is so serious, so tense and openly worried -not for himself, perhaps- that Sanji is starting to scare you, but you keep your questions to yourself, and admit there is a corner of the villa that everyone else has all but forgotten about: a tiny shed at the back of the garden, empty except for a few tools and bags of soil no one has touched in years. As a young girl -and also, err, until six months ago- you used to go there and hide to eat sweets you had stolen from the kitchen without your father knowing; you know for sure no one else has set foot there in years. Sanji asks you to meet him at the shed that night, making sure no one sees you, and also to ensure your father doesn’t suspect you’re worried about something; you promise, and then leave, your heart heavy with fears you can’t even give a name to.

🩵 Soon after midnight that night, both you and Sanji are at the shed, having eluded the guards who patrol the estate; security has always been your father’s top priority, even though you privately think he exaggerates a bit: he keeps a large sum of money in his personal safe and you do own a few precious objects, paintings and jewels he has gifted you, but after all he is just a businessman, why does he feel the need to protect himself as if a whole army could try and invade you? Who in the world could want to hurt a good man like him?

🩵 “So? What do you have to tell me that is so important we had to meet in secret?” you ask Sanji; you have allowed yourself to hope he had asked you to come there to spend a little time alone, doing what you had started in the kitchen that night, but the expression of the man in front of you immediately dispels those romantic musings. Sanji looks scared, tense… and guilty, as if he were about to confess some grave sin he has committed; and he does, having taken your hands in his. “Before telling you the truth, I want you to know I have never wanted to hurt you; in these six months I have grown to care deeply for you, and you deserve to know what is really going on here. I should have told you months ago, as soon as I realised you knew nothing; I was afraid to do it, afraid to make you cry, and please believe me when I say I am really sorry for it.” Dumbfounded, you listen as he spills it, revealing the truth everyone you have ever known has accurately kept from you: that your father is a criminal, the head of a powerful and dangerous organisation involved in shady business of all sorts, who has threatened, tortured and killed countless people. Most of the people who you were told had suddenly resigned or decided to move away have actually been murdered, because your father couldn’t trust them to keep his secrets or were simply an obstacle for his business; some of them he has killed personally. The authorities and the police know, even though they have never been able to incriminate him, or have been bribed to look the other way.

🩵 In short, everybody knows… everybody except you, his daughter. “As far as I understood, he has always made sure to keep you in the dark; he has surrounded you with people he trusts to keep his secret, didn’t let you go to school, always has his men accompany you wherever you go… and probably has spread the word that anyone who made you aware of the truth would pay with their life.” Sanji explains; you’re sitting on a pair of old garden chairs, your hands in his, a chaste but sweet intimacy you are at the moment unable to appreciate “I know it’s a shock; but your father… I do believe he loves you very much, and would never hurt you, but he is not the man you think he is; he has lied to you your whole life, even choosing your friends for you and making sure you remained under his influence, to stop you from thinking for yourself and realise you are a prisoner in your own life. I’m sorry I’m upsetting you; but I know you deserve to know the truth.”

🩵 Sanji looks at you, afraid you’re going to faint or to start screaming any moment, but you don’t; dumbfounded, you remain on your chair as you feel all your life, everything you thought true and safe, your whole world, crumbling around you. Your father, the kind, patient man who taught you to ride a bike and knelt to check there were no monsters under your bed, is a criminal - no, he is a murdererer, a man who resorted to violence to reach his goals and kept you completely in the dark, forcing you in a bubble where nothing is what it seems and all the people you came in contact with were actors playing a part. Everything you own - everything he has given you, from your education to the clothes on your back, is the results of those crimes; everyone you ever cared for, and who appeared to care for you, had been chosen, paid, or even threatened by him, in order to surround you with people he trusted would keep up his ruse. You feel as if your life until now had been a dream, from which you’re finally waking up… to discover reality is a thousand times worse than you could have ever imagined.

🩵 What will you do from now on?, you wonder. Even Sanji admits your father, for all the crimes he committed and the cruelty he treated so many people with, loves you deeply and has never wanted to hurt you, but you only need to reflect for a moment to know you can’t remain with him, going on as if you never knew the truth; you don’t even know how you’ll be able to look at him in the face from now on, and the last thing you want is to keep eating the food, living in the house and enjoying all the comforts his criminal activities have paid for. But what else can you do, given the fact that you own nothing that your father hasn’t given to you? You are not afraid to work hard and you could find a job to support yourself, but disgust, shame, and fear for the future make you feel as if you could suffocate. You need to act, you think, to stop your father and find a way to make up for his crimes; you did nothing wrong, you honestly never suspected anything, but having benefited from his crimes more than anyone else you have the duty to do something. But what?

🩵 Sanji is still by your side, silently and patiently waiting for you to come to terms with the truth; in the end he sees you sigh, and straighten your back as you remind yourself you have more important and urgent things to take care of before succumbing to a mental breakdown. “Was it my father who did this to you?” you murmur quietly as you brush your fingers against one of the many bruises on his face; your touch is gentle and delicate, and Sanji feels himself leaning into it, his heart full of tenderness. “It was; well, his men, but the order came to him.” he reveals, hating himself for the guilt and shame he sees reflected on your face “He also had me kidnapped to have him work for him; his men waited for a moment where I was alone, and my friends have no idea what happened to me.”

🩵 “Oh, that explains everything…” you murmur, and confess that a couple of months ago, while your father’s men had accompanied Sanji to the shops to buy provisions, two people had come to the villa, claiming that their friend, who they had been looking for after he had disappeared, was working there: a red-haired girl and a boy with a straw hat. You had heard your father deny knowing Sanji, and tell them that there was no one matching his description at the villa, whatever the two had heard. “I… happened to pass by the door as they were talking, and listened from behind a corner; later I confronted my father, asking him why he had lied to those two, and he told me that you had confided in him that someone could come looking for you, a crew of pirates who had kidnapped you some time ago, and that he was only trying to protect you. I… thought it was a bit of an unlikely story, but I trusted my father, and he asked me not to tell you anything because it would only upset you to know your former captors were onto you once more.” you admit, your heart full of guilt; had you been less naive, you could have saved Sanji months of captivity! “I am so sorry, Sanji, I should have told you…!”

🩵 Luffy and the others had been looking for him! If only he hadn’t been out of the villa at that moment, Sanji thinks with a sigh, but it can’t be helped, and he knows his friends will not give up until they have found him. “What are you going to do now?” he asks once he has reassured you he doesn’t blame you for having kept silent on a matter he dearly wished he had known about, and with a sigh you recognise you have a duty to expose your father and make sure he pays for his crimes; for this purpose, tomorrow you will wait for him to have left, find as many incriminating documents as you can in his study, and bring them to the local police. In part, despite everything, you feel ashamed, because he has been a good, doting father to you and you’re going to put him in jail for the rest of his life, but his victims deserve justice, and if you don’t act there’s no knowing how many more people he could hurt and kill. Sanji promises he will come with you, and you decide that in the morning you will pretend to feel sick and remain in bed; he will come to serve you breakfast, and together you will slip over to your father’s study, hopefully unnoticed.

🩵 It’s time for both of you to return to bed, and pretend nothing is amiss. Instead of the ardent kisses the more naive, innocent you -in other words, the girl you were an hour ago; and yet, you feel as if you had aged a decade since then, almost not recognising the scared, jaded person you are now- had hoped you would exchange taking advantage of the privacy of the shed, you simply embrace, both apologising and forgiving the pain you indirectly inflicted on each other. That night, after you have said goodbye to Sanji and stolen back to your room, you lay awake in your bed and cry silently, mourning a man you had loved and trusted with all your heart and who, perhaps, never existed to begin with.

🩵 On the next morning, hearing you don’t feel well your father offers to call for the doctor, but you convince him you just need to rest for a while and you’ll feel better soon; he kisses you good-bye, a kiss you force yourself to respond to with a smile even though it tastes like poison. An hour later Sanji comes to your room with a tray full of food that remains untouched; you succeed in walking to your father’s study without being noticed, and after you locked yourselves inside you begin searching for the proves of his crimes - which you find pretty easily, in the form of letters and photographs that connect your father to a long list of crimes, including several murders. Sanji opens the safe hidden behind a painting, containing several bundles of banknotes… and an old paper envelope, with your name written on it. It’s a letter, you discover after opening it, from a woman whose name you have never heard… and who claims to be your mother. “I… I can’t believe it; he always told me my mother died when I was born.” you murmur, once more appalled by the magnitude of your father’s lies “Here it says that he forced her to leave me to him, after promising he would give me this letter when I was ten, so that I could decide if I wanted to meet her or not.” He never did, no doubt as part of his all-encompassing plan to keep you for himself, preventing you from forming relationships out of his sphere of influence. Your own mother has been alive all this time and you didn’t know! This is the ultimate betrayal, a breach of trust you know you will never be able to forgive him for, but you have no time to reflect on the potential consequences of this discovery, because suddenly your father’s men are knocking at the door, having realised both you and Sanji are not where you should; you are able to escape through the window, and he defends you from the men who try to stop you.

🩵 Fortunately, the local head of police is one your father has never been able to bribe or intimidate, and hates him with all his might; he’s at first suspicious of you, fearing this is all a plan your father orchestrated against him, but he changes his mind when you hand him enough evidence to formally accuse your father of at least a dozen crimes. The whole time, as you answer the many questions the police has for you, Sanji remains by your side, holding your hand and silently reassuring you have done the right thing; you are too heart-broken, too full with self-loathing and shame and fear for the future to find some comfort in it, but you are nonetheless happy, and relieved, at least one person in your life respected and cared for you enough to prevent you from living the rest of your life in a lie.

🩵 Hours later, as you are still at the police headquarters, your father is brought in escorted by a small army of agents, his hands cuffed. When he sees you, for a moment he thinks you’ve also been arrested, perhaps on suspicion of having taken part in some of his crimes, but then he sees Sanji next to you, and the way you are looking at him, ashamed and furious and heartbroken, and the truth dawns on him; he looks away, and lets the agents lead him to his cell. “You can talk to him, if you want, provided that one or two agents are present.” the head of police informs you, but you shake your head: you have nothing to tell him, and you don’t have the heart to find out what he thinks of you now that he knows you have betrayed him.

🩵 Now that your father will pay for his crimes, your next intent is to help Sanji return to his friends - which is easier said than done, since while the Straw Hat Pirates may have suspected their cook was kept in your home against his will, months have passed since then and now they could be looking for him on the other side of the sea. Suddenly, you have an idea: knowing Sanji’s friends have the paper delivered to their ship, and that the news of your father’s arrest will appear on the front page, you pay for a message to be printed at the bottom of the article, with Sanji’s name and your Den Den Mushi number, through which his friends will be able to contact him. Sanji thanks you for your help, and tells you how brave you have been to expose your father knowing well how your life would change from then on, but you don’t feel particularly proud of yourself, let alone worthy of being praised: rather, you feel empty, dirty, on account on the kinship with your father, and alone, knowing that you have no fault for his crimes, and at the same time that no matter how much you do to rectify them, you will never stop feeling guilty for having remained blind to the truth.

🩵 Another unconfessable source of pain is the fact that Sanji will leave soon to rejoin his friends, leaving you completely alone. He’s the only friend you have left, the sole person you know for sure has stood by you and offered his friendship of his own accord and not because your father has paid or threatened him, and even though you have only known each other for six months you can’t imagine your life without him, and you know you’ll miss him terribly for the rest of your life. The truth is, you have grown more than a little fond of him, and while you wish you could ask him to remain there with you, not necessarily in the role of a paid chef, you know Sanji has suffered more than enough at the hands of your family, and even just an offer he could be free to decline would be unjustifiably egotistical of you. You do know -or is it simply wishful thinking? After all, for all you know, perhaps he has a girlfriend waiting for him somewhere, perhaps that very pretty red-haired girl who came looking for him months ago- Sanji cares for you, and you are confident he will remember you fondly; that is - that has to be enough.

🩵 As you expected and hoped, the newspaper with the message for Sanji’s friends -and a four pages-long article regarding your father’s arrest and the revelation of his crimes, with so many people now coming forward to attest the abuse and violence they suffered by his hand- has only been circulating for a few hours when your Den Den Mushi receives a call from Straw Hat Luffy himself. Twenty-four hours later, Sanji and his friends are together once again; the others thank you profoundly for what you did, even though you still feel unworthy of their gratitude, convinced as you are that your father’s cruelty and crimes have rubbed off on you, if only because you were too naive, too dumb, to realise what was going on, and you deserve the solitude and shame you already feel.

🩵 You offer Luffy and the others to stay at the villa for the night, before they -including Sanji- depart to resume their journey. That night, the two of you take a walk in the garden, enjoying what you know is your last moment together. “What will you do now?” Sanji asks after a while, and after he has taken your hand in his as you walk, and you admit you are not sure. “I want nothing of what my father owns; I have decided to sell the house, and the proceeds, and all of his money, will go to his victims, the people he wronged and hurt, and their families. It will not cancel his crimes, or bring back the people he killed, but it’s better than nothing. The designer clothes, the jewellery, all the precious things he bought me… I will give everything away; I want to own nothing I have to thank him for, even if it means going around naked and starving.” you explain “All I want to keep is the little money I earned recently with a summer job I had at the company of a friend of his; that I think I earned, even though it was my father who got me the job… and I will use it to go look for my mother. I know where she lived when I was born, and when she wrote that letter; I will go there, and if I can’t find her, well, I will decide on the moment.” Sanji agrees it’s an excellent idea, and that finding your mother will surely make you feel better and help you give a new direction to your life. For a moment he seems about to say something else, but then he bites his lip, and swallows, and “May I kiss you?” he asks in a murmur, and thank all the Gods the night is pitch black, because this time you’re outside. An hour later Sanji walks you back to your room, and after a moment of embarrassment you part at the door.

🩵 The next morning you accompany Sanji and his friends to the harbour, and as the others carry the provisions you have insisted they take -almost all the food that once filled the house’s pantry, and that would have otherwise gone to waste, since you plan on leaving that very day as well- Sanji thanks you for all your help and hands you a paper envelope. “Please read it after we have left.” he asks you, and you promise, unsure of what it could mean but willing to trust him. “I don’t know what I will do without all the good things you have prepared for me.” you murmur, forcing a smile despite the tears that fill your eyes; you’re only partially comforted by the fact that Sanji is clearly as upset as you are. He kisses your hand, and a moment later he has climbed aboard, leaving you alone.

🩵 You remain on the pier until the candid sails of the ship have disappeared on the horizon, a gentle wind pushing it towards lands you don’t even know the name of; as a new warm day rises around you, you open the envelope in your hands, finding as you expected a message from Sanji, short but sufficient to fill your heart with joy. “My darling (name); I know you want to find your mother, but once you have met her would you like to join our crew? Luffy and the others would be happy to have you, and I think you’d enjoy being a pirate. I care for you more than I can put into words; you would make me the happiest man in the world if you just let me show it to you. Take your time, the offer always stands; I know you will make the right choice. With all my love, your devoted chef Sanji.”

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Sanji #Sanji x reader #Taz Skylar #Bellona's stuff #100 notes

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