#again i deeply apologize for not answering sooner

[endymions-slumber]

@hellenic-reconstructionism I deeply apologize for the late response but I would be glad to answer your question about the others epithets! :D

But first a bit of backstory. When I first began my journey as a Hellenic pagan, I checked out @screeching-0wl 's Hellenic cheat sheets (still sometimes do) and that's where I got the epithets.

I wrote down the epithets they had for lady Selene on their cheat sheet and saved it to my drafts and wrote them down in my Hellenic journal. I remembered them a few days ago and I decided to post them since it was Monday.

But I did do my own research on the epithets!Keep in mind that these are all of the things that I have managed to find about the epithets and I have primarily used Theoi.com (great website btw! I highly recommend it) to find all of the information there is on lady Selene's epithets. So if any other worshipper of Selene or someone who has studied her has more information please let me know!

But with that, let's get on to the epithets!

So, for the epithet "Eilethyia" (greek spelling Ειλειθυια), Selene was worshipped as a childbirth goddess in late antiquity. But I also think it came from her being identified with Artemis, who is also a goddess of childbirth.

These are the only sources I found that can back that up.

Scholiast on Homer's Iliad (trans. Campbell, Vol. Greek Lyric I Alcaeus Fragment 390) (Greek scholia B.C.) :

"Chrysippus in his Old Physics [C3rd B.C.], shows that Artemis is Selene (the Moon) and credits it with an influence on childbirth, says that at the full moon not only do women have the easiest labour but all animals have an easy birth."

Cicero, De Natura Deorum 2. 27 (trans. Rackham) (Roman rhetorician C1st B.C.) :

"The name Apollo is Greek; they say that he is the Sun, and Diana [Artemis] they identify with the Moon . . . the name Luna is derived from lucere 'to shine'; for it is the same word as Lucina [Eileithyia], and therefore in our country Juno Lucina is invoked in childbirth, as is Diana in her manifestation as Lucifera (the Light-Bringer) among the Greeks. She is also called Diana Omnivaga (wide-wandering), not from her hunting, but because she is counted as one of the seven planets or ‘wanderers’ (vagary). She was called Diana because she made a sort of Day (Dia) in the night-time. She is invoked to assist at the birth of children, because the period of gestation is either occasionally seven, or more usually nine, lunar revolutions, and these are called menses (months), because they cover measured (mensa) spaces."

Tanysipteros (τανυσίπτερος) is found in the Homeric Hymn 32 to Selene, and that's the only source that I found where that epithet is used.

Now boōpis (Greek spelling βοοπις) was a bit more tricky to find, but I did manage to find a source.

Anonymous (perhaps Pamprepius of Panopolis), Two Poems Fragments (trans. Page, Vol. Select Papyri III, No. 140) (Greek poetry C4th A.D.) :

"The dog-star [Seirios (Sirius)] is extinguished by the watery snowstorms. For even the stars go pale before their streams, no longer do we see the Moon (mênê) [Selene], the dark-eyed lady (potnia kyanôpis) that treads upon the heel of the sun, who is frozen among the clouds ((lacuna)) . . no longer did the redness of the dawn embrace the circle of the night . . . The glow of the ox-eyed moon (boôpis selênê)."

I also think it comes from her association with bulls and oxen. Ampelos compares himself to her when he's riding a wild bull because he's also horned and riding a bull like Selene, the orphic hymn 9 to Selene also refers to her as bull-horned.

Unfortunately I couldn't find the sources for doloéis, lampētes and ennychios. But like I said in the beginning of this post, if anyone has more information on those three epithets and knows where they're from please let me know!

🌙Epithets of Lady Selene🌙

Selene Dolóeis- Subtle One

Selene Boōpis- Cow-eyed

Selene Lampetēs- Lustrous One

Selene Ennychios- Nighty

Selene Pasiphae- All-Shining

Selene Eilethyia- Aiding In Childbirth

Selene Aiglè- Gleam

Selene Tanysipteros- Long-Winged

[rezwrites]

If the requests are open, can I request a Dark! Agatha Harkness x fem! Reader?

Where Agatha gets tired and takes action to own Reader. Agatha had acted kindly to win Reader’s heart but Reader never noticed because she is seriously innocent

Something dark with possessive behavior, dub-con and obsession pls 💕

yes, of course!

Warning: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, heavy drinking, not explicitly stated age-gap, mommy kink

Another failed date. Another wasted talking stage. Disappointment and heartache is all you feel walking out of the crowded restaurant. Slamming your car door you pick up your phone, calling the one person that’s always there for you. It didn’t ring long before Agatha picked up, “Sweetie? I thought you were supposed to be on your date.”

“Got stood up again,” you take a wobbly breath as you try not to cry.

“Oh, honey,” her voice sweet and sympathetic, “Come on over, I’ll have ice cream and Worst Cooks ready.”

The drive home was full of silence, your mind racing with questions about what could’ve gone wrong. Parking into your driveway, you sat there for a second before heading over next door. Knocking on Agatha’s door she answered almost immediately, holding the door open for you. Sitting on the couch you notice two pints of ice cream with spoons; two wine glasses are also set on the coffee table.

“I pulled out the wine too. Figured you could use a drink.” She popped the cork out of wine bottle pouring you both half a glass. Grabbing a thick blanket from the back of the sofa Agatha draped it over the both of you, “We’re just starting season twelve right?

You nodded grabbing both pints, handing Agatha hers. You lost yourself in the show and wine; your ice cream long gone. A light fuzzy feeling washes over you as you lay your head on Agatha’s shoulder. She’s been a such a rock: bringing you gifts after unsuccessful dates and taking you out around town.

“This sucks.” Sighing deeply you sit up, putting your head in your hands. She pauses the television, rubbing your back. All the alcohol running in your system slowed your thought process, making it tough to get words out. You finally managed to mumble, “Disheartening.”

“I’m gonna go home.” You start to stand but quickly lose your balance. Agatha held you steady, worry etched into her features, “Dear, you can’t even hold yourself up.”

“I didn’t mean to drink so much,” you speak slow, a slight slur of your words, “Sorry.”

“I understand, sweetie, there’s no need to apologize. You’ll stay in the guest room.” She left no room for argument. Nodding wordlessly, she carries you to the spare bedroom. Laying you on the bed gently, she drapes the covers and extra blankets over you. Thanking her groggily you turn onto your side, back facing her as you curl in on yourself.

Agatha turned on the nightlight plugged into the wall, lingering in the doorway, reluctantly leaving you. She waited a hour and a half before she got up again. She really didn’t have to wait so long knowing all the alcohol running in your system would’ve put you out immediately, but she wanted to be sure. She prepares herself slipping into her robe, before venturing down the hallway.

You were jolted awake by a hand wrapping around face, your body pinned to the bed. Eyes widening when you see Agatha on top of you, her eyes wild. You want to shake her off, talk this out with her, but your body is still heavy and uncooperative. Sensing your discomfort she lifted up off of you a little, ”Shh, I know. I know you must be so confused, dear.”

“I didn’t like resorting to such dirty tactics with those girls, but every advance I made went over your head. My oblivious little girl,” she tapped your cheek with her finger, mockingly. Sighing, “don’t worry sooner or later you will see that I’m the only one for you.”

You couldn’t deny that you had felt something for Agatha at one point, however the more you thought about it the more it didn’t seem possible that she would have any reciprocation. You truly didn’t see any hints she gave you, just thinking she was being a good friend.

She took her hand off your mouth, replacing in with her lips. Lightly pecking your lips not wanting to smother you knowing it’s hard for you to move right now. Cool fingers creep up your shirt over your stomach, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebble.

She was too fast for your mind to comprehend. Throwing the covers away from you, shucking your clothes off and tossing them at the end of the bed.

Your hands sluggishly move to cover yourself, trying to shield yourself from the cold air and Agathas gaze. Agatha catches your hands moving them back to your side, squandering your feeble attempt. Littering your neck and chest in kisses, she traced back up sucking multiple hickies into your neck and collarbone.

“Seeing you traipse about with those girls,” Agatha nipped at your neck, “Pissed me off knowing they can’t satisfy you like I can.” A whine escapes you when you feel something press against your core. She sheds her robe revealing her nude body with a strap attached to her hips.

She spreads your thighs apart, placing them over hers. Your mind may be quite inebriated, but your body was alight with pleasure. Agatha smiled to herself running her fingers through your wet slit. She mixed your juices and her spit onto her strap, delicately sinking into you.

“Doesn’t it feel good, sweetheart?” She plays with your bundle of nerves her strap bottoming out. “See how wonderful I can make you feel?” She leaned over you sucking a nipple into your mouth.

“Yes!” you weakly moaned out reaching out for her knees to ground yourself, “so good, Mommy.”

You both froze. She released your nipple with a pop, both of you staring at each other like deer in headlights. You struggle to find your words, face heating up. A smile grows on Agatha’s face, “Again. Say it again.”

“More, mommy, please.” you will yourself annunciate clearly. She began thrusting, cradling your face in her hands resting your foreheads together. She stares intently into your eyes, snapping her hips rhythmically, “That’s right, sweetheart, I’m your mommy.”

Agatha focused her thrusts, the tip of her strap hitting deep with you. The minuscule moans you let out intensified her concentration, ”Come for Mommy, baby.”

She watches you fall apart as your body quakes underneath her. You hold her onto her knees tightly as shocks of pleasure reverberate with each thrust, coupled with the tight circles Agatha’s drawing on your clit. Sucking in deep breaths, your heart pounds in your chest. She eased out of you, setting the strap on the nightstand for now.

Agath pulled you close to her, dragging the covers back over you both. She knows you’ll want to talk extensively about this in the morning, but the way you’re pressing up against her already falling back asleep, she can’t bring herself to dwell on that conversation.

[amoreva]

GHOST IN THE WIND

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: after a rough turnout of the quest assigned to you, you began to see your ex-boyfriend as the poison slowly kills you.

warnings: angst, post luke betrayal, poisoning, mentions of effects of poison

a/n: so sorry, was taking a slight break on requests for this fic and the fic series that is in the works. I promise i will answer the requests at some point.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

“Medic!” The door to the medical cabin slammed open. The door knob made a hole in wooden walls at Annabeth’s strength. “Will…”

She rasped out, carrying your dead weight. Your breath coming in short bursts as if your lungs couldn’t hold any more air. Veins darkened to the color of night, crawling up your flesh like a parasite itching to take over the host.

“Oh my gods…” Will Solace, head counselor of Apollo Cabin, gasped and helped you onto one of the uncomfortable cots.

You were mumbling nonsense as black liquid dribbled out of your mouth. Will called out your name, desperately trying to grab your attention. Annabeth was standing over you, concerned.

“Oh gods! Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!” The other Apollo kid on duty piped up, scrambling to find the ambrosia. It was scary how you looked.

It was like something from the Underworld took hold of your body. There was a puncture wound on your abdomen, which was the probable entrance for the poison.

“Hey, hey—stay conscious for me, okay?” Will spoke as your vision began to get cloudy. He can see you withering away and demanded for information.

“Will…” You managed to croak out. Your friend looked at you with worry, to see the brightest camper succumb to an unknown illness was…bone-chilling.

“Don’t sleep—just don’t black out.” Will muttered as you tasted your favorite fruits as ambrosia slid down your throat easily. “Please…I don’t know if you’ll wake up—”

You were out like a light. The ambrosia combating the poison overwhelmed your body. It was too much for your mind to even find a sliver of energy to try and stay conscious.

Your name was shouted, but sleep pulled you away from the medical cabin and throwing you into a different scene.

It was dark, like you were walking in an empty void. “Judgement.”, you think. You must’ve died and was waiting to get judged on whether you can enter Elysium or not.

What a shitty death. Dying from poison, it wasn’t hero worthy nor significant to a war. Just death to some ghastly poison that you were careless to figuring out what it was.

But…it’s not Judgement. It’s not because you see him. He’s walking around in clothes you last remember him in. Orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, khaki pants and sneakers. The beads on his necklace moving each time he walked.

You know he isn’t dead. He Iris-messaged you yesterday to apologize for his betrayal. He can’t be dead. You wouldn’t have it.

“Luke!” You tried to call out, but no sound is made from your mouth. It terrified you. You tried to scream your lover’s (ex-lover’s) name again as you saw claws wrap around Luke from the ground and drag him in.

You tried to scream his name again, running to him, but your legs felt like sludge. He stared at you indifferently, accepting his reality—maybe…maybe just maybe you could save him if you run fast enough.

He slipped between your fingers. His chocolate curls disappearing into the floor of whatever abyss you’re in. You let out a silent, dry sob. If…if you had just noticed sooner…you could’ve saved him.

The same hands wrap around your limbs, tugging you down into the floor. Crying out for help, your heart tightened as if someone had a grip on it—squeezing ever last bit of life out. A sharp pull engulfed you into the void.

You gasped deeply. Body launching forward as you grabbed at your chest. You expected the familiar wood floors of the medical cabin or even Will’s warm smile, but…you were on Half-Blood Hill.

Soft, calloused hands were gently placed in your spine. It doesn’t take an Athena kid to figure out who it was.

“You alright?” His deep warm tone filled your head making yourself dizzy. For moment…you allowed yourself to believe he was here, truly.

“Yeah.” You spoke, surprised to hear your voice again. What happened before becoming less and less memorable as you turned to look at Luke.

“You can tell me, y’know? What’s bothering you.” Luke reassured and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

A familiar smile graces your lips, allowing yourself to relax, you lean up against his chest. “I know.” You mumbled as his toned arms wrap around you. “I just…miss you.”

“Miss me? I’m hardly ever away from you.” Luke playfully teased.

The breeze blew against the two of you causing Luke to squeeze you a little tighter. You always claimed he was a human body heater.

Everything dropped. Faded in an all too quick manner before you could even scream for Luke. He was ripped away from you—but you were supposed to be in his arms.

“Hey! She’s up!” Someone called out.

You mind felt fuzzy. Mumbles, moans and groans tumbled out of your lips. You felt like you were outta your own skin—you jerked. Uncomfortable with this sudden irritation.

Annabeth yelped. The sudden reaction from you almost hit her in the face. Another groan of discomfort and pain escaped. Accompanied by it was another struggle to get whatever was out of your body.

To you, it felt like you were shifting a little to get comfortable. In reality, your body was violently twitching and reacting you hit a few Apollo kids. The veins darker than before, your skin paler than usual. What did this poison do?

“Get her—restrain…I—” Will demanded, worried you’d end up hurting yourself.

You screamed as something grabbed you, someone grabbed you. Your brain could only register it as danger and hurt and agony and—

“Stop it—!” You begged. Your voice sounded demented, as if it was the poison talking.

Black liquid oozed out of your mouth as you begged for whatever to stop. Ambrosia was forced down your throat. Lights were too bright. The panic was defeating.

You fell.

But you felt no pain.

It was “Judgement” again. The endless void surrounding the distinct figure, you. “There you are…” Luke grinned once he spotted you. Your legs carrying you to the Hermes’ counselor before you could think of the action.

The void morphed into the familiar forest used to play Capture the Flag. Luke laced his hand with yours. “S’just up ahead.” He tugged you along.

Once more, you let yourself relax like this was the reality that fate has set and not one where Luke betrayed Camp, betrayed Percy, betrayed Annabeth, betrayed…you.

“Where are you taking me?” You laughed. A bright smile on your face as you maneuvered through the forest.

Slipping through the trees and branches, Luke brings you to the dock. The water washing up on the small beach.

A small cliche red and white checkered blanket laid out across the wooden dock, masking the potential splinters. There was chips and two soda cans on the blanket and six roses bunched up to make it look like a bouquet.

“Oh Luke…” Any confusion or anger evaporated when you saw the scene.

He smiled, smiled that charming grin and pulled you to sit down on the blanket. “Used up the rest of my money for the snacks and to bargain with a Demeter kid for these.”

He held up the six roses. The petals a delicate red, soft as a baby’s bum. They smelled nice. He went through all this effort for you?

“Luke…” You repeat in the same tone and took the roses from his hand. You noticed the thorns were cut off and a couple of band aids were around his fingers.

A show of his effort to rid the thorns so you didn’t prick your fingers.

“This…this is all wonderful.” You said, albeit a bit breathless. The roses, the snacks, the blanket—all the thought put into this date. It made you forget you were dreaming. You should’ve known…this was too good to be true.

But you stayed oblivious and in denial, tackling your (ex) boyfriend in a grateful hug. Luke laughed and wrapped your arm around your waist.

Yet, your subconscious pulled you from the happy moment. An uncomfortable feeling itching to tear your guts and organs to shreds. It was as if your own organs and nerves did not belong there—like they were in the wrong body. A warbled scream left your throat. Hands desperate to claw at your flesh.

You wanted it to stop—you would do anything to get this feeling to stop. Your heart breaking. To be ripped away from Luke again and again. In both subconscious and reality was cruel.

Your veins now tendrils crawling up your face, stopping just a little above your eyebrows.

“Hey, hey—breathe!” Someone comforted. You couldn’t recognize their face. It was like as if your sense of familiarity disappeared, triggering your fight or flight (mostly fight) response.

“Will—the antidote?!” A girl called out. Her voice somewhat familiar.

You struggled against binds. You wanted to run far, far away and stop this pain. The pain in your body, the pain in your mind…the agonizing ache in your heart.

“Luke—” The name left your lips desperate for any sort of answer to what was happening.

A small pinch.

Fire. White hot pain sprouting in your body. Burning your insides out. Another cry for help. Another scream of desperation. His name leaving your mouth. It hurt—it hurt all too much. Both the burning in your body and the reality of him being gone. Truly, gone.

“Luke! Please…please—help!”

Overwhelmed, you were sucked back into the dream. This time on a cabin bed. It was unclear on whose cabin you two were in. Luke had his arms around your waist, head on your stomach. The pain fleeting, but lingering.

The stars shined brights whilst the moonlight blessed you two. It was peaceful, almost…dare you say—normal. No gods, no goddesses, no prophecies, no quests, no betrayal, no hurt. Nothing.

You found yourself humming, running your fingers through his curls, and feeling your eyes close with fatigue.

“Falling asleep there, sweetheart?” You could feel his smile against your skin. He pressed a kiss to the flesh nearest to his lips.

“Mhm…” Your body flared up due to a burn—but there was no fire in the cabin. You stayed put. “I—I could spend all of eternity with you.”

“I could spend all of my time in Elysium with you.” Luke mumbled and turned his head to look up at you.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then his hands, so he was close to you. Lips connected like hands clasping for prayer. It was soft, yet it spoke a lot of words that he could not get out.

“I love you. Never forget that, okay?” Luke whispered against your lips.

His beaded necklace hovering over you. You placed your arms around his neck slowly and kissed him again. Never wanting the moment to stop.

Even then, you never had the courage to say those three simple words to Luke. Realizing this might be the last time you see him, dream or not. It made you sad he never heard it from you.

Maybe this will make up for it?

“I love you—I love you. I love you.” You repeated. Your voice shaky, holding back tears. This wasn’t real and you know it’s not real—but…you missed Luke. You missed him so much that it hurts. You didn’t believe he would betray Camp Half-Blood and you without Kronos’ manipulation.

“Hey…” Luke cupped your face and kissed your forehead. He grabbed your arms to sit up. It wasn’t good to cry laying down. “Don’t tear up. Everything will be okay, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What are you—?”

“I’m sorry, but you have the wake up.” Luke sighed and pressed his forehead with yours.

“Wait—“

“You have to wake up.” Luke grasped your hands. He held you as if this was the last time.

“What?”

“I love you very much and—and I’m so sorry for leaving you there—“

“Luke—wait!”

Your eyes shot up to be met with wooden walls of the medical cabin. Will and Annabeth shot up, ready to take necessary precautions. A dry sob left your mouth.

“Hey…” Will spoke softly.

You sat up, tears cascading down your face. You started to helplessly wipe them. You could feel his touch lingering. His hands grasping yours. Will pulled you into a soft hug when he deducted the poison was out of your system.

The mind is cruel, the poison was cruel. Fate was cruel, life was cruel.

You missed him.

You buried into Will as if it was him. Will and Annabeth thought you were crying because of the overwhelming feelings of what happened when you were poisoned.

You missed him.

—– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • · —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —–

[sweetkpopmusings]

miserable (you & me) | h. jisung <3

a/n: jisung unlocks a part of me that is deeply emotional and romantic like ...... i love and cherish him so much :-( i really got in my feels with this one, and i hope you enjoy a glimpse into what i think being loved by jisung is like <3 also yes i gave him my favorite lyric of the song as a treat because his lyrics pull me apart and put me back together every time :,-) pics not mine~

content: angst, happy ending | wc: 1.3k | warnings: none really! | pairing: jisung x gn!reader | requests:open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“i don’t wanna lose a part of me, you are my heart, you know?”

jisung couldn’t believe he was living out an overplayed scene in every book, movie, song, and tv show ever created. maybe some clichés were just universal experiences. if that were true, staring out blankly at flashing lights on the tarmac after the plane touches the ground must be a rite of passage for every modern human. his body barely registered the number of hours suspended in the air, as his mind only focused on one thing: you. if asked about the music he listened to during the flight, he wouldn’t know how to answer. truthfully, he didn’t listen to anything other than the internal chant of your name mixed with alternate beats of i’m sorry and i wish i said so sooner. 

jisung barely survived the past few weeks. existing with love and heartbreak in one body simultaneously sounds made-up, but that was jisung’s reality after he walked away that night. a reality he created and regretted more than anything.

it was classic. both of you were stressed from too many things going wrong in your lives, and the agitation bled into your conversations and actions. even your facial expressions were tinged with negative emotions not meant for each other. then, as it so often happened, one wrong sentence ruined everything. 

you knew jisung didn’t mean it when he said “if you’re so unhappy every time you see me, then why do you keep inviting me over?” 

but he said it, and you heard it, and it hurt. 

though jisung’s face fell at the sound of his words, all you could think to say was, “i think you should go. you have an early flight tomorrow.”

jisung stood there, mouth open, waiting for words–the right ones–to come out of his mouth. the silence hung in the air for too long. he saw your eyes glistening with tears, and he didn’t want his presence to be the reason the tears fell. again, out of exhaustion and fear of a fight, he said the wrong thing.

“okay, i’ll go.”

jisung’s heart broke when all you replied was, “safe travels.”

neither of you made a promise to see each other after jisung returned. both of you assumed you would see each other as soon as he was back, but both of you feared that the other person wouldn’t want to reunite. somehow words unsaid weighed on both of you more than the misspoken ones. but it felt too late. neither of you knew if continuing the conversation tonight was right, so neither of you said anything. jisung’s plane took him away the next morning, and you couldn’t find the courage to close the distance between you two any time soon.

that fear hung over jisung for the entire trip. it ate him up inside, yet he didn’t have the courage to face it. for weeks, he felt frozen. then, perhaps from the adrenaline of finally being in the same city as you again, he found the courage.

as soon as he unlocked his front door, jisung threw his bag on the floor, and, without a second thought, he turned on his heel and rushed to your place. he didn’t care if he had to wait at your doorstep all night and well into the morning. jisung could not, would not rest until he apologized to your face. you deserved that. if his words were what hurt you, then you deserved a million more kind words from him until you were healed. 

his heart was about to burst out of his chest during the seconds between his knock on your door and you pulling it open. you were so beautiful to jisung, and your beauty became more profound when he saw you again. he felt he could cry looking at you in your doorway. even he hadn’t realized how deeply he had missed you until you were within arms’ reach. 

everything had felt so far away for so long, but, with you, finally, jisung felt connected to everything around him. he felt like he could breathe for the first time when he heard your soft hello. he felt the world start spinning again when you said his name. he felt his heartbeat return to his chest, replacing the dull ache that had filled it since he turned his back to you that night. 

“i’m sorry.”

a small, instinctive smile flickered on your face at the sound of his voice, “come inside.”

jisung nodded, shaking from the desire to spill his heart out to you. thankfully, you sensed this, and you gave him the space to make things right again.

“i’m so, so sorry, y/n. i know i shouldn’t have left that night like that, and i know i should’ve apologized sooner. there are so many things to say to you, and you don’t owe it to me to listen. i just need you to know i’m sorry and i regret what i said and did that night. you didn’t deserve that.”

jisung paused. he held your gaze, eyes very clearly filling with tears. he waited for your permission to continue speaking, which you gave with a nod. he blinked, took a deep breath, and filled himself with equal parts courage and love for you.

“i also regret not saying anything, anything at all, sooner. i got in my head. i was so scared that saying ‘i’m sorry’ over text wasn’t enough, and i felt it was unfair to talk like normal when things clearly weren’t normal. i needed you to know how sorry i am. then, as the days passed, i realized a phone call wouldn’t be enough either. well, that, and i was so scared you wouldn’t answer my call. i would’ve deserved it, but a rejected phone call somehow felt more painful than a prolonged silence, so i didn’t call. i’m a coward, i know, and i am sorry for that too. that’s why i’m here.” 

jisung paused again, wiping his tears before gently holding your hands in his own, “you can kick me out as soon as i say my last word. i won’t fight you on it. i hate that i hurt you right before getting on the flight. i missed you so much that i lost my mind. i never want to feel that lost again. i never want to lose you. so i’m sorry. i will do everything you need me to, just so i can make things right again. you are my everything, and you deserve more than everything i can give you.”

tears fell from your eyes this time, which made jisung cry even more. the way you looked at him as you took in his apology gave him hope. he raised his hands to wipe your tears and then cradled your face softly. you were enveloped in his love and the relief that, despite the mistakes, he chose to come back to you. he kept his promise to choose you every time. that was more than enough proof that his apology was real.

your hands covered his, and you smiled despite sniffling, “i forgive you, jisung. thank you for apologizing, and thank you for coming here tonight.”

jisung felt as though he could sob and shout from the rooftops in joy. you forgave him. he hadn’t lost you. his heart would be complete again. 

“thank you, y/n. that means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

a comfortable, tender silence washed over you in your living room. you held each other, cherishing the distance disappearing. this was how things were meant to be. this was what you and jisung would always work for, no matter what got in the way, because the shared space between you was the strongest center of gravity you knew.

once all of the tears dried, jisung smiled brightly and confessed, “i really missed you so much. you are my heart, you know?”

familiar butterflies filled your stomach in response to jisung’s sweet, romantic words, “i missed you too, jisung. i’m so happy to have you back. more than you’ll ever know.”

the way jisung smiled at you made you think that maybe, just maybe, he knew exactly how happy you were.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship

Sort of requested/mentioned by @autisticgenderworm and desired by yours truly, here is the other version of this reaction. I hope it brings comfort to anyone who needs it.

Warnings: mentions/implications of past abuse, but nothing graphic

Aragorn

Aragorn's pause sparks no concern. He is a pensive man and that is something you always loved about him, let alone any consideration the gravity of what you just shared. "And you gave your heart so freely, I have no doubt." He shakes his head. "That such a truly corrupt mind would try to take you. But that is just it: I see it in your eyes and I feel it in the way I am so lucky in your love. They can try, but they cannot break you. You are stronger than all the hate, all the avarice, in the world. You know this, do you not?" Eyes watering, you peer at him and blink. "Some days I feel so far from that." Aragorn nods. He reaches out and holds your cheek against his calloused palm and somehow it is the softest touch you've ever felt. "Our true strength is that we are never alone. You have so many who will fight for you. I will fight for you. You will be on no lead, your own person simply making our lives all the richer for it."

Legolas

Brows furrowing lightly, he tilts his head, fixing you with a look of deep sorrow. You see his hand raise, lower again hesitantly, so you reach out to take it. "I don't mean to frighten you," you tell him, "I'm sorry." “You have nothing to apologize for, my love. The burden rests solely on the one who took it upon themselves to hurt you. It was nothing you did. And I am not frightened. Rather I would have you feel safe.” “I do,” you tell him, “That is why I hoped you were not afraid. The last thing I would want is for you to see me differently. To be too much for you.” “Too much for me? No such thing,” Legolas teases with a little smile, “But truly I am just grateful you shared. If there is anything I do, anything I say, allow me to apologize now.” “That alone puts me at ease,” you reply, feeling yourself relax and breathe deeply once more as Legolas takes your hand.

Boromir

“Why?” “I- I don’t think there was a ‘why’,” you stuttered, “I could have done things differently, I suppose, but-” “No,” Boromir cuts you off, a hand reaching to gently caress your cheek, “Not you, my dear. Not you. Why would anyone seek to defile beauty? And kindness. Why indeed.” “I don’t know,” you answer helplessly, gaze falling from his, “I should have left sooner. I-I guess I was truly that lonely that I thought it was worth changing. It wasn’t.” A shaky, sardonic laugh escapes your lips. “Nobody should have to choose between lonely and pain,” Boromir laments, hands sliding down to take yours, “But we are here now, and I will give you everything you deserve.”

Gimli

“Where is the bastard? I have a selection of choice words for such a great blight upon this earth.” Gimli’s hands ball into fists at his sides as he speaks, his voice darkening a bit more with each passing word. You cannot help but smile at that even in spite of his tone. “I would be happy to introduce you if I knew,” you replied, “But I know not and care not.” “That’s my fire!” Gimli exclaims, pride coloring his tone and his very gaze upon you. “You don’t need me- my approval or my axe! But of course you have them both with equal enthusiasm. To look upon you is to see a flame most bright and most beautiful that nobody’s rain can extinguish.” It is you who steps forward first, pulling the dwarf into your arms, but it is Gimli who asks if he might kiss your beautiful lips. Just the asking is such a difference; of course you acquiesce.

Frodo

He says nothing at first, expression just softening and crumpling in pain. One fair hand extends and finds purchase upon your shoulder; Frodo’s touch melts you and he feels your relaxation beneath him. “Oh,” he speaks your name so softly, all but reverently, “For so long you have been my strength and yet you carried this.” “I didn’t know how to tell you,” you answer, “Didn’t want you to think badly of me.” “How could I? You asked for none of that. So often do these things happen against our will.” “Sometimes I wish I had never said yes when I did. So I would have never had to say no,” you tell him, crumpling into his arms. Frodo presses a kiss to the crown of your head. I often remember what Gandalf told me: ‘All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us’. They may have chosen to use their time to hurt and to wrestle control, but no longer. Time can only do so much healing, I know, but I will be here for you. Here for it all.”

Sam

"You can't mean... They didn't!" Anger flashes in Sam's typically docile green eyes. "I know," you reply, "I shouldn't have-" "You shouldn't have? The only person who shouldn't have was that monster! Don't you dare apologize for something you didn't do, alright? I don't want that sort of thing running through your head." Sam's last sentence emerged quietly. Trembled with an uncertain sadness. It broke you and made you whole all over again. You gave a small nod. "You're right." Sam looked up and met your eyes once more, returning the gesture with a bit more vigor. "I see that now, and that is all thanks to you. You love me like I deserve. Fight for me in all you do. When I am with you, Sam, I have the love I always thought was just a dream.” Tears rose in his eyes then even as his lips smiled. “And when I met you I thought the same: this has to be a dream.”

Merry

“They didn’t.” “Unfortunately,” you nod, gaze locked upon your feet, “They did. Sometimes I wonder what might have been different if I had-” “Don’t do that to yourself!” Merry cut you off, pausing for a moment as a look of remorseful surprise came over him. “That is to say we can’t change the past. Just like we can’t see the future. I may not have been there for your past, but I do know nothing that happened came of what you did. People like that, they have no shame. You are far too kind for someone like that. They took advantage of you. Made you feel bad and that’s all them. All right?” It was still difficult to believe sometimes, but Merry’s voice was nothing but convicted, and you trusted him. Swallowing, you nodded. “All right.” The hobbit opened his arms. “Come here.” You fell right in.

Pippin

"No." Eyes wide, he shakes his head and reaches for your hands. "No. How could- How could anybody..." "I don't know," you sigh, relaxing slightly as his thumbs ran over the backs of your hands, "Perhaps I should never have-" Pippin cut you off there. "It wasn't your fault. None of it was. There isn't a thing you could do to make any of that alright. And I swear to you that I will never do anything of the like. After all, who could even think of putting a precious gem like yourself down, hm?" At those last words, the soothing touch of his hands, your tearful expression broke into a shaky smile. "What did I do to deserve you?" You asked. "Don't worry," he replied, "I ask myself the same thing every day. I love you, you know. And I want to treat you like it. If I ever don't, please help me." The longer he spoke, his words faded closer and closer to a whisper, those lovely green eyes focused solely, searchingly, upon your gaze. Tears returning alongside your smile, you nodded. "You already do, Pippin. You already do."

Faramir

Brows furrowed, Faramir takes your hands at once, blue eyes gazing deeply into yours. "There are no words to lift the weight of it all. Nothing I can say but that your pain is mine and that I know how difficult it is to speak of such things. Thank you, truly, for sharing this with me. I want to be worthy of this. Of you." Worthy of you? Him? "You are more than worthy, Faramir." "And I wish to continue to live up to that for the sake of your beautiful heart. I wish for you to never feel unworthy again." His voice breaks and your heart does the same, knowing how similar your experiences were- Faramir was made to feel lesser for years. "I want the same for you," you run your hands over his gently with a tentative smile, "And I think deep down I knew you would understand. That no one else would understand like you. We can love each other more every day." "I like the sound of that," Faramir replies, his eyes shining nothing but love into yours.

Eomer

Even as your words fade, you catch the way his hands tighten into fists, tense slightly at the sight. "Coward. That worm had no honor whatsoever. And you...here you stand triumphant." "It does not always feel so," you admit, gaze falling. Eomer places a hand upon your shoulder. "We all have our scars. To escape, to be free... Why, that is the greatest show of strength. Is it not what we all fight for? And fight you did! Believe me when I tell you I am nothing but proud of you." Eomer's normally stoic expression rises into a smile, his hand sliding from your shoulder gently down your arm and finally to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips. "Nobody has the right to treat you like property. They should feel ashamed trying to tame a heart like yours. I would have it tempered. Let me act as your bellows, then, to stoke your fire of resiliency." His words do indeed fuel the embers in your heart, coax fire to them as they bring a small smile to your lips. "I would like that." "And let that scoundrel hope to never come within a league of this place while I draw breath."

Eowyn

“So cruel this world can be!” Eowyn cries out. “How can they not see all you have to offer? This will hardly erase the hurt, but I will say this: the loss is theirs.” Leaning in, her voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper at that last phrase, her lips raising in a tentative smile. “For your heart is strong and steadfast and your laugh is music to me. To have you by my side is naught but joy. So help me, I will never treat you as a belonging, put you in a cage. And if that is how you feel I would have you tell me." "Never," you answer her, "Nor would I do the same to you. I told you because I trust you to understand. Because I love you." She leans forward at this, connecting your foreheads; golden strands of hair tickle your cheek, but you mind not. "And I you," Eowyn breathes.

Haldir

Never have you seen Haldir's eyes darken such as they are now. A part of you wants to back away, but you know that his ire is not for you. Not when he shakes his head, looking at you with...not quite pity. Rather all that swims in his eyes as he turns back to you is a new understanding, something deep in the blue. His hands hover over you as if you are spun-glass, and with your eyelids fluttering shut you take them and rest them upon your hips. "I do not mean to trouble you with this news, I just..." "Trouble me? The only trouble I have is how badly I wish to punish anybody who hurts you." At that, he smirks a bit and you feel his hands grip you a bit tighter. A shiver runs down your spine at his words. "You know, I would hardly mind that at this point. Not exactly unearned. So this is no change to you?" "Only any changes you want me to make," Haldir answers.

Galadriel

Her face falls, but something in its look leads you to suspect she knew already. Galadriel's gifts lie far beyond your understanding. "Do not discount the light you bring to this world," her voice cuts through your thoughts, "For you remind me of its joys every day. There will always be those who seek to rob us of our light, but that is only to fill the darkness that is in their hearts. You are more than enough despite what they say. You need not trouble yourself with the words of lesser folk." Tears flood your eyes at her words and all you can do is nod, shakily smiling. You feel Galadriel's lips against one cheek, then the other, then upon the top of your head, and finally warmly and softly upon your lips. "I'm so lucky to have you," you tell her, and at that she shakes her head. "It is I who is the lucky one," she refutes with a mischievous but loving smile.

Elrond

For just a moment, his expression steels and you flinch back, but only for a moment before it’s softened like never before and falling. Pain. That is the only word to describe what crosses Elrond’s face. He feels your pain. Stepping closer, the Lord of Rivendell opens his arms, and with a tearful smile you fall into them, into the silken softness of his robe and the gentle warmth of his hold. “Healing takes time. I have time. And here I shall be to grant you peace as best I can. Please do not hesitate to ask it of me. If you ask it and it is within my power, I shall grant it.” “I’d like to stay like this,” you reply, words muffled by the cushion of your cheek to his chest, the sound of Elrond’s soothing heartbeat in your ear. “As would I,” he agrees softly.

Arwen

“Meleth nîn,” she addresses you softly, brows furrowed in concern, “You endured all that?” At her words, you just nod, gripping her hands a bit tighter. She gives yours a gentle squeeze in response. “Your strength knows no bounds. Fear not, for by my side you can take all the time you need. I can wait, you know.” At that, she giggles and you smile. You are, after all, in love with not only the fairest of beings but one immortal by nearly all accounts. Her smile alone brings you so much comfort. “You are the one I have chosen and I will not take that for granted. You are a gift and that anyone would cast that aside is folly.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch @tiny-and-witchy @th3-st4r-gur1 @fleurdemiel-145 @mistresskayla-blog1 @misabelle717 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | Reply/Message/Ask to join 💕

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, energy is tenseee

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE (partially written! wc: 1.4k)

You sigh, placing your phone next to you as you slide down further into your pillows. Time is running out to ask Minho, you know that, and Lily has been pressing too. The deadline for offering interviews lingers sooner than when they start. With a groan, you swing your feet over the edge of your bed and slip them into the bunny slippers previously kicked off at the end of your bedframe, trudging to your door.

Minho is already pouring a cup of coffee into a dark brown mug when you enter the kitchen, wearing his normal work attire; a tight black t-shirt tucked into black jeans and a belt. Sometimes you were jealous of the simplicity. He doesn't notice you lean on the island, back facing you. When he does turn around, he startles, the tiniest drop of hot coffee running down the side of his mug and seeping under his hand. He doesn't hiss at the burn, doesn't even flinch, just puts the mug down and wipes his hand on the cloth hanging off the oven door.

"Dont sneak up on people, it's not nice," he says, replacing the cloth.

You perk up at his voice. "We're talking again, good, that's good. Listen, I deeply apologize for what I said and I don't even believe that, you know? I'm sure your ex loved you a lot. There was definitely a really good reason for her to hide her husband from you. Maybe he sucked! In any case, you're a great guy, so why wouldn't she choose you?"

Taking a deep breath, you refocus yourself. Minho is staring at you from above his mug, blowing gently on the hot liquid. There's still tension between you two, the air thick and hot.

"Was there a point to all that?" He asks bluntly.

"Yes, um. This is bad timing, but have you decided if you're doing Lily's thing or not yet...?" He sets his mug down with a sigh. "Of course, it's okay if you don't want to! Deadlines are coming up though so she needs an answer whether you're doing it or not."

He takes his time answering, sipping his coffee, running a hand through his hair, stretching. Part of you is getting frustrated. How hard is it to say a simple yes or no? Either he's doing it or not, there's not exactly a grey area.

"I'll do it," Minho finally answers, and you barely contain a squeal of excitement.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You run around the island and hug him, nearly knocking over your stool in the process.

It's short-lived, pulling away to see Minho's face painted red, no doubt mimicking your own. Clearing his throat, he nods at you and grabs his coffee, turning away from you. You're about to leave when you remembered what prompted you to seek him out in the first place.

"We're having a game night tonight if you want to join? It's just gonna be the boys, Hyun, NingNing, and I invited Soobin too." You lean against the wall of the hallway leading to your rooms, waiting for a response.

"Ah, I might be working late again, but I'll see what Jeongin is up to. Is it okay if I..." He shakes his head. "Never mind, forget that. I'll either see you or I won't."

"Okaaay," you give him two thumbs up, but immediately put them back down when he gives you a weird look.

-

Game night is in full swing by ten with snacks and drinks taking up the island and bodies filling up the couch. A pile of UNO cards sit messily in the middle of the table, NingNing taking it upon herself to tidy it up every so often, even if it only stays like that for a couple of turns. You're so close to calling UNO, smirking as you place down another pick-up-4 card and watch as Soobin's head slowly turns to look at you with fake disdain. He keeps eye contact as his hand reaches for the deck, barely containing his own smile as he glares at you, and you can't help but giggle.

All night has been like this- teasing Soobin and getting him used to your friends now that you've become a bit more serious. His training under you has finally ended, so you feel less guilty about the whole thing. The only thing is that you still haven't shared it with your boss, but that's a problem for another day. Right now, all you can think of is the way Soobin has his free hand over yours, thumb caressing the back of your hand and only taking it away to place a card down. He fits in nicely with everyone, almost like he's always been there... which makes sense seeing as he was already friends with Beomgyu.

"UN-" you're attention turns to the two bodies walking through the front door, "-oh."

In comes Minho with a girl you don't recognize hanging off his arm, in their own world as they kick their shoes off and laugh at something she whispers in his ear. Neither seem to notice the big group around the table until the girl gives a little, and uncomfortable, wave. Minho has his arm wrapped around her waist tightly, and you follow his gaze to where Han and Beomgyu sit. On their faces are matching angry stares, Han with his mouth open slightly.

"You're kidding," Beomgyu scoffs. "Tell me you're kidding, Min."

"I forgot you were having a game night," Minho shifts.

"Don't ignore the question." You look at Beomgyu, anxiety crawling up your throat. "Why is she here? And why are you acting so... couple-y?"

Han stands, and you can see his hands are shaking. "You got back together?"

"Oh, come on," the girl speaks for the first time, a look of annoyance on her face. "We always get back together."

"I wasn't talking to you-" Han points a finger at her, then directs it to Minho. "You, explain."

"No," Minho sighs. "I don't think I need to. If you're unhappy with your own love lives, you don't need to project onto me. None of you can say shit about relationships here. You're sneaking around because you're ashamed, and Y/n is only with Soobin because she can't get over her ex. Just to name a few."

You avoid eye contact with Soobin, a pang of hurt in your chest, glaring at Minho.

"I'm not unhappy," you say, feeling Soobin squeeze your hand. "You have no right to comment on my relationships because you're jealous."

Hurt flashes over Minho's face for a millisecond, quickly covered by a stoic expression. "Why would I be jealous? People can change-"

"Like hell, they can." Beomgyu stands now, circling around the table and past the couch to get into his personal space. "You said it yourself you don't believe that! And what about your husband?" He looks the girl in the eye and you hear NingNing gasp; you forgot to tell her. "What does he think of all this?"

"We're divorcing," she answers quietly, looking down at the floor. "He wasn't good for me. Not like you'd understand, or even take the time to try and understand."

Her voice turns watery at the end of the sentence, orange hair shielding her face as she curls into Minho's chest. From the shudder of her body, you can tell she's starting to cry. You almost feel bad for her. Taking in her words, you feel there's more to the story than what you know and what the others are willing to listen to, but you're already to upset to care. Han joins Beomgyu, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe we should leave it alone."

"And maybe he should leave, take his princess back to her tower," Beomgyu spits.

Minho's eyes turn dark, jaw clenching. He's holding back hurtful comments, just barely. After another moment of tense staring, Minho breaks eye contact and leads the girl- his ex- back to the front door. Slipping on his shoes, he helps her with her own when her hands prove to be too shaky to tie the laces. When he leaves the room is completely silent, Beomgyu taking a seat next to Hyunjin on the couch and Han walking away down the hall, the sound of a door slamming following his departure.

-

notes -> maybe we were quick to judge his ex...? maybe.......?

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[hippolotamus]

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Hello, Beeloved! Your sentences, plus a few extra 💖

“Thank you,” she whispers. “My brother would say differently, but I swear I’m not usually like this.”  “It’s part of our charm, I think, as brothers. To antagonize our sisters. I’m sure mine would be all too happy to commiserate with you there.” She smiles again, a real one that reaches her eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. Maybe it’s wrong of him but he’s glad he could do that. It gives him hope that this could work. That they could have a future together.  Maddie isn’t Shannon, but no one ever will be. He thinks that’s part of what his mother’s been trying to drive home. He’s also sure that’s exactly what his mother wants. Someone who isn’t his late wife. Someone who focuses on their needlework and creating a welcoming home. Someone too obedient and timid to stand up to Helena Diaz.  “Evan means well,” she assures him. “I don’t think I could have asked for a better little brother. He cares so much, and so deeply, even though he’s got countless reasons not to.”  Before Eddie can ask what that means, he notices the song nearing its end. There’s already a line of anxious suitors waiting for Maddie’s attention. He wants to get a final few words in while he can.  “I’m glad you have someone looking out for you. Just, um, one more thing, Maddie. Whether you’re normally ‘like this’ or not, I hope you are. Really. It means you’ve got heart. Something that seems a bit of a rarity these days.” She opens her mouth to answer, but she cuts herself off as she focuses her gaze over Eddie’s shoulder. “Evan?”  He hasn’t fully turned before he hears it. The voice he wants to belong to anyone else.  “You.”  Because why would the universe make anything simple or easy for him? Why wouldn’t the persnickety, protective younger brother be the same one who berated him in the conservatory gardens for reasons he still isn’t privy to? The man – Evan, apparently – moves swiftly to Maddie’s side, angling himself between her and Eddie.  “Evan, what are you-” “Maddie, it’s okay. My apologies that I wasn’t here sooner to protect you from this-" Evan sneers, looking him up and down. “It actually doesn’t matter what he is. The point is he’s not worth your consideration. Come on, let’s go.”  Eddie politely steps aside, clearing a path for them to retreat. While he doesn’t know what he did, he’s not going to be the source of any more agitation.

[the-suns-temple]

hello! i'm a very beginner in all this. i researched a bit and i would like to start worshipping apollo, since i hope he's going to guide me through a journey of healing.

i did a prayer, today. shouldn't i have done that since i am just a beginner?

is there something important i should know before worshipping him?

how does he like to be worshipped?

thank you so much in advance. any advice is very very welcomed.

Ciao! I so deeply apologize for not answering this sooner. There is nothing wrong with praying at the beginning of your practice. In fact, I personally encourage it. Prayer is an excellent way to connect with your Gods and build a relationship with them. I started my relationship with Lord Apollo via prayer and offerings. My golden rule is this: If you ask the Gods for something, leave them an offering. If I ask Lord Apollo for assistance navigating a situation, I leave him Bay Leaves and burn incense for him.

Prayer is something that any practitioner can do. Prayer is part of worship. Prayer is part of your relationship with the Gods. If you feel inclined to pray, do so! I never pray without an offering. This is how I format my prayer: I greet the deity I am talking to and reference three of the things they rule over. For example, "O, Lord Apollo, God of the Sun and light, God of Prophecy and truth, bringer of plague and medicine." This clearly defines who you would like your prayer to reach. Then, I thank them for all they have done for me. This can be very broad, i.e. "Thank you for all you have done for me, all you do for me, and all you continue to do for me in life." From here, I typically move into my request, and following the request, I make an offering. I may ask Lord Apollo for assistance getting through a depressive episode while lighting incense and setting it down. Then, I thank him again for all he has done, will do, and continues to do for me.

Prayer is also a very personal thing. So what works for me may not work for you. You may not like what my prayers look like, but this is what works for me. I sincerely hope this helps, and please, do continue to ask if you have questions.

Best wishes, and blessed be, and may the Sun be your guide. Khaire.

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Why The Caged Bird Sings | Chapter 5

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction) Rating: Explicit Relationships Vinsmoke Sanji x F!Reader Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Patty, Red Leg Zeff, Original Characters, Strawhat crew. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, minor POV switching. Summary: One night, you were brought to the luxurious Baratie Restaurant Ship, renowned for its exceptional cuisine that your family had been intrigued to sample. A particular blond and comely waiter captured your attention with his charming smile and gentle eyes, but while your beauty and sophistication intrigued him, Sanji also observed the profound nervousness that caused your jaw and body muscles to tense whenever your fiancé made contact with your hand or your parents delivered a humiliating criticism towards you. One dinner at the Baratie soon turned into a recurring event, and then more. As your friendship with Sanji slowly evolved into something that burned from within, you strove to make your longstanding dream come true; freeing yourself from a constricting existence. ------------------------- As Sanji looked at you curiously, the gentle smile never leaving his face, you asked him, "Do you know why the caged bird sings?" He thought about it for a moment before answering, "Because it has a song to give?" You chuckled at his response and shook your head. "You're not entirely wrong, but no."

Divider by firefly-graphics

Feel free to read this on AO3 if it is more comfortable for you due to its length. I only ask to support me with a like and reblog if you enjoy my work. ☺️

Author's note: Long chapters are a must for me apparently. Please be careful with the mentioned themes here, considering they include some emotional abuse again and a tiny bit of blood. Also, this update includes Spoilers about Sanji's past.

Working at the Baratie turned out to be the most rewarding experience of your life. However, as you wrestled to suppress your burgeoning feelings for Sanji, you also had to contend with the obstinacy of your father who, furious over losing everything because of you, adamantly refused to keep his distance.

As the day progressed, the realization that you wouldn't be returning from the Baratie to your old abode began to set in. That place, with its distinct eccentricities and allure, was on the brink of becoming your new home. The idea was simultaneously thrilling and deeply daunting.

Facing such a dramatic shift in lifestyle was a challenge you had never encountered before. Yet, it was a needed change that, despite its intimidating nature, could potentially act as a catalyst propelling you into a promising future.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Mari revealed during your meal.

Her expression was a tableau of genuine remorse, her spirit noticeably low. How could you possibly blame her for not revealing sooner that she had known Zeff all this while?

You offered her a candid smile. "Mari, there's no need to apologize. I'm sure you had your reasons. I can only imagine it wasn't an easy thing to share.”

"No, it wasn't," she admitted. "My father was a pirate, and I feared... you all might view me differently."

"My perception of you could never change, you're amazing. I'm sure the others would agree with me. And remember, not all pirates are inherently bad.”

"I know..." She paused, her gaze settling on her half-empty plate. "He was my hero, you see. He had a deep love for the open sea and harbored hopes of finding the One Piece to support our family. He wanted to secure a good life for me.”

You nodded in understanding, listening to her with rapt attention.

"His only flaw," she continued, "was that he was simply too kind-hearted for a pirate.”

"Is that really such a bad thing?" you asked.

Her lips curved into a sorrowful, desolate smile. "That's what led to his downfall.”

Your shoulders sank against the back of the chair, and your fork hung motionless in your hand. “How…?”

She let out a heavy sigh. "As the captain of his ship, he had his unique approach to planning and making deals. Unfortunately, not all members of his crew were in alignment with his vision. It took me a few years to piece it together, but it appears that a faction within his crew turned against him," she revealed.

You shook your head, disbelief creeping into your voice. "Please don't tell me they did what I'm fearing they did.”

"Well, more accurately, the one my father considered his trusted confidante did."

Your jaw slackened in shock. "Wait, he was betrayed and killed by his own right-hand man...?”

Wordlessly, Mari gave a solemn nod of confirmation.

All this while, she had to live with the harrowing knowledge that her father's life wasn't claimed by a tragic sea mishap, but by the very person—more beast than man, you thought—he trusted the most. Never once had she displayed a moment of vulnerability because of that. In fact, you couldn't recall ever seeing her shed a tear, and it made you wonder about the depth of pain she must have kept concealed within for so many years.

"Mari, I'm at a loss for words," you admitted.

"It's okay, Y/N. I appreciate you listening. I feel a great sense of relief now that you know," she said.

"What happened to that scoundrel? Did he just seize control of your father's ship?" you asked.

Mari's expression shifted from somber to a kind of grim satisfaction. "For a short while, yes. But without my father's navigational expertise, he didn't get very far," she stated.

"Did the ship sink?"

"Yes, but he survived. He's languishing in some marine prison now.”

A part of you couldn't help but feel that even imprisonment was too lenient a punishment for someone of his ilk.

"My father and Zeff were good friends. Their paths crossed several times and they held a great deal of respect for each other. When Zeff arrived in the East Blue before opening the Baratie, he sought me out. I didn't know him at the time, but he was so warm and approachable... He couldn't stop talking about how great of a man my father was.”

Zeff was far kinder than he often let on. The manner in which he engaged with you, attentively listening to your story and offering words of support and encouragement, gave you a glimpse into why Sanji found it so difficult to leave and pursue his dream.

"Zeff has always been there for me," Mari continued. "When my grandmother passed away three years ago, he offered me a place here at the Baratie.”

"He did? Why didn't you accept his offer?”

Mari shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't think I'd make a good waitress. Nor a chef, for that matter. No, I was content with my life at home. I wanted to be with you all. You've become my new family.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest. "Aww."

"I’m serious, Y/N. You guys mean the world to me. I'd give my life for you," she stated earnestly.

You were convinced of her resolve, given that she wouldn't have thought twice about shooting your father that night if he had dared to advance even a single step further.

Upon reflection, the pieces began to fall into place. Mari's father was more than just a parent to her - he was a role model, someone she held in high regard and loved deeply. He was a man who returned her affection so profoundly that he didn't hesitate to put his own life on the line to sustain her. In stark contrast, the sight of your own father, who was entirely self-absorbed and exploiting his daughter for political agendas, must have made Mari seethe with anger.

Half-jokingly, you said, "That's great, but please, don't."

The remainder of the day was filled with pure bliss, between multiple courses that left the two of you completely satiated, and leisurely moments enjoyed in the lounge area inside the fish mouth. Mari reverted back to her usual jovial self, cracking jokes and playfully whispering in your ear about how much Sanji had been sneaking glances your way every time he stepped out of the kitchen. She chuckled heartily whenever your cheeks turned a bright shade of red in embarrassment, but you wouldn't trade these serene and heartfelt moments for anything else in the world. As nightfall approached, it was time for Mari to hoist the ship's bracket and set sail, but not before expressing one last thanks to Zeff for his hospitality and for welcoming you into his team.

She enveloped you in a hug so tight that it momentarily took your breath away. And then, as you watched the ship sail off into the distance, you couldn't help but wonder when you would see your friends again. You had never been separated from them for more than a handful of days, and that was the only thing from your homeland you knew you would miss and yearn for.

Zeff adhered to his word and introduced you to the remaining staff members at the end of their shift, gently leading you into the kitchen. While you strived to conceal your anxiety behind a gentle smile, Sanji was already on the front lines, ensuring that no one would act discourteously towards you. Patty, clearly caught off guard to see you there but already acquainted with you, extended a friendly pat on your back as a form of welcome.

Aside from the young, pale waiter who had served you and Christopher during your last visit, the others appeared somewhat apprehensive about your addition to the team. Nevertheless, they each introduced themselves one by one with polite nods or handshakes. The atmosphere was quiet and none of them seemed to treat you with any air of superiority, but you could distinctly sense their uncertainty regarding the skills you were bringing to the table.

In all honesty, you couldn't really fault them. After all, you had initially appeared to them as a noblewoman, garbed in an extravagantly priced dress and wearing high heels—hardly the image of someone who would seamlessly blend into their milieu.

But that was fine. You weren't at all offended and you certainly had no intention of letting their first impressions deter you.

On the other hand, Sanji was as amiable as ever, guiding you to a vacant cabin that Zeff had hastily arranged for your stay. It still needed a bit of work to truly resemble a presentable room, but you didn't mind its current minimalism. It was more than adequate, equipped with a bed, a desk, and even a private bathroom. You had all the time in the world to spruce it up and transform it into a space that reflected your personality.

"Let me know if you need anything, love," he offered, leaning casually against the door frame.

"Thank you, but for now, this is more than I could ask for," you replied gratefully.

Slipping the bag off your shoulder, you noted how light it felt. There was no need to bring your entire wardrobe with you, and given that you were in the middle of the ocean, a large stash of Berries wasn't necessary either. After all, you would gradually earn more through your work.

A fresh work uniform, seemingly tailored to your size, was neatly spread out on the bed. In addition, Zeff had thoughtfully supplied you with a portable Snail Phone, facilitating communication with your friends while away from home. It was astounding how much he had managed to accomplish in just a few hours, and how considerate he was towards you.

When you spun around, you found Sanji observing you quietly, a beautiful smile gracing his features, a sight that caused your heart to skip a beat again.

"What?" you inquired timidly, casually tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'm sorry, beautiful. It's just surreal to think that I'll get to see you every day," he admitted.

"Is that okay?”

"Oh, it's wonderful," he assured you. "I take it things went smoothly back home?"

You hissed through your teeth. "One could say that, yes. They certainly turned out better than expected.”

"You look great," he complimented.

“Really?”

Sanji slid his hands into his trouser pockets. "I mean, you always do. But right now, you seem even more... radiant. Happier, I would say."

You nodded in agreement. "I suppose that's exactly how I feel."

For a moment, much like your previous overnight stay at the Baratie, you both were caught in a silent exchange of glances, and you reveled in the comfort of his presence. If Mari were there, she would undoubtedly encourage you to capitalize on this moment, invite him to stay, and take advantage of the intimate setting to make a more assertive move.

You would be dishonest if you claimed the thought hadn't occurred to you, but it wasn't the appropriate time for such advancements. You required a good night's sleep and an early start, as the last thing you needed was to arrive late and disheveled for your inaugural shift.

That is, assuming he would genuinely consent to being with you in such a capacity.

As you parted your lips to speak, you discovered he did the exact same thing simultaneously, voicing the identical words in flawless unison.

“I should go to sleep.”

“You should go to sleep.”

Both of you laughed at that, casting your eyes downward.

"You should also take some rest," you specified. "You've been working the entire day.”

"I'm used to it," he stated with a quick shrug. "But, I don't wish to keep you up any longer than I already did.”

He eased himself off the wall, adjusting his stance and reaching out for the handle. "See you tomorrow, Y/N. Have sweet dreams.”

You responded with a broad smile. “Good night.”

Once the door shut in front of you and the sound of his footsteps gradually faded into the distance, you exhaled a long, deep breath you hadn't realized you were holding. For a moment, you stood rooted to the spot, surveying your surroundings. Then, suppressing a yawn, you picked up the uniform from the bed and folded it neatly, placing it gently on the chair in front of the wooden table.

You retrieved your nightwear from the bag, disrobing and washing your face before finally yielding to the beckon of the bed. The mattress was comfortable, striking the perfect balance between softness and firmness to ensure a good night's sleep. The pillow was incredibly plush and voluminous, cradling the weight of your head as if it were a cloud. The sheets had a silky feel to them and were imbued with that distinctive, delightful scent of cleanliness. Even though the weather was characteristically warm, you still reveled in the sensation of them against the skin of your thighs.

It didn't take long for you to succumb to sleep as the Baratie quieted with the passage of time. Even the music from the bar had now stilled, and you found tranquility in the soothing sound of the ship bobbing almost imperceptibly in the water.

For the first time, you slept peacefully, undisturbed and without any restlessness throughout your slumber. However, as dawn began to break and your eyes shot open, you discovered your anxiety had returned, amplified, and you found yourself unable to sleep any further despite the early hour.

There was still some time left before your shift officially commenced, but your current state of discomfort prompted you to act proactively and make your way to the kitchen earlier than intended. Thus, you departed the comfort of your bed, got yourself properly ready and donned the white uniform, which seemed to fit your shape and size perfectly, save for the sleeves a tad too long that required a bit of rolling up.

As you exited your room, you made sure to minimize any noise, tiptoeing along the corridor and down the stairs. The ship was hushed, and you could hear the resonating sound of heavy snoring coming from somewhere, echoing through the wooden walls.

The dining room was incredibly spacious, completely vacant and dimly lit. Gently, you pushed the kitchen doors open and stepped inside, immediately greeted by the amalgamated aroma of food lingering in the air. You took the liberty of inspecting the space, checking every drawer and cabinet to memorize the locations of all the utensils. As you walked around, you spotted the grime on the stoves and counters, along with the floor appearing somewhat dull and dusted with flour.

Deciding not to waste another second, you grabbed the broom and rag, setting about diligently scrubbing every inch of the surface, even delving into hidden corners that appeared to have been neglected for quite some time. The tiles transitioned from matte to mirror-like in their polish, which spurred you on to accomplish even more.

Once the floor had dried, you meticulously cleaned the counters, stoves, and cabinets, removing all remaining crumbs, fingerprints, and lingering remnants of food. In a relatively short span of time, the kitchen was transformed, looking nothing like its previous state, and seeming almost brand new again.

As the sun began to fully rise, you prepared a quick breakfast for yourself without sullying the freshly cleaned kitchen, then comfortably settled at the far table to rest your aching back and arms. Zeff and Patty were the first two to arrive, and you suppressed a smile at their shocked expressions upon seeing their workplace in such a neat and tidy condition.

Rising to your feet, you crossed your hands behind your back in a polite, professional stance. Once again, you were engulfed by nervousness, but you had become adept at hiding it.

"Good morning, sir. Patty.”

Zeff's eyes widened as he noticed your presence. "Ah. You're here already.”

"Yes, I've been here for the past two hours. I took the liberty of cleaning things up in the meantime, I hope that's okay.”

You could discern the hint of a smile forming beneath his large mustache. "Oh, you did, did you? Good job. Did you manage to get any sleep?”

You nodded in response. "Yes, sir.”

"Would you look at that!" Patty exclaimed as he headed to his station. "I've never seen the stove so shiny before!”

His enthusiasm was infectious, and also quite flattering.

With the continuous cycle of cooking, maintaining a spotless environment seemed an uphill battle. Yet, cleaning was an activity you found gratifying enough to repeat, and that always brought you immense satisfaction. The process of eradicating dirt to unveil the hidden beauty underneath held a peculiar charm for you. It was as though you viewed it like a powerful metaphor, one that deeply resonated with you.

Zeff placed his hands on his hips, looking at you with a sense of pride. "Since you have a knack for it, the dining tables could do with some scraping," he suggested.

You knew he wasn't attempting to pigeonhole you into being the hub of their ship. Instead, he recognized and appreciated the contentment you derived from your accomplishments.

In fact, his request only broadened your grin further, and within seconds, you were already brandishing a damp cloth, primed for use. "Consider it done, sir!”

You inspected every single table on both floors to ensure none fell short of looking their best. Sanji found you engrossed in beautifying them, adorning them with flowers and straightening the tablecloths. Coming across him in the morning, complemented by his charming, radiant smile, added yet another delightful dimension to your new lifestyle at the Baratie. The manner in which he wore his jacket drew your admiration - every meticulous finger movement as he secured each button, the way they flexed and bent.

Their appeal amplified throughout the day, as he skillfully crafted meals for the various courses at the restaurant, from brunch to late dinners. Adhering strictly to Zeff's menu turned out to be a hurdle, as his inherent creativity frequently emerged, compelling him to add his own ingredients or personal touches. Zeff harbored a distinct preference for Oregano, a viewpoint Sanji did not share and referred to it as a seasoning for savages. Being a spectator to their animated debates was a source of amusement, ensuring that your shift was devoid of any boredom or fatigue.

As time unfolded, the rest of the team seemed to ease and unwind in your presence, noting your diligence in dishwashing and your quick response to any given instructions. It didn't take long for you to navigate your way around the kitchen, given your sudden familiarity with every corner and crevice of it.

And just like that, you showcased your inherent worth for the first time, concluding your shift with aching feet and weary shoulders.

The simple yet profound joy of sitting in the kitchen with Sanji, a warm cup of tea in your hands, was unparalleled. The sheer joy it brought you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced in your past roles. Back then, your presence was barely recognized by your superiors and coworkers, unless they wanted you to scurry around, fulfilling orders from one corner of the office (or building) to another. You were but a dolly at their mercy, with no room to voice your opinions or confront them, enslaved both at home and in the workplace.

The Baratie, in stark contrast, was nothing like that.

Interrupting your train of thoughts, Sanji asked, "How do you feel, my lovely?”

Somehow, every time he used those endearing terms, it made your knees go weak.

"This is incredible, truly" you replied genuinely. "I'm not used to this level of consideration. You all made me feel as a part of your team today.”

"Because you are. You work with us now, you're going to live here.”

"I know. Sometimes I feel like this is just a dream, and that the moment I wake up, I'll realize none of it was real.”

"Trust me love, if this weren't real, I would be disappointed."

You laughed lightly. "If this is a dream, then you would simply disappear.”

"What if I blink and you vanish in front of me?" He questioned. "Because you are the one who looks like a dream to me.”

As you delicately tasted your tea, your hands hung briefly in mid-air. Sanji was adorned with his characteristic, spontaneous grin that you had grown familiar with and already treasured. His unfeigned way of conveying his sentiments was a quality you found distinctly admirable.

You swallowed the warm liquid, gently placing the mug back down. "Smooth," you commented.

If such words had been spoken by Christopher, or anyone else thrust into your life, you would have been repelled. But Sanji was a man brimming with chivalry, a characteristic that seemed to have been lost in time.

And yet, in truth, he remained a complete enigma. Beyond his work at the Baratie, his culinary passion, and his dream of unearthing the All Blue, you knew nothing about him.

For a moment, you were spellbound by his smile, until your burgeoning curiosity became too strong to hold back, taking the reins.

"Hey Sanji, can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything," he promptly replied, his gaze meeting yours again.

"What did you do before meeting Zeff? Where do you come from?" you asked, eager to peel back the layers surrounding his past.

The sudden veil of gloom that descended upon his eyes didn't escape your notice. For a moment, you experienced a twinge of remorse, tempted to take back your words and hold your tongue.

"I come from the North Blue," he replied, seeming distant. "I didn't stay there for long. My quest for a new life as a cook eventually led me to a position aboard a ship.”

You couldn't help but notice the conspicuous ambiguity in the details of his story.

"So, your family stayed in the North Blue?" you probed further, hoping to glean more.

Sanji began to fidget with his lighter, absentmindedly flicking its cap open and closed.

"My father and my siblings. As for my mother... she passed away many years ago.”

"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that," you expressed softly. “That must have been incredibly hard for you.”

“Thank you, love. But I'm okay," he reassured, his usual positivity returning to his face.

He was certainly elusive, which only validated the likelihood of him wrestling with a turbulent past, much like your own. Perhaps even more intensively.

"You... you didn't have a good relationship with your family either, did you?"

You hadn't really planned to verbalize that question. However, as soon as the query sprouted in your mind, it escaped from your lips without any form of restraint.

"Why do you say that…?" he inquired, surprise reflected in his eyes.

"Oh, uhm.... just a hunch," you quickly clarified, your voice carrying a trace of embarrassment. "But please, don't feel obligated to talk about it if you're not comfortable.”

Sanji seemed to be immersed in deep thought, his eyes on you, yet seemingly engrossed in a completely separate world. Then, they lit up again, morphing his countenance into one of delightful sweetness.

"It's fine. I don't usually talk about this, but... I believe you deserve an explanation.”

He drew a deep breath, resuming the flicking motion on his lighter. "Much like you, I also didn't want to conform to my family's values. They viewed me as someone lacking in combat prowess.”

A part of you was swept by a wave of shock from such a declaration, causing you to blink subconsciously a few times.

"My ex-fiancé would strongly disagree with that," you asserted.

He chuckled. "I was just a child back then, love.”

"Well, no one should expect a child to be a combat prodigy.”

What kind of family would desire for an innocent child to become a killing machine?

Yet again, given the extent of your own father's brutality towards you, you shouldn't have been particularly surprised.

"My family is... unique," he elucidated. "I made a conscious choice to uphold principles of kindness and reverence for life, placing my culinary interests above everything else.”

"And it's fortunate that you did. I highly doubt anyone else could cook the way you do.”

Your words were clearly inflating his ego, as evidenced by the smug smirk that started to form on his face.

"Sanji, you made the right choice. Unlike me, you had the courage to stand up for yourself and leave at such a young age.”

You perceived that his story was far more intricate than he had revealed, but for the time being, you found it adequate to understand his motivations. Intriguingly, though for completely different reasons, it appeared that both of you had endured a comparable degree of adversity.

Perhaps there was an additional motive driving him to assist you. It might not have been solely out of genuine respect for you as a woman, but something more - a familiar element he identified as a gross injustice.

"Nah, dealing with all that for so long only made you stronger," he pointed out. "Y/N, you have no idea how truly incredible you are.”

Although he had a reputation as a charmer, you recognized that his sentiment wasn't mere shallow flattery designed to captivate you. No, Sanji truly meant each word he said. He was acknowledging you, the genuine you, in a way that no one else had ever managed to do.

Silently, you moved to touch the hand that was still holding onto his lighter. He let go of the item as your fingers reached out, taking his hand with a grip that was gentle, but definitively steady and devoid of any doubt.

"Thank you for saying that," you whispered softly. "It turns out we have a few things in common.”

There was more to your connection than just your interweaved histories, each shadowed by family expectations that had seemed overwhelming since infancy. If Sanji viewed you as such an extraordinary person, he was even more so himself. He surpassed any other man you had ever encountered, and in that moment, you could no longer overlook the burgeoning emotions of affection you were starting to nurture for him.

Because it was undeniably the truth. You were falling in love with Sanji, regardless of where that journey might lead you.

"Of course, love," he responded, with an assuredness as if it was the most natural thing in the world, yet somewhat shyly reciprocating your gesture, enveloping your warm fingers within his grip.

Observing it, your hand suddenly appeared so small compared to his.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this as well. I don't know your family, and I'm not entirely sure what kind of fighting skills they expected you to master. But, from my perspective, you're as exceptional on the battlefield as you are in the kitchen.”

The manner in which he conquered your former fiancé, employing those fluid leg movements, was still etched in your memory.

“You flatter me.”

You shrugged. "It's something that had to be done.”

"I adore your straightforwardness.”

'And I adore you,' you silently confessed to yourself.

Silently, you reached for your mug again, taking a sip of your tea without releasing his hand. He maintained a firm grasp, even starting a gentle movement with his thumb, softly stroking your knuckles. You could feel the spark, the connection, the mutual comprehension between both of you.

Only when the noise of Zeff's peg leg resonated in your ears, did you quickly part from each other and clear your throat. You downed the rest of your tea in one noticeable gulp, standing from your chair to move towards the sink. Zeff squinted, sensing the suddenly tense ambiance, and repeatedly shifted his gaze between you and Sanji. As you cleaned the mug, he kept silent, merely waiting for you to finish and taking off his hat.

"Aye, that's enough for today," he remarked, observing the immaculate state of the kitchen once more.

"Do you require anything else, sir?" You asked.

"Call me Zeff. And no, you've done more than was asked of you. It's time for you to take a break and rest.”

With a final smile, you nodded and set the dried mug down. You felt the watchful eyes of both men on you, observing your every move as you stepped away.

"And Y/N," Zeff added, invoking your name, "You've done an excellent job.”

You almost blushed at the compliment, a gesture you weren't typically accustomed to receiving. "Thank you, sir-Zeff. I'll see you tomorrow.”

"Avoid showing up as early as you did this morning. I want you to get some sleep.”

It wasn't a reproach, rather a gentle suggestion stemming from his kindness.

With your hand leaning against the one of the doors, you turned around, a wide smile unfurling on your face. "I'm afraid I can't make any promises.”

Zeff's mustache twitched upwards as he chuckled, finding amusement within himself.

And with that, you were on your way, climbing the stairs towards your cabin, undoing the buttons of your jacket as feelings of pride, joy, and satisfaction washed over your heart.

Days slipped into weeks, and before you even realized it, you had seamlessly integrated into the team and were experiencing the highest level of job satisfaction you'd ever felt.

Your responsibilities were varied and all of equal significance. You cleaned, you washed, you provided assistance, and sometimes, with surges of confidence, you even ventured out to take orders from the customers. Zeff never found it necessary to aid you or assign you a specific task, as you were resourceful enough to take initiative on your own. Was someone too occupied cooking three different meals and couldn't leave the stove? You were there to hand over any needed ingredients or supplies from the cabinets. Did a dish accidentally tumble and shatter all over the floor? It was no issue at all, as it only took you a few minutes to restore the tiles to their pristine condition.

Contrary to what anyone might have anticipated, you also worked seamlessly with Sanji, despite the tangible attraction that lingered in the air. You were incredibly harmonized, always aligned and coordinating impeccably. With your presence in the kitchen, Sanji seemed to exhibit heightened meticulousness and skills, although the animated exchanges with Zeff continued to be a common event.

You valued the way he appreciated everything you did, even dashing over to you if he thought you might have inadvertently burned yourself or nicked a finger. At times, he could be slightly overprotective, but his ample attentiveness was the highlight of your day, day in and day out.

You lost track of the times Mari had squealed in your ear, whenever you mentioned that nothing had occurred between you and Sanji. She was essentially your cheerleader, anxiously anticipating the moment you could finally admit that you had spent the night together. Admittedly, there were countless chances for you to invite him over, or even just steal a kiss during the infrequent moments of privacy you managed to secure. However, Sanji never took that bold step forward, and you certainly didn't have the bravery to make the first move yourself.

A part of you still wrestled with insecurity, suspecting that his kindness and casual flirtation were nothing more than platonic jest.

One day, a particularly disheartening situation occurred that only served to amplify your doubts about him. As you moved to and fro in the dining room, cleaning up the vacant tables and setting them anew, you overheard two girls conversing near the restroom, casually chatting while holding cigarettes between their impeccably manicured fingers.

"That guy is so attractive, don't you think?”

"You mean the blond one? What's his name... Sanji?”

Your ears perked up, and you deliberately slowed your movements, feigning the need to smooth out a few wrinkles in the tablecloth.

"Exactly. I think he's attracted to me.”

Your heart plummeted.

"To be fair, he seemed taken with all the beautiful women in the room.”

You shifted to another table, a bit further away but still within hearing distance of the two ladies. You were aware that Sanji exhibited a distinct kindness, as he also did towards your mother, Mari, and Rory when they visited the Baratie. Nevertheless, you couldn't dispel the notion that you were simply one among many, another girl for him to charm for entertainment and to make his work hours more enjoyable.

You knew deep down that your relationship was distinct, that he never misled you and truly relished your company. Yet, there was a persistent voice in your head that insisted on caution.

"Well yes, but did you notice the way he looked at me?”

"Like he wanted to devour you? Yeah, I noticed that a bit."

The glass you were holding almost slipped from your grasp, and you exhaled a sigh of relief the moment you managed to steady it against your chest.

"I'll try to snag a private moment with him. Then we'll see who's devouring who.”

Their laughter felt like a sharp stab, and you couldn't stomach to stay and overhear any longer. You collected as much as you could from the tables, retreating to the kitchen with a sinking feeling as your stomach churned into an uneasy knot.

For the remainder of the day, your mind was elsewhere, and although you resisted the urge to act childishly and sulk, you still found it difficult to stand next to Sanji. Naturally, he remained completely oblivious, cracking jokes and smiling at you in a way that momentarily soothed your troubled heart, only for it to be stung again as soon as you recalled the woman's words.

You couldn't even bear to look at him as you withdrew to your cabin at the end of your shift, collapsing into a dejected ball on your bed. Mari, of course, highlighted the folly in your behavior, trusting a stranger's baseless assertions more than Sanji himself. She had a point, you conceded, but the longer you worked at the Baratie, the harder it became for you to be around him without any progress in your relationship.

"I'm telling you, Y/N, you need to get your head out of your butt,” she voiced through the snail phone.

"Well, thank you.”

"Look, I love you, but you're driving me up the wall. What exactly are you waiting for? Do you really want to play the innocent until some other woman swoops in and snatches him away?”

"It's not that simple. We work together, and Zeff watches us the whole time.”

She snickered. "Of course he does. Do you honestly expect him to be fine with you two going at it like rabbits in his kitchen?”

"Mari, what the hell!! I never said that!”

The sound of her wheezing laughter managed to coax a smile onto your face, and you found your nightly conversations with her absolutely indispensable at that point.

"All I’m saying is that you should really give this a shot. What's the worst that could result from it?”

You lay down in frustration, shielding your eyes with the back of your arm. "Looking like a total fool if he rejects me? Getting my heart broken? Having to work alongside him every day after that?”

She sighed. "So what? It's not the end of the world. I understand you like him, but it is what it is. If he rejects you, which I seriously doubt he would, you are strong enough to move on and continue with your job. At least you'd know where you stand.”

You knew your friend was speaking the truth. As hard as it might be, knowing the truth would certainly be better than constantly questioning yourself every single day.

But the fact of the matter was, you deeply cherished your friendship with Sanji. The last thing you wanted was to jeopardize it and create a tense atmosphere in your workplace if things took a turn for the worse.

"Mari, I'm not sure. I think the best course of action for me is to just be a good coworker without holding any expectations.”

She grunted. "Are you freaking kidding me?”

"I'm not like you. I wish I could be stronger and just as bold as you are, but I can't.”

Mari fell silent, and for a moment, you thought the line had accidentally dropped.

“Mari? Are you still there?”

She let out a sigh, but this time it was shaky, laden with sadness, brimming with emotions.

"Y/N, if there's anything my dad has taught me, it's that we only live once in this crazy world. Life is unpredictable, and in the current age, the things we have today might be completely gone tomorrow. All we'll be left with then is regret.”

You sat up straight, repositioning the snail phone in your ear, and listened in silence.

"I understand that I can come off as a bit harsh at times, but I practically grew up on my own. Since my grandmother passed away, I've had to make every single decision for myself, without anyone dictating what's right or wrong. I'm used to going after what I want, and I take risks knowing that they might not work out. But at least that gives me some peace of mind.”

Her words, somehow, stirred up emotions within you, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You had always been so absorbed in your own troubles, consumed with your frustrations against your father and the way your family treated you, that you overlooked the fact that she was completely alone, shouldering everyone's burdens without any questions or complaints.

"I'm not going to dictate what you should do, this is your life we're talking about. But whatever you and Sanji share at this moment, it's unique for you and likely for him too. Even if you're not destined to end up together, even if you remain just friends or mere coworkers, why would you want to miss out on the chance of experiencing happiness, even if it's only for one night?”

Upon further reflection, her perspective appeared to be faultless. You weren't yet sure about what you wanted from Sanji, and you unquestionably understood you couldn't change his character or the way he interacted with women. You were always the one being taken advantage of, treated as a showpiece to be paraded around, and now your fear of Sanji just trifling with your feelings intensified as your affection for him grew.

"Thank you, Mari. I appreciate your honesty.”

You heard the smile in her voice through the snail phone. "Just give it some thought, okay? You know I only want what's best for you.”

“I do.”

And so, the moment you ended the call and put the device away, as soon as you readied yourself for sleep and turned off the lights, you made a promise to yourself not to let your past interfere again. Even if Sanji offered his charming smile to someone else out of courtesy, even if he enjoyed being flirtatious and treating all women equally, you couldn't deny the fact that he genuinely cared for you and liked you as an individual. He always made sure that you had everything you needed at the Baratie, that you never felt isolated or overlooked. He acted as a guardian, a protector, a figurative cornerstone for your stability. Above all, he was a remarkable man brimming with virtues, one who liked to dream big, but chose to stick to his current routine for reasons you weren’t quite fully aware of.

Regardless of the outcome, you resolved to nurture this relationship and see where it would take you.

As you drifted off to sleep, your thoughts meandered to the woman in the restaurant who was intent on securing some alone time with the man you were interested in. Your lips curled into a satisfied beam at the simple fact that she had to depart unfulfilled.

As more days passed, your inner turmoil appeared to have quieted down. You thoroughly enjoyed your time at the Baratie more and more as it kept you active and facilitated great teamwork, along with a few valuable lessons directly from Sanji or Zeff himself. Apparently, you had risen significantly in the old man's esteem when you detected a piece of meat that had been stashed away and was clearly turning bad. With your enhanced sense of smell, you were consistently aware of the terrible stench of decay in the air, which no one else seemed to take seriously. Your persistence and unique ability earned you further praise and appreciation, which only served to make your job far more gratifying than you had anticipated.

Zeff never specifically instructed you to cook, but you could tell that he wanted to broaden your knowledge and help you memorize things that might come in handy in case of emergencies. You enjoyed preparing food and experimenting with it, but as someone who had never made any complex dish for a large group of people, you were content with merely assisting the experts around you.

It's not like you didn't have enough to carry out, anyway. The pile of plates, glasses, and cutlery in the sink wouldn't clean itself, and you had become quite proficient at creating accurate inventories based on what the team already possessed or would require in the near future. It was exhausting, but you loved every moment of what you did, as there was nothing more satisfying than feeling indispensable.

Unfortunately, your resolve was not as robust as you had believed it to be.

During lunch, you were carefully arranging dishes onto a silver tray, strategically positioning them in a way that would allow you to carry everything back to the kitchen without the entire load tumbling onto the floor. The large pillar in front of you was keeping you hidden and tucked away from the newcomers entering the restaurant, but as destiny would have it, the sound of those voices was unmistakable and impossible to overlook.

Your blood turned icy cold, and your body stiffened to the point where you thought you had lost all ability to move. Your hands trembled, and you had to let go of the tray to avoid accidentally tipping it over.

Your parents were there, casually dropping by as if nothing had ever happened, being ushered by the fish-man to a distant table for two. From your vantage point, you could see your father glancing around before taking a seat and perusing the open menu in front of him. You immediately put two and two together, deducing that he was simply hoping to catch sight of you among the gathering crowd.

Your breathing escalated, and your face was likely turning as pale as the tablecloths in the dining area. What led them to the Baratie? Had they decided to drop in simply to relish the high-quality food, or was there another, more personal reason that filled you with a sense of dread just at the thought of it?

It took you a moment to notice Sanji next to you, calling your name and immediately expressing concern for your sudden state of shock.

"Y/N? Are you okay?”

When you met his face, Sanji's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"They're here," you whispered, eyes wide open, now fixated on the back of your mother’s head.

Sanji's gaze roamed across the room, finally resting on your parents' table. His lips narrowed into a thin line, his hands idly positioned on his hips as he fell into deep contemplation. There was no need for words, because he knew. No matter the distance you had traveled since your departure from your hometown, the scars left by that man's actions were indelible.

And he, more than anyone else, could comprehend that depth of pain.

You took a step back, gripped by terror. "They've come all the way here for me.”

"Hey, look at me, beautiful.”

Gently, he placed his hands on your shoulders, attempting to divert your attention from the painful memories. "You don't know that. Maybe they just came to eat.”

"No, it’s not that. I ruined my father’s career and political ambitions. I was naive to think he would just let me go.”

With Admiral Wheeler on your side, you anticipated a sense of discretion, a restraint in their pursuit of you. Desperate and anxious, you glanced from one side to the other, inhaling and exhaling as if you were gasping for air.

"Y/N, calm down, I'm right here with you.”

He cupped your face, his warm hands pressing against your cheeks, affording you a brief respite to draw some calming breaths. His eyes, hypnotic and near-magical, softened as he brushed away a loose strand of hair.

"You're not alone. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Your hands clung to his elbows with desperate entreaty, begging for his assistance. "Keep him away from me. Please.”

He smiled. "As if you even need to ask.”

Gradually, you succumbed to the warmth of his touch, quelling the resurgent fears that threatened to consume you.

"Stay in the kitchen, don't come out until they've left.”

"I was supposed to set the tables...”

Sanji shook his head, beginning to undo his uniform, and handing you his jacket with the most tender expression you'd ever seen. "I'll handle it, love. Just stay in there.”

"Wait, you can't be serious. You hate being a waiter.”

"For you, I could be anything," he replied, giving a playful wink before heading out into the dining hall.

You remained still, vigilantly avoiding notice, as you watched Sanji roll up his sleeves, readying himself to clear the tables of the remnants of prior meals. You saw your father's attention divert to him, and he muttered something to your mother who, in response, looked at the chef curiously and nodded her head in acknowledgment.

Sanji remained unfazed, extending only a brief, polite smile towards your mother, which quickly morphed into a frown directed at your father, a silent admonition hanging in the air. You noticed the man’s skin take on its usual reddish hue, a telltale sign of his anger, and how his wife skillfully kept him in check with a light squeeze on his wrist.

A part of you wasn't sure whether to find humor in the scene or worry over your father's short fuse. Christopher, despite his years of training and muscular stature, was tamed rather easily. Your father wouldn't stand a chance against Sanji's agile and powerful kicks.

Before retreating back to the kitchen, you succumbed to the temptation of pressing your nose into Sanji’s jacket, inhaling his unique scent. You could distinctly identify it amidst the remnants of spices—nutmeg, clove, and a touch of black pepper—, with that underlying note of sandalwood, and a hint of fresh, clean citrus. There was also a faint hint of tobacco, a testament to his ever-present cigarette, which blended with the other scents to create a smoky undertone that wasn't overpowering but rather contributed to his allure.

As outlandish as it may seem, that alone was enough to anchor you.

Under Sanji's vigilant eyes, you felt an unshakeable belief that you were safe from harm. There was comfort in knowing your parents would soon leave after their meal, and a future encounter was unlikely in the near term. All you needed to do was hold on a bit longer, continue performing your duties impeccably, and not let their presence destabilize the life you had painstakingly built for yourself.

You were so mistaken.

Over the next several hours, your mind became wholly occupied with your tasks, allowing you to forget about your parents having lunch nearby. Sanji had retreated to the kitchen, reverting to his role as sous chef, while you meticulously attended to cleaning stoves, pans, and silverware in between courses. You found solace in the routine assignments that had become your refuge. Each dish you cleaned, each pot you scrubbed, offered a momentary escape from the memories of your past and the oppressive grip of your family's ambitions.

The frequent glances you exchanged with Sanji were incredibly soothing. The smiles, the affirmative nods, the gentle brushes of fingers against your back whenever he passed close to you. All your fears had dissipated, replaced by a wonderful sense of protection, security, and care.

Knowing your father's lack of restraint and common sense, however, you should have known better than to celebrate too soon.

The lively chatter of patrons outside soon transformed into a curious murmur, as everyone could hear the shouts of someone making demands and growing increasingly irate with the negative responses from the staff. It all occured in a sequence; the commanding insistence on being left undisturbed, the determination to call you out from your seclusion, the stomping in the dining area that intensified and grew louder as the unruly man outside approached the kitchen. You couldn't even brace yourself for what was coming, because the moment the doors swung open, your father appeared like an unwelcome storm, disrupting the harmony of the space.

Disregarding the restaurant's rules and the basic etiquette one should show towards the employees, as soon as he spotted you with an apron and a wet dish in your hand, his features blazed with fury.

"I knew I'd find you here," he spat out, his voice oozing with contempt as his glare locked onto yours.

You stood frozen at the sink, your hands still submerged in soapy water, your face pale.

"Is this what you wanted? To be a damn scullery maid for the rest of your life?”

The kitchen fell into silence, your coworkers watching the unexpected confrontation with a blend of shock and worry. Your father moved closer, his expression a contorted mix of smugness and rage. "Well, it's not surprising," he continued, his voice a derisive sneer. "After all, it's not as if you could aspire to anything better.”

Sanji intervened at that moment, his demeanor cool but his eyes filled with silent anger. He positioned himself between you and your father, his stance protective. "That's enough," he stated, his voice quiet but exuding an undeniable authority. "You have no right to speak to her like that.”

The man scoffed, glaring at Sanji with even more repulsion. "And here's the knight in shining armor. This isn't any of your business, boy.”

Sanji met your father's menacing tone without hesitation, his resolve remaining firm and unshaken. "You are in our restaurant, right in our kitchen, showing disrespect to one of ours. We treat everyone as family here, so yes, it is my business sir. If you have any complaints, you can take them outside.”

The corners of your mouth lifted slightly at Sanji's defensive words. His broad shoulders and wide back served as a barrier, effectively isolating you from the relentless monster.

"She’s my daughter," your father emphasized. "I have every right to speak to her as I see fit.”

Sanji took a deep breath, stepping forward just as your mother burst through the doors, imploring her husband to cease his actions. Surprisingly, for the first time, she appeared reluctant to stir up a commotion in a public place.

The tension in the room was tangible, as various team members instinctively reached for whatever was at hand, be it knives or pans. Patty's slicing blade was particularly alarming.

You couldn't let the situation escalate and descend into complete chaos. They all deserved far more than such a tense and hostile atmosphere.

Still clutching the damp plate, you reached for Sanji's upper arm and stepped out from behind him, offering a reassuring nod to indicate that you could manage the situation independently. He was hesitant, yet chose to honor your decision, giving you sufficient room to proceed while maintaining a close proximity to you.

Your eyes held a hollow darkness as you regarded the man as if he were a total stranger, an insignificant bug to be squashed. "This isn't the place for you, sir. I respectfully request that you settle your bill and leave the Baratie immediately.”

You hadn't anticipated his retreat and compliance, yet his cackling response to your professional, albeit intimidating intervention, caused your grip on the plate to tighten even further.

"Do you really believe you're superior to me? Look at yourself, washing dishes like the utter failure that you are.”

Facing such humiliation once again, especially in front of Sanji and your colleagues, made you feel incredibly small and miserable. The last thing you wanted was to introduce your family drama into your new life, and even less so, your workplace.

You held your tongue, as none of your thoughts were suitable for the setting you were in. You refrained from mocking him for wanting to thrust you into an even grimmer lifestyle by marrying you off to a marine and relegating you to household chores. You didn't rebuke him for being such a disastrous parent that he made you wish you had never been born too many times, either.

The plate was creaking. You could have let it go, but you required something, anything, to clutch at, a physical outlet for your escalating frustration and the biting retorts you were forced to suppress.

“Y/N does a remarkable job,” Sanji interjected.

"In what, cleaning? That's merely part of her training."

Your mother tried to pull the man's arm to lead him away, but your father jerked violently, nearly causing her to stumble backward.

"After all the efforts I've made to educate you, to secure a decent life for you.”

Your jaw set.

"The reality is, everyone would be better off without your pathetic existence.”

The plate splintered in your hands, fragments of ceramic scattering on the floor. It was a mystery how you managed to keep your composure, as for the first time, you felt a powerful urge to physically assault your own father, to land a blow so severe it would render his face unrecognizable.

You could feel your heartbeat pulsating in your eardrums, your palm enclosing a single, sharp fragment of the plate.

"What the bloody hell is going on in my kitchen?”

The moment Zeff arrived, your mother let out a startled yelp, while your father barely acknowledged the head chef, his gaze fixated provocatively on you. It was as if he was anticipating, even baiting a response from you. So engrossed was he in his perverse motivations and aspirations, he would have accepted harm if it meant seeing you confined within the walls of a Marine prison.

It would have been the ideal retaliation against you. His despicability truly knew no bounds.

"This place is not a tourist attraction. Get out.”

Zeff was incensed, his irritation amplified by seeing your unsettled mental state, and the blood dribbling from a gash in your hand, to which you appeared entirely unaware.

"Oh, I'm leaving," your father retorted. "And she's coming with me.”

Sanji moved again, barring the brash man from advancing further. However, Zeff had already run out of patience, extracting his pistol and aiming it at your father's head. "Seems like my message wasn't clear. Allow me to clarify.”

Terrified, your mother gasped, pleading with her husband to relent and withdraw. For a moment, he didn't even blink, but the visible swallow and the sweat beading on his forehead were clear indicators of his rising blood pressure due to fear.

Zeff's hand clamped around his collar, and with a rough tug, he forced your father to his knees, causing him to wince. The cold barrel of the ex-pirate's weapon remained unmoved, pressing even harder against his temple.

"Now listen here, Scallywag. She's part of my crew and she won't be going anywhere with you, or anyone else incapable of showing her the respect she deserves. Do you understand?”

Your father nodded frenetically, casting one last repulsed look at you, before being hurled like garbage towards the entrance.

“Now pay and get the hell out of here.”

Your father had so much he wanted to articulate. You could see the resistence, the way his lips moved to form words but closed again. Eventually, he simply pulled himself up, brushed down his jacket, and stormed out of the kitchen with his pride in tatters.

Your mother heaved a sigh of relief, but contrary to your expectations, she didn't promptly follow him. She twirled her fingers, toyed with her purse, and gnawed on her lower lip anxiously.

When she looked at you, she seemed completely drained, hollow and dissatisfied.

"Y/N, for what it's worth, I... I regret that it had to come to this.”

She had never once stood up for you since the day you were born, always adhering to your father's dictates, punishments, and mentality. No matter what she had to say, regardless of any apology, you had no intention of hearing another word.

"Zeff has told you to get out," you declared frostily, regarding her with a mixture of loathing and indifference.

She stammered, her eyes brimming with tears, before muttering more sentiments that you had no desire to take in.

"I-I.... I understand that you're upset. Your father can overreact sometimes, you know how he is," she chuckled nervously. "But, you see, everything he's done.... i-it was for your own good.”

For your own good.

If you had believed that nothing could provoke you more than your father's deeds or utterances, you now realized there was no ceiling to the bitterness you could experience.

The vitriol welling on your tongue was scorching, burning you from the inside. “GET OUT!!!”

Your own voice was unrecognizable to you as you released a scream so intense that it made your mother recoil, panting with her hand over her chest. Sanji strengthened his hold on your wrist and softly stroked the back of your neck several times, helping to soothe your tension and prompting you to let go of the ceramic shard that was clearly inflicting damage on your skin.

In a flash, she was gone, the clacking of her heels against the floor fading as she scurried away, the kitchen doors swaying back and forth until they finally settled.

Deep inside, the wounds you believed were finally starting to mend had been savagely torn open again. Your parents had left, the ordeal was over, you were safe and sound. And yet, you could feel that familiar, ominous shadow enveloping you.

How were you supposed to face your colleagues now, feeling their eyes on you as if you were a pitiful, helpless child?

Sanji's fingers interlaced with yours, and the fragment of the broken plate finally dropped, uniting with the rest on the tiled floor below. Upon examining your palm, you noticed a long, horizontal laceration that was bleeding quite profusely, but it didn't appear especially severe. Truthfully, you couldn't even feel it.

Zeff exhaled in annoyance, but his displeasure wasn't aimed at you in the slightest. He placed a hand on your shoulder, studying your face as you strived to revive the vitality in your body, and signalled Sanji to guide you out and attend to your injury.

"Everyone back to work," he ordered. "Now's not the time to slack off.”

Patty turned away, his expression etched with sorrow for what he had just witnessed, while the rest of the crew silently resumed their duties, the room falling in a disquieting silence.

"Follow me, sweetheart,” Sanji voiced softly, doing his utmost to prevent you from spiraling into a well of self-pity.

Regrettably, it was already too late for that.

"The floor is stained," you observed, looking at the red droplets that had seeped from your cut.

"Are you seriously worrying about that now?" Zeff asked, a note of amusement creeping into his question.

"It is my fault. Let me just clean that up first-”

"No, no, no. Go with Little Eggplant and attend to your hand. That's an order.”

His eyes mirrored the depth of the sprawling sea, and the smile unfurling beneath his mustache was so sincere it stirred a flurry of emotions within your heart.

The people in the dining area had picked up their conversations, engaging in chatter and enjoying their meals without any disruptions. Your breathing was unsteady, and your legs felt as wobbly as jelly the moment you made your way upstairs to Sanji's cabin. He rummaged through a wooden box, pulling out a strip of gauze and a bottle of disinfectant, signaling for you to take a seat on his bed.

You wondered if he had ever cut or burned himself while cooking over the years, but given the flawless state of his hands, you surmised that he kept these items purely as a precaution now.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out, watching him attentively clean your wound and wind the soft fabric around your hand.

“What for? You haven't done anything wrong.”

“I thought I had finally escaped that mess. But it seems you can never truly outrun your past.” Your eyes clamped shut in defeat, forcing back the impending tears. "I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble.”

"You didn’t cause any trouble, my dear.”

The fact he constantly supported you, safeguarding you from all the adverse impacts your family and ex had imposed on their restaurant, was both comforting and unsettling. Although you weren't directly liable for those public disruptions, simply being connected to them was enough to burden you with a feeling of responsibility.

"They came here because of me. Because of my actions back home,” you surmised.

"And what did you do, aside from liberating yourself from that oppressive shitbag?”

For a moment, you had to suppress a laugh at Sanji's blunt insult. He was so infuriated, so profoundly impacted as though the criticisms were personally directed at him.

Clearing his throat, he quickly corrected himself, "My apologies. I shouldn’t say that.”

"It’s fine. He is a shitbag through and through.”

Sanji's shoulders sagged, and his eyebrows furrowed together. "I couldn't bear the way he was badmouthing you.”

You responded with a shrug. "I'm used to it. I just wished this was a bygone tale, you know.”

Now that your palm was duly treated and bandaged, you could feel the sting as your skin tugged and brushed against the fabric.

“Trust me, love. I know.”

The way he said it, so honestly and with a melancholic smile that starkly contrasted his usual positivity and radiance, suggested that he, too, bore a substantial burden from his past experiences that he wrestled with each passing day.

Your friends often marveled at the fact that you turned out to be a sheer miracle, considering the harsh treatment you were subjected to since childhood, describing you as the rarest of gems. But now, you realized that you weren’t the only one, because Sanji was equally wondrous and dazzling, a beautiful flower blooming in the harshest of terrains.

You were like two kindred spirits, encountering each other amidst the storm you were fleeing from, as he waited for you with an outstretched hand in the rainbow.

Or at least, you preferred to perceive it that way, even if it might just be your mind concocting vivid notions of something that wasn't actually there.

With Sanji holding your hand, tenderly caressing your cheekbone, and allowing his forehead to graze against yours, you found yourself wishing you could push everything else out of your mind. His nearness was incredibly intense, and when his lips unintentionally ended up a tad too close, barely parting as if inviting you in, your heart raced uncontrollably.

Mari's words echoed in your head, and for a fleeting moment, you almost lost control and succumbed to the urge to kiss him. But despite the powerful longing that rocked you to your core, irrespective of how alluring his lips seemed, and how his breath vitalized you, you ultimately concluded that the timing was not right. You were in a vulnerable state, seeking solace and reinforcement. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel pressured, and for you to leverage your vulnerabilities as a crutch for such a significant step.

You didn't approach the act of kissing a man lightly. You were aware it was a bit cliché and overly romantic, but you always relied on that perfect instant to show up; the one that would send your stomach into a flutter of butterflies and fill your chest with a refreshing sense of peace.

And so, in spite of everything your body was suggesting, you disengaged from him.

Sanji appeared disheartened when you withdrew your hand and sat up straight, effectively creating distance from his face. Nevertheless, his smile promptly returned, leading you to hastily assume that you had merely imagined it.

"I think I understand where your chivalry comes from," you stated, lightly running your fingers over the bandage. "Zeff has his unique methods of imparting lessons, but when it involves me, or women in general, he transforms into a completely different person.”

"Yeah," he replied, chuckling. "He's the kind of man who views any form of disrespect towards women as a violation of a rule that exists since the age of dinosaurs.”

"That's quite a long way back," you said with a laugh.

"Well, he does make a valid point.”

During your tenure at the Baratie, you had the opportunity to understand Zeff on a more personal level. You could distinctly see why Mari held him in such high regard and deemed him worthy of her admiration.

"I'm glad you two found each other," you shared with him gently.

“Eh. He’s a piece of work,” he stated, pulling a face.

"But despite that, you still care about him, right?”

You couldn't resist planting a gentle kiss on his cheek, a move he hadn't expected, causing him to gaze at you with wide-eyed surprise.

"Come on," you urged him, rising to your feet and clasping his hand in your uninjured one. "Let's go back.”

He felt the need to protest, to remind you that you were meant to take the rest of the day off to avoid the risk of your wound reopening, but your determination was all it took to make him sigh and crack another grin.

After all, he had truly come to know you, witnessing firsthand your unwavering dedication and acknowledging your inherent need to remain engaged to forestall your thoughts from drifting.

As you made your way back, traversing the hallways and descending the stairs, his fingers tenderly held your hand, giving it a light squeeze and rendering the act of letting go a daunting challenge.

The rest of your shift progressed relatively peacefully and wasn't excessively demanding. Because of your injured hand, you kept yourself away from the sink to avoid any water contact. Patty had kindly suggested that you help him during meal preparations, an offer you readily accepted as it offered a welcome diversion and helped you reclaim your ease in the kitchen following the unfortunate incident with your father.

Much to your relief, everyone seemed unfazed. They treated you with kindness and without any awkwardness, all signs of tension having completely dissipated. Your gratitude couldn't have been greater, for you were truly working in the best place in the world.

If all that had occurred just a few weeks earlier, you would have spent the following hours weeping your eyes out, curled up into a ball on your bed. Now, despite the pain you still harbored within, with your father's words resonating in your mind, you were exhibiting the broadest smiles, the most sgenuine laughs, and the most robust energy. Your hand was somewhat of a hindrance, and Sanji frequently checked the condition of your bandage to ensure the injury hadn't begun to bleed again. But despite the bothersome burning sensation it sent through your palm, you refused to cease.

You did your utmost just like any other day, and before you even knew it, night had descended.

The warm, golden illumination from the kitchen lamps cast a homely glow over the stainless steel countertops and shiny cookware. The air was still imbued with the lingering scents of the evening's culinary delights, and the usually bustling ambience with the noises of sizzling pans and clattering dishes, was now more subdued, save for the occasional soft hum of the refrigeration units.

One by one, the team members left to retire in their cabins, and Patty had finally permitted himself a moment of relaxation by enjoying some beer at the farthest table in the room. Sanji was cleaning the last stack of dishes on your behalf, while you meticulously scrubbed and shined the counters around. Fatigue was starting to set in, both emotionally and physically, but you pushed it aside by stifling a yawn.

Once you were done, you assembled the waste and secured the bag's top with a knot. Upon glancing at the wooden countertop near the sink, you spotted an untouched plate, brimming with fresh food and nestled into a corner.

"And this?" You questioned in bewilderment, admiring the beautiful presentation in front of you. "What’s it doing here?”

Sanji took a look over his shoulder, a small grin appearing on his lips as he continued to rinse the dishes. "Oh, that," he said, his voice casual but with a trace of something more. "I was experimenting earlier.”

You moved closer, your gaze still fixed on the plate. "It looks amazing. What's in it?”

Sanji wiped his hands on a towel and turned to face you, leaning nonchalantly against the counter. "Seared tuna with a citrus glaze and ginger, some fresh herbs and a dash of spice. Thought I’d try something different tonight.”

You looked up at him, your eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Why is this here? Aren't you going to eat it?”

"It's not intended for me, beautiful. I prepared it for you," came the response.

"For me...?”

"You didn't eat much today, did you?"

Caught between your job and the disconcerting run-in with your brutish father, you could hardly proclaim any semblance of hunger. Your stomach had constricted, grudgingly permitting the ingestion of mere bread and seasoned croutons, as it rejected anything more substantial, deeming it too difficult to digest.

"I suppose not," you responded. "But, with all the work you had to handle, you really didn't have to go out of your way to cook for me.”

"Eh, it's nothing complex. I didn't want you to go to sleep on an empty stomach.”

The more you endeavored to maintain a friendly, professional attitude, the more he did things that made you want to abandon all restraint. How could he be so thoughtful, so kind-hearted, so incredibly sweet?

“Well then. Mind if I try it?”

Sanji’s grin broadened, a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Be my guest.”

You picked up a fork, took a modest bite, and without any formalities, brought it to your lips, savoring the fusion of flavors with a newfound curiosity. The combination of spices, the juicy fish, and the refreshing citrus creating a delightful harmony, sparked a genuine explosion on your tongue and taste buds.

Each meal he prepared was unique, every dish distinctive and never repetitive. His culinary creativity was formidable, with every utensil serving as a brush, crafting edible masterpieces on the impromptu canvases of pots and plates.

You were genuinely rendered speechless. "Wow. Sanji, this is incredible.”

Sanji observed you with a gentle, fond gaze. "I’m glad you like it. After all, I had a special someone in mind.”

How could he say that so effortlessly, so spontaneously, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world? A blush tinted your cheeks at his words as you set the fork down. The atmosphere around you seemed to heat up, filled with a silent tension that sent an electric charge from your head down to your toes.

"A special someone, huh?”

Sanji edged a bit closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Yeah. Someone who deserves nothing less than the absolute best.”

Just as the situation was about to surge into high emotional territory, Patty’s complaint shattered the forming enchantment. "Hey, lovebirds, save it for after hours. I'm trying to enjoy my beer in peace.”

Sanji chuckled, shifting his eyes to take a quick look at Patty. "Don’t be jealous, man.”

Biting your lower lip, you kept staring at the food he had prepared, unable to slow down your heart which, in the meantime, had gone completely wild. The tacit bond between you seemed to rekindle, hinting at a promise of something more waiting to be unraveled. You could sense the heat radiating from his body, his arm grazing yours in a subtle contact, his eyes perusing you with a smile that was utterly irresistible.

Patty, perceptive of the change in the atmosphere, finished off his beer and rose with a grunt. He quietly maneuvered to where you and Sanji were standing, swiftly taking hold of the trash bag you were about to dispose of and heading towards the entrace.

"I'll handle this. You two, just refrain from doing anything Zeff wouldn't approve of.”

With that, he took his leave, thrusting the doors open and retreating from your presence with lightning speed.

Making him uncomfortable was the last thing you wanted, and now that you found yourself alone with Sanji, enveloped in the silence of the vacant space, you let out a timid giggle. "I'm afraid we made him feel like a third wheel.”

Sanji exhaled contentedly. "He'll survive.”

As you turned to look at him again, confident enough to withstand his charm without surrendering your self-control, you noticed the depth of his attention on you. All your resolve wavered in front of it, for all his blue eyes did was soften the barriers you had built around yourself.

"Thank you for making this for me,” you told him. "You're truly talented. But I believe I've mentioned that many times already.”

His sheepishness resurfaced, a facet he didn't reveal very often, but it showcased his inherent gentleness. "It’s never enough when it comes from you.”

Your joy was irrepressible, and as your conversation continued with playful banter and flirtatious jabs, you eagerly polished off the remainder of his meal, even finding yourself wishing for more.

You could hear the music from the lounge area gradually fading, the remaining customers taking their leave amidst hushed conversations. You fell into absolute silence as Sanji cleared away your plate, trying to avoid paying excessive attention to the way his muscles flexed, and to the subtle wave-like movement of his covered shoulder blades.

Straightening up and unbuttoning your white jacket, you kneaded your tense neck and let out a weary sigh. The day had been bustling and somewhat chaotic with all the incidents, and there was only so much you could do to fight off the fatigue now.

"Quite a long day, right?”

You responded with a nod. "The longest one yet.”

"I'm almost done here. Go get some sleep, my lovely. You need it.”

In the span of several weeks, there was no denying that your connection with Sanji had intensified. Your interactions and mutual esteem had sculpted a relationship that was both energizing and empowering. A silent attraction perpetually lingered between you, a magnetic allure that both of you were keenly aware of, yet hadn't outwardly acknowledged.

Even then, you could sense his anticipation for something more, something deeper, and that made the simple act of turning around to leave particularly arduous.

He stood by the counter, his typical confident smile gracing his lips, but his eyes revealed a hint of uncertainty, as though he was dipping his toes into the depths of something much more profound. You stood still, your thoughts whirling.

Each passing second elongated into an eternity as you weighed your options. You might have been terribly mistaken, but you thought you saw hope, a silent plea for you to close the distance that separated you.

Your moment of indecision was brief before determination took hold. It's not the right time, you continually reminded yourself. Not today... perhaps not ever.

Feeling defeated, you swallowed hard and reluctantly took a step back. "See you tomorrow.”

This time, Sanji appeared genuinely bewildered, disappointed, evidently expecting a different result. A few moments later, the corners of his lips curled up, but they lacked their usual magic. "Goodnight, Y/N.”

Had it all been a figment of your imagination? Were you interpreting expressions and reactions that, in reality, never truly existed?

As you walked away, a stubborn lump formed in your throat, steadfastly refusing to be swallowed down. With shaky hands, you reached for the doors, your focus landed over the bandage that Sanji had meticulously wrapped around your injury. Since the day you first showed up at the Baratie, he had performed a multitude of remarkable acts for you. He had protected you from Christopher, cooked you the most delectable meals, expressed worry for your wellbeing, and even faced your father without any reservations. And what had you given in return? Merely offered him your friendship? Tossed him occasional compliments?

If anything, it seemed like you primarily took him for granted, relying on him as your support system at the Baratie as soon as you were hired. You knew he would always be there to back you up and you took advantage of that, using it all to your benefit. He even consented to share his past, laden with tormenting memories that he would rather consign to oblivion and never dredge up again.

“Whatever you and Sanji share at this moment, it's unique for you and likely for him too. Even if you're not destined to end up together, even if you remain just friends or mere coworkers, why would you want to miss out on the chance of experiencing happiness, even if it's only for one night?”

Mari was right. Why were you so adamant about not making the first move? Sanji respected you too much to impose his emotions, or whatever they might be, upon you. And you would never find the 'right moment' because, in reality, you didn’t truly want to. You were scared, absolutely terrified, and had deliberately cocooned yourself in a shell that was now riddled with cracks.

That barrier needed to be dismantled. Permanently.

"Are you okay? Did you forget something?" he inquired, observing you rooted to the spot.

Swiveling on your heels, you turned to face him once more, a slow smile spreading across your face. It was a smile of relief, realization, passion, and love.

"Yes, I did."

Each stride you made towards him felt intentional, the distance between you slowly dwindling until you were just inches apart. Sanji's breath hitched, his usual calm demeanor faltering as he watched you approach.

Quietly, you raised your hands, gently but securely cupping his face. The entire restaurant seemed to shrink down to just the two of you, with the background noise vanishing completely. You could feel the increasing warmth of his skin, the slight roughness of his shaved stubble beneath your fingertips. For a brief moment, you hesitated, your gaze locking with his, searching for any sign of resistance.

There was none.

With a decisive tilt of your head, you finally pressed your lips onto his, initiating a kiss that was vibrant with energy, overflowing with all the feelings you'd held back for so long. It was a kiss of yearning, of unspoken words and unmet desires, the culmination of the undercurrent that had been building between you for weeks.

Sanji’s initial shock dissipated almost immediately, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer as he intensified the kiss. His movements were gentle, filled with careful consideration, afraid of causing you any discomfort. Yet, there also was an active fire, a fervor that ignited the moment and set it ablaze.

When you pulled apart, both of you were almost breathless, with your foreheads leaning against each other. You placed your hands on his chest, smiling and chortling, which he echoed, before his warm fingers mirrored your action and softly held the sides of your face. He leaned in to press his lips against yours again, his mouth moving eagerly against your own. Your tongues met, a bit timidly at first, then intertwined in a deeply sensuous dance.

He tasted of fresh spices, the familiar tang of citrus, sea salt and ocean breeze. There was also a rich undertone of wine, and a hint of tobacco mingling in.

Without breaking away from the kiss, his arms descended and wrapped around you, while your own reached up to encircle his neck. It was unforgettable, tantalizing, and as passionate as everything else he did.

That night, you had surrendered to the best decision you could ever make, breaking the promise you had made to Zeff.

You could only hope that he wouldn't choose to walk into the kitchen at that moment, as separating from Sanji's lips and embrace was something you couldn't imagine enduring.

Final note: SMUT is definitely coming in the next chapter! 🔥

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 6 ->

[kmgkmg]

YES NO MAYBE - JEON WONWOO

word count: 1.7k…

pairing: wonwoo x gn!reader

synopsis: wonwoo sits down for an interview after his pictorial to answer some questions, what he wasn't expecting was you to be the one interviewing him.

genre/s: angst, idol!wonwoo, ex!wonwoo, magazine editor!reader

warnings: none!

rating: pg

a/n: submission for k-label's firsts for everything event! the title and fic are inspired by bae suzy's solo debut with yes no maybe! while the title track is def the biggest inspiration, i relied on all of the mini album since it's one of my absolute favorites of kpop. also leaned into iu's discography a lot and ending scene was another inspiration. thank you @gyusangels and @hwasangelbaby for being the beta readers!

Wonwoo’s steps can be heard against the floor as he enters the studio. People are still shuffling about busily, setting up before the shoot officially starts. Next to the clothing racks, various conceptual pictures are taped all along the wall. He scans the pictures, trying his best to get a grasp of what vibe he had to emulate for the day. 

The continuous clicking sounds of the camera’s shutter rings in Wonwoo’s ears while the flashes of light hurt his eyes. On top of that, the studio booms with loud music to set the mood for the shoot. With each flash, Wonwoo subtly readjusts himself to a new pose. Five outfit changes along with five different hairstyles and makeup looks. Exhausted is an understatement. The shoot proceeds for nearly three hours before finally getting the last shot approved by the magazine’s staff. 

“You were absolutely terrific!” The enthusiastic photographer praises Wonwoo and Wonwoo immediately turns bashful. He’s weak to compliments, especially when the cameras are turned off.  

His manager approaches him with a water bottle and a handheld fan. 

“Are we done for the day then?” Wonwoo asks after sipping and starts to take the uncomfortable jacket off.

His manager avoids his eyes, an indication to Wonwoo that the day was not over. “You still have the Q&A video to film. Their Chief Editor is interviewing you.”

He pats his manager’s shoulder, reassuring him to not worry. “Q&A videos are a breeze! What do you want to grab for lunch afterwards?”

“Today’s weather is perfect for…sushi?” His manager suggests. 

Wonwoo is energized by the thought of eating sushi later on. “Now that you have motivated me, this interview will be done in no time!”

“Chief Editor L/N!” One of your employees greets you, making the others aware of your presence. You are distracted by the conversation on your phone and briefly greet the employees before finishing the phone call. 

Wonwoo is already waiting at the table that the staff set up, but his eyes dart up as he looks for you. He knew you worked at Vogue, but Vogue is a huge company. He never expected that he’d run into you like this, nearly a year after you dumped him. 

You sit behind the camera wordlessly, pulling your laptop out of your work bag. Straightening your posture on the chair, you double check that the camera is recording. “Seventeen’s Wonwoo, thank you for joining us today.” 

He’s thrown off by your extremely professional behavior. Nobody knew about your past relationship besides Seventeen, but you were treating him like a complete stranger. His initial shock dies down, but it's clear on his face that he’s experiencing a rollercoaster of emotions from your presence.  

His words spill out thoughtlessly, “So, you’ve been promoted to Chief Editor?”

You exchange glances with the staff around you, all looking back at you with quizzical expressions. Double-checking the flashing red dot on the camera, you reply curtly. “Yes, I’ve been Chief Editor for about seven months. Usually the managing editor conducts the interviews, but he had a family emergency today. We’re deeply sorry that we weren’t able to inform you sooner.”  

“No need to apologize!” Wonwoo replies, becoming aware of his surroundings once again. Flashing a wide smile to the camera, he turns on his idol persona. Staff around the studio begin gushing about his kind behavior as you look for which fan questions to read. 

“Do you have any plans on releasing any more videos or photos for Carats?”

“I plan to hold a traveling exhibition of my photography early next year! I can’t give too much away right now, but Carats will definitely love it.” 

A smile crept onto your face, glad that the ideas he bounced off of you were coming to fruition. “Do the members still ask you to take their pictures a lot?”

He blinks his eyes rapidly, surprised at your memory. “Yes, they do! At this point, DK, The8, and I are practically the assigned Instagram photographers in the group.”

You nod, and prepare yourself to read the next comment. “Ballad lover, Jeon Wonwoo! I love your music taste so much! What song have you been hooked on lately?”

“I’ve mentioned IU a lot in the past since her music means a lot to me. Luckily, Carats really enjoyed my cover of her song Knees. These days, I’ve been listening to The Visitor by her. The melody is very catchy and the instrumental is stripped back which adds a special layer of sentimentality to the track. I especially love the lyrics for the hook. ‘Why do I still love you? Why do I sing about you? Why do I still wait for you?  Babe I love you.’” He responds, purposefully looking away from the camera and instead having his eyes fixate on you. 

His longing gaze goes unnoticed by you as you type a note to the video editor to add IU’s in song during post production. “Wonwoo, I’m addicted to books like you! Which books are the most newly purchased in your library?”

“Book Park Lounge had a sale a week ago! I bought about eight new books? Greek Lessons by the author Han Kang has been insanely interesting so far. Although the novel came out in April, it was sold out in all of the bookstores around me immediately. Please, check it out if you enjoy books about the beauty of humanity. My rambling isn’t doing the book justice, just know that once you pick the book up, you won’t be able to put it down.”

You memorize the book’s title, secretly missing the reading lists he would make you. “Any recent activities you did with the members that you can share?”

Wonwoo takes a second to think, lightly tapping his fingers on the table’s surface. “Me and Minghao went to a tea tasting and blending workshop. I’ve recently been more interested in tea, so he suggested that I tag along with him. It was a really rewarding time, I got exposure to a lot of new flavors!”

“Since you made your own tea blend, do you have any tips for people that follow your steps and try making their own blends?”

“Great question!” He compliments, turning silent as he thinks of the best universally liked ingredient. “Dried rose petals are my recommendation. They are easy to add to any tea blend in my opinion, plus, the quantity that you add can customize how much you want the flavor to stand out. Minghao would probably recommend others’ first experience with tea to be a tea ceremony instead. I’ve done both and the ceremonies tend to focus on patience and maintaining steady hands.”

Hesitating to move on to the next question, you review your coworker’s email with the prewritten questions. “Do we have to ask every question here?” 

Wonwoo tilts his head in confusion, “Why not?”

“Very well. Wonwoo, have you ever regretted letting go of something or someone?” 

“Yes.” His immediate reply causes his manager to approach you and ask for it to be edited out. Wonwoo sees the interaction and tries his best to fix his mistake. “Actually, no… Well, maybe? At the time, I found myself asking a lot, what does my heart actually want? It’s strange, isn’t it? I mean how humans don’t understand their hearts at times. But by the time I realized what I wanted, it was far too late. So yes, I’m full of regret.”  

You look back at his manager, whose mouth is slightly agape over Wonwoo’s candid answer. Picking up on the manager’s flustered state, you skip to the last question. “What are your plans for the rest of the year?”

He tries his best to sound energetic again, “Well, Seventeen always tries to be as active as we can! Although a little less than half of the year is left, we will meet you very soon with new music and performances!” 

“Can you do the outro?”

“See you all next time! Subscribe, like, and comment to Vogue’s YouTube channel!” Wonwoo waves goodbye with both hands and you stand up to turn off the camera. 

He walks over to you as he stretches his arms. “Can we think about us again?”

You continue fidgeting with the camera and say in a low voice, “Wonwoo. Stop saying, let’s think about it again. You know better than anyone that we probably wouldn't last a day.”

“But, Y/N, life without you isn’t the same…” His eyes turn desperate. More eyes are on the two of you, unaware that you were so deeply acquainted with one another.  

“Follow me.” You excuse yourself from the studio with Wonwoo listening to your words.

He has a hopeful glint to his eyes now, biting down on his lip to contain his excitement. He’s at a complete loss of how to predict what you’re going to say. 

You’re shaking from the anger of his unprofessionalism. Wonwoo realizes your emotions and his face turns solemn. 

“What is with you today, Wonwoo? It’s obvious we’ll hurt each other again, so stop saying you can’t live without me. Please, just meet someone who will love you more than I did.” 

He looks down at his feet and mumbles, “You act like that is an easy task, Y/N.” 

“Wonwoo, I’m with someone else now. You’re the one that wanted us to date quietly and we broke up just as quietly. Now, let go of me quietly.” You request, not once faltering in front of him. 

Without giving him time to respond, you walk back towards the studio’s doors and hold one open for him. His feet move without him thinking, trudging back into the studio. 

His manager is talking to the photographer about which photos should be excluded from the final cut. Once he notices Wonwoo's return, he finishes the conversation effortlessly. 

“Ready for some sushi?”

Wonwoo takes one last look in your direction and sees you engrossed in your work as employees crowd you. Yes, he misses you more than anything. But no, he knows that you don’t feel the same. So maybe, it’s time for him to follow your wishes and let go of you. 

He clears his throat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

[allthesmutl0vers]

The Fate Of Us: Sam/Dean/F!Reader/Castiel (Part Eight)

MDNI, 18+.

Requests: OPEN

A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to update this! I am working on like three different stories right now. (Two Supernatural and One Harry Potter.) Hand to Jack, I will start updating this one and Entirely Forbidden and Completely Fucked more regularly.

Shoutout: Shout out to @ladykitana90 for making me pull my head out of my ass and start updating these again. Love you girl! 🫶

TW: Sexual references (she writes smut), sexual teasing, sexual visions, nicknames, reverse harem.

***This is a #wincest story, so please keep that in mind for down the road.

Chapter Eight

Sam

Bobby sighs, grabs his hat, and retreats to his bedroom. I don’t blame him. How do you even begin to cope with God saying that the girl that he drops into your life is your flesh and blood but not your daughter? I went to Stanford, and even I don’t know what to say to him at this moment to make sense of it. 

Dean watches out the bay window in the living room, no doubt looking for where y/n ran off. I step up next to him, not making eye contact. “She’ll be okay,” I say to Dean, looking out the window. I don’t know why I’m comforting him. I don’t know why I didn’t care when he was trying to hit on her right next to me. I encouraged it. 

Was it because of my boost of ego when she returned to me? Was it because it was fun to pull her back from him, knowing she’d come? No, it feels more profound than that. Something I’ve never felt before. 

Dean sighs and shakes his head, moving away from the window and walking into the kitchen, no doubt grabbing a beer. Cas steps up next to me, probably looking for Jack after he chased after her. 

“She won’t hurt him, will she?” Cas asks, his tone still suspicious. 

I hold back my scoff of annoyance. God told him she is here to help, and he thinks she’ll hurt him. “No. She won’t hurt him,” I look over at him. “And I won’t even dignify asking you if he’ll hurt her because I trust him. The least you can do is pretend to give her that same respect.” 

Cas meets my eyes, his jaw clenched. He knows I’m right; I saw how he looked at her after she was proven innocent. It’s the same look I see when he looks at Dean. The glance was short-lived, but it was there even if he won’t admit it. Yet.

“I’m sorry,” Cas apologizes softly. “I should’ve trusted you and Dean enough to give her the benefit of the doubt. It’s just,” he sighs. “Jack is my son, maybe not biologically… But he’s still my son, and I know he sees you and Dean in the same light.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. I know he does, hell. Jack already calls himself a ‘Winchester’. The first time he called himself by our last name, there was no pride like that. Being a father has always been a dream of mine, and I know it was for Dean, too. Even if he never admits it, even if he never allows himself to believe it’s possible. 

“I know Cas,” I say lowly. “I can’t pretend I don’t understand because I know how Dean felt when he first met Jack,” I exhale deeply. “But she’s here. And in… whatever aspect… she’s in our lives now. As far as I’m concerned, she’s one of us now.”

Cas nods. “She really is beautiful,” he says, looking out the window. 

Little out of left field, okay…

I turn to see what he’s looking at outside the window. Y/n and Jack walk back up to the house. “Yeah, she is,” I answer. 

Castiel

I shouldn’t have been so hard on her. I know that. I could see she isn’t evil, and her soul is pure, wounded, but pure nonetheless. But being a parent means protecting your child, and I’d sooner toss myself into purgatory again than let something happen to Jack because I didn’t see it coming. Because I wasn’t paying attention. 

The front door opens, and Jack and y/n walk inside. And the smile on her face… 

I feel my dick strain inside of my pants, pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. Why? I know what it means to be aroused. I have taken my fair share of lovers. But I have never been aroused by a smile in all my eons of existence. 

Her eyes wander around the room before meeting mine. My chest tightens when she bites the corner of her lower lip. 

How would it feel to feel my teeth pulling on her lips?

How soft are they? 

What do her lips taste like?

What does she taste like?

I imagine she tastes like honey, sweet and warm. I shouldn’t be thinking of her like this. Sam and Dean obviously have feelings for her, and I shouldn’t butt in. But that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine what she would look like, laid down on her back, her skin bared and ready for the taking. 

How she would look as she cums on my tongue or my dick buried deep inside of her, pushing her over the edge again and again.

“Castiel?” Her sweet voice breaks my trance. I blink a few times, breaking the eye contact. 

I hope I wasn’t projecting my vision. If she saw that…

“Yes?” I respond, taking note of the tiny bead of sweat that drips down the side of her neck, doing my best not to walk over and lick it off with my tongue. 

She bites her bottom lip, and her cheeks flush. 

She definitely saw.

Good, little one. 

“I was just wondering if I could speak to you,” she says softly, fiddling her fingers in front of her. 

I nod once, not answering verbally, as I walk out the front door, and she follows me. I lean against the porch railing, facing her and waiting for her to speak. 

“I, um,” she stumbles, trying to find the words she needs. She takes a deep breath and looks me directly in the eyes as she speaks. “I know you find it hard to trust me. I would too if you just randomly popped into my world saying you were trying to help my enemy be better,” she stiffens, finding her ground. “But you have to understand that part of the deal I made before I came here was that I would never hurt any of you. Especially Jack.”

I nod, letting her know I understand, and she continues. “As a matter of fact, I told Chuck that if he didn’t prove himself to be a better God, I would help Jack kill him myself.”

My eyes widen slightly in surprise. 

Did she really?

I look deep into her eyes, searching her soul for the truth, and I find it. 

She’s telling the truth. 

“So yes, I understand you’re distrustful of me. But there’s something else you should know,” she steps up to me, her breasts under her shirt brushing against my chest, making me suck in a breath. “Chuck made me immortal. You may be able to hurt me, but nothing can kill me. And if it comes down to it, I will fight til the death of anyone who stands in my way of saving your world,” her eyes narrow slightly. “And I mean, anyone.”

Fuck, this woman…

She steps back again, her face relaxing. “And to answer your question, yes. I saw your vision.” She winks and walks back inside, leaving me alone, gripping the railing and clinging to whatever shreds of my sanity are left. 

Y/n

Did I admit to seeing the vision Castiel had?

Holy shit…

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my clit pulse. I’d also be lying if I said I didn’t want him to do what he did in his vision. Between Sam, Dean, and now Castiel? How would I choose? And the biggest question, is how did I see it?

In my fanfics, the reader never has to. But it just feels so far from being canon now that I’m here, living and being around them. I need a break. I need to write and eliminate all of this pent-up energy and arousal. 

I make my way to the stairs that lead up to my bedroom, but a hand on my arm stops me as I step up the first stair. 

“You okay?” Sam asks me, his eyes filled with concern. 

I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just going to write for a bit,” I smile softly. 

Sam nods, and his eyes relax. “Oh, okay. Well, do you want some company? It’s a little stuffy down here,” he chuckles, and his hand leaves my arm to brush through his hair. 

I really should be alone right now, but how can I say no to him? How can I resist?

“Sure, come on,” I say with a small smile, leading him to my room. The room we almost kissed, or more, just a couple of hours ago.

Sam and I sit on my bed, leaning back against the headboard. Writing a spicy scene with him sitting right next to me feels weird. But Sam pulls out my copy of “Sick Boys’ and seems fully delved into it, so I decide just to brush it off. 

I pull up my fanfic, ‘Intentions,’ on Google Docs. I pretty much just started it, and the last time I left off, I was just beginning a super smutty foursome scene. I glance over at Sam, making sure he’s not looking, and begin to write. 

“Sam takes my free nipple into his mouth, flicking, sucking, and nipping on it as Cas grips my throat again, squeezing the sides as he nips at my bottom lip. "You like all of our mouths on you, don't you, little girl?" He asks huskily.

"Y-yes.. God, yes." I manage to moan out softly. My eyes start to roll back as Dean's tongue enters me, and I feel my thighs begin to shake as my orgasm pools in my stomach.

Cas's grip on my throat tightens slightly as Dean continues to devour me, and Sam moves his mouth to my other nipple. "That's our good girl." He says darkly.

My hands grip the sheets next to my waist as I begin to pant, holding off my release by a fraying thread. "Fuck.." I manage to moan under Cas's grip as my eyes begin to roll back.

"Don't hold back, princess. Give it all to us," Dean says from between my shaking legs. "Cum for us like a good little slut." He says darkly before his tongue dives back to my clit again, and he sucks and licks it like an animal as his fingers enter me and pump in and out harshly.

I let my orgasm wash over me like a flood. I feel my walls clamp around his pumping fingers as I moan his name while two other men touch and kiss me. It's euphoric, it's sinful, and I need more as soon as it's over.

They don't keep me waiting, though. With one swift movement, Dean flips me on my stomach, and Cas moves behind me, pulling my hips up in the air as Sam moves to sit on his knees in front of me. Sam lifts my head by my chin to meet his hooded eyes with my own. "You want more, don't you, baby?" He asks in a gentle voice.

"Yes... I need it..." I breathe out.

"Then show me how much you want it." He says as he brings his long hard cock up to my mouth.

I part my lips and open my mouth in welcome, and he slides in my mouth, the salty pre-cum coating my tongue as he groans and his jaw drops slightly. "Fuck, that's it." He groans.

As he slides in further, I feel the tip of Cas's cock meet my entrance and slide in, stretching my walls as he slides in further. "So fucking wet, God, yes." He moans as I moan around Sam's cock.

They find their rhythm sliding in and out of me faster as they find it. "Rub her clit, Dean." I hear Cas say behind me as Sam runs his hands through my hair before gripping it and holding my head still, sliding deeper into my throat with more force.

Dean's fingers find my clit with pinpoint precision, circling over my pulsing clit quickly and making me moan louder against Sam's cock as Cas grips my hips and fucks me harder and faster. My moans against Sam's cock make him moan louder and fuck my throat harder, forcing himself in deeper and making my eyes water-”

Sam breathes heavily next to me, pulling my focus to look at him, watching me type.

Should I close my laptop? 

“Keep writing,” Sam says darkly, his eyes meeting mine, pupils blown with arousal. I bite my lip and look down at his cock, tenting his sweatpants.

God, he’s huge. Maybe even bigger than I’ve written.

I glance up at him again. “S- Sam?” I say his name in a breathy voice.

Sam peaks his tongue out slightly, licking his lips. “Keep going, y/n,” his voice still husky and dark. 

My arousal pools inside of my sleep shorts that I never got the chance to change out of. I decide to push him a little. “Or else what?” I tease, his eyes watching as mine float down to his cock and back up to his eyes again. 

A deep growl comes from his throat, traveling right down to my clit and making it pulse. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to show you just how hard it’s going to be for you to walk back down those stairs when I’m finished with you.”

My breath catches in my chest. Sam leans in, brushing his lips against that sweet spot behind my ear. “And I won’t let you stay quiet either. I’ll make everyone hear what a good little slut you are for me as you scream and beg for more.”

Sam moves his face to mine, and I bite my lip, fighting back a smirk. “You wouldn’t dare,” I challenge him.

“Want to bet?”

Part Nine

[marthawrites]

The Arbor and the Dragon: Chapter 4, Moonlight

Aemond Targaryen x Redwyne fem reader

Word count: 6.8k+

About: Tension around the Red Keep grows. Rumors begin spreading about yours and Aemond's time spent together. Jane, your best friend and lady-in-waiting, reminds you of your favorite summer festival back home. You write Aemond a letter in secret and request his company at the beach. Emotions are high and promises are made.

Includes: Tension, some mild angst, hurt, comfort, and fluff. Reader (named Emeline) has body image issues due to a slight deformity.

Note: Hello lovely reader! I hope I haven't lost you on this story ♥ I deeply apologize for keeping you waiting for literal months for this chapter. The beach scene in this chapter has been living in my heart and mind for a solid month or even two! I've been greedy with it, and it's finally time to share it. It's inspired by a cut-scene in a video game and if you get the reference please let me know because I will fall in love! As always, I hope that you enjoy it! I plan on having chapter 5 ready to share much sooner than this one was (3 flippin mo rofl) ♥

Catch up on earlier chapters with the series masterlist

-

"Are you taking Lady Redwyne to the Sept this morning?" Alicent asked her son as he sat across the table from her. On any other occasion the Queen Mother's question could be received as harmless. A simple inquiry. Naught more than curiosity for her soon to be daughter-in-law's goodness. 

Aemond knew his mother better. His fork clinked on the silver plate as he dragged a chunk of sausage through syrup. A childhood favorite. Only his mother would indulge him in such a treat if she meant to soften him up.

Or, perhaps, she merely missed her son. They'd hardly seen each other as of late.

The curtains of her room were drawn open, as were the windows, and summer's morning breeze rolled over King's Landing from the ocean. "Yes, mother, I've already said that," Aemond answered as he ate the bite from his fork. No one else joined them for the day's breaking fast; not even a servant. Fruit, still warm bread, and bacon accompanied the spiced sausage on polished platters. The small table lent them a feeling of intimacy even their seclusion couldn't. "Would you care to join us?"

Alicent too dragged a bite of sausage through syrup; the source of Aemond's guilty pleasure. "Not this time, no," she answered around a mouthful. If she were dining with anyone else she wouldn't respond in such a way, but with her son she paid it no mind.

Aemond hummed thoughtfully beneath his breath and continued eating. Tension slowly knotted between his shoulders at the heavy silence.

"I worry about you and Lady Redwyne, Aemond.” There it was. The reason for their unspecified meeting. The softness of her lovely eyes, so unlike the rare hue of her son’s, betrayed the practiced hardness of her mouth. With a tilt of her head she regarded him a little closer in a way only a mother could. 

Truthfully, the young prince found little pleasure in eating and ate almost solely for the purpose of nourishment. Leave it to his own mother to serve him one of the few things he actually enjoyed only to bring up this topic. Again. “We are to wed in less than a week. What is there to worry about?” He asked, appetite gone.

“You know of what I speak,” she answered curtly, eyes fluttering in such a way Aemond knew she might as well have rolled them. “Now is not the time to fall behind on your duties. You two spend countless hours together. Alone, too, no doubt. On dragon back to who knows where, unchecked around the city, amidst the dragon pit. I’ve said it multiple times: you two are not to be alone together.”

“She is a respite from the daily burden of princeliness and unwavering duties,” he replied, features defensive. Alicent read the subtle shift of his neck and shoulders as if he'd turned the table over in a rush of rage.

“It is unbecoming of you and Lady Redwyne to be practicing what you’re doing. Suspicion of your activities is high. We – I – cannot allow a foreign girl to put you so under her spell that you forget about this war. Depravity doesn’t look good on you. Nor does it serve any sort of purpose.” Heat bloomed across the tops of Alicent’s ears. The grip she had on her silverware made her knuckles turn white. Her jaw jutted authoritatively.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. He loved his mother. He respected his mother. The things he wanted to say would poison both of those things. Instead, he glared across at her and a breath chuffed from his nose.

“The Sept will do you both good today. Ser Arryk will accompany you. Stay and pray as long as you and Lady Redwyne both require. I’m sure it is needed more than I know.” Her voice was even again. Stern.

The prince stood, eye never leaving his mother. “It is good to know you pay heed to my daily activities while actively disregarding Aegon’s lechery and debauchery. If the tables were turned, would you still?” In long strides he stepped to the door. Turning his head over his shoulder he saw her attention following him. “Now that I see where your priorities lie this morning–” he paused with a scoff, “–you might be lightened to know Lady Redwyne is much more than her father's fleet to me, now. You needn't worry over it any longer. Aegon will have it.” He exited, closing the door with deliberate finality.

Duty. Love. Aemond Targaryen treaded a fine line.

-

Your personal guardsman, Louis, practically vibrated out of his armor in protest of being denied accompanying you with Aemond to the Sept. Growing up with a strict father garnered you the hard learned skill of little mice feet. Subtly was one of your stronger suits, and even Louis, despite your complete trust in him and his skill as a well-trained guardsman, couldn't keep up with you at all times. And, thus, you and Aemond were able to sneak away unbothered on more than one occasion. 

And today? Well, Louis simply had to listen to your hard, and unwavering, no. Your father could punish you for it later for all you cared. Time with your soon to be husband was worth it.

Excitement rushed up and down your spine as you saw Aemond make his way to you at the agreed location. You bounced on the balls of your feet eagerly. Clasping your House's grape cluster signet at the center of your mantle accented the low neckline of your dress; perhaps the lowest cut you'd worn in the prince's company. It was sleeveless in the fashion of your home too, and the gossamer cloak offered you a shield of modesty. 

You saw a tightening of Aemond's jaw, as well as a stiffness in his back and shoulders, which immediately dampened your excitement. Had you done something wrong? Did he disapprove of your lovely summer gown? Perhaps it was the fashion of your braid – would it offend the other ladies in court with its, potentially, outdated style? Your mouth dried before you even opened it to speak. 

He stood in front of you and offered a formal bow, ending with a chaste kiss to the top of your hand. "Good morning, my Lady Redwyne. I don't believe you've officially met Ser Arryk. As per my mother's request, he will be joining us today in journey to the Sept." He spoke evenly. Practiced and courtly. The darkened pupil at the center of his eye, and the way it lingered on the opened expanse of your chest, however, spoke much more passionately.

Your gaze flickered between both men, Ser Arryk standing a few paces back for privacy, and you tried to control your breath. "He must be quite a warrior to be the one protecting you, my prince," you said smoothly before smiling at the knight. 

He simply nodded and bowed his head in a show of respect.

"Hm," Aemond hummed shortly. He hadn't loosened at all yet, and if anything he looked even more tense. His hand at the small of your back splayed wider than you'd felt it before, and his fingers curling into your waist gripped firmly.

Oh. Was this… jealousy? Something primal in the ancient part of his brain that made him need to show you as his? Most of your time spent together had been alone: now, another layer to the Targaryen prince to witness.

The carriage ride was silent. Aemond's hand, warm and wide and possessive, stayed glued to the top of your thigh the whole way.

It was only at the great doors of the Sept that Ser Arryk finally spoke. "Pray in peace, my prince. I will be standing guard here at the door. If you need me, you know where I'll be," he bowed politely and turned forward once again, eyes keen and observant on the bustle of the square ahead.

While Aemond acknowledged Arryk, he barely gave the other man more than a simple "hmm," in reply. 

"What's the matter, my prince?" Inside, your voice seemed too loud for the incense laden air. There must have been hundreds of candles lit and their smoke made the air heavier than it already was.

Beautiful high windows of stained glass dominated the walls, and geometrical patterns of the overhead framework added to the ornate sanctuary. Outside the sun shone brightly, and when the sky’s fluffy clouds moved away from in front of it, rainbows of light reflected on various swaths of floor, wall, and statue alike. While inspired by religion, you’d never been heavily religious. Here, now, however, you realized why so many people lead a holy life.

Civilians gathered in intimate groups for prayer around the varying altars, and the Sept’s holy brothers and holy sisters wandered throughout the place. One thing you noticed was how many averted their gaze from Aemond. Some even turned on their heel in the opposite direction to, seemingly, avoid getting close to him. Despite his lineage, even the holy brothers and holy sisters regarded him with little formality.

Aemond One-Eye. The cruel prince. Black hearted. Kinslayer. Here, in this holiest of places, there was hardly anything more accursed than a kinslayer. And you, the fair foreign girl from far away in the Reach, his betrothed. The smallfolk knew little of you and likely trusted you less. Being on the arm of the Targaryen Prince brought more side-eyes than respectful greetings. 

Tucked away inside the Red Keep with your wedding plans, lady’s gossip, and noble mingling sometimes made it easy to forget that a war was simmering. 

Aemond’s stiff shoulders and silence had spread to you.

What a strange turn of morning. In all your time spent together it had never been quite like this. Even your first meeting didn’t carry the same tension that hung in the air between you now. Before you knew it, you found yourself fiddling with the silken material of your dress. A nervous habit you had as long as you could remember.

Finally, while standing in front of the Father, Aemond turned to you and said, “normally I come here with mother, Aegon, and Helaena.” A long breath exhaled from his nose as he tipped the flickering flame of a candle to the wick of another, lighting it. “Mother summoned me to join her alone in breaking fast. I thought it kind, at first. Sweet even,” he chuffed, a disapproving tug pulling down one side of his mouth. “You are spoiling me with yours so I forget it’s not freely given. How silly of me.” His single lilac eye rested on your doe-brown gaze, your lovely dark pools looking up at him softly, questioningly. Attentively. 

You extended your hand out to his and held it gently. “Aemond…,” you started, peering up at him with all the gentleness you could muster. “I’m sure your mother didn’t mean to come across the way she did.” You squeezed and stepped closer into him, uncaring of how it might look to any nosey onlookers. In your experience even the most religious folks could be the most nosey. In the high morning light, with rainbows illuminating the cloud of heady smoke, the lines of your bodies meshed into one as you kissed the prince’s cheek. 

A smile graced his features and it was the first you’d seen all day. “Let us pray to the Father. May he judge those who seek him for strength and wisdom. May they be wise enough to see what their judgment clouds.”

Kneeling, then, you finally released his hand and began praying in silence. He knelt beside you, too, and you’d be lying if you said prayer had your full attention. Aemond’s lips moved silently and you wondered what he might be praying – they were so handsome, his lips, and you desperately wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him to blushing pinks right here in the middle of the Sept. Each time you peered across at him beneath the protection of your eyelashes you had to force yourself to close your eyes and focus. With his hands clasped, head bowed, and eye closed, he looked ethereal. He was ethereal. They said Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, and the more time you spent with your betrothed, as well as his siblings, the more you came to realize it. Silvery, and pale, with features not quite like anyone else, they truly were lovely and unique. Perhaps one day Aemond would give you one of your own. A tiny white haired dragon with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. You smiled in mid-prayer and allowed your mind to wander. When it came time to visit the Maiden’s altar, you could ask for her forgiveness in regard to the impure thoughts that ran rampant in your mind. 

After visiting and praying at the altars for the Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, and Stranger, and after many stolen touches and lingering gazes, you two finally exited the Sept with Arryk close behind. The carriage ride back was lighter than the first. You crossed a leg over the other so it pointed in Aemond’s direction, and behind the little shield of your knee his larger palm rested atop yours.

Upon returning to the Red Keep Aemond was almost immediately swept away by a list of duties and “royal chores” – whatever that meant – that he’d fallen behind on since spending more time with you in the Sept than was expected. You were beginning to read him better and better all the time. While others might not take note of it (sternness and practiced neutrality a theme for the young prince) you saw the bristle of annoyance along his edges as Otto took him away. You barely had time to say goodbye. Walking alongside his grandfather, Aemond turned his head over his shoulder one last time and offered you a small, barely there smile and tilt of his head. Your own lips pressed into a restrained grin as you offered a wave just as small. You hoped he’d at least be able to have dinner with you tonight. Until then, there were many wedding plans and gossip for you to busy yourself with. 

During the evening’s meal you were distracted and hungry. “If you could summon him by staring at the door he’d already be here, my lady,” Jane whispered to you sympathetically. “Let’s try to at least enjoy the wine, yes?" She served herself a plate and helped you with yours. "Ah… it reminds me of back home. We’d be getting ready for the dance of the moonlight jellies! It’s tomorrow night! I hate to miss it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed.” Her expression changed from melancholy, to excitement, to pouting, and you followed right along with her. She tried to soften her pout with a little smile.

“Ah! Gods we would be, huh? Oh, I can’t believe it. This will be the first one I’ve ever missed too. Such a pity. It’s always been my favorite event of the summers.” Your gaze went distant for a moment, fingertip gently circling the rim of your goblet. So far there definitely hadn’t been any sign of Aemond. Nor Aegon or Otto for that matter. Alicent and your father were busy chatting away – assumedly about more wedding plans – and Helaena patiently ate and helped feed her children in turn. There were other noble ladies and men around the table as there were most nights. You couldn’t keep up with all the conversation around, and frankly didn’t care to, because you kept watching the main entrance dreamily as if Aemond would stroll through it at any moment. Jane always knew how to pull you out of your little daydreams. “I almost wish you hadn’t reminded me because now I’m sad,” you laughed.

“Not my intention!” She giggled despite the defensiveness of her tone. “I think it’s lovely your wedding will be so close to the dance. Perhaps they’ll allow us a bonfire in celebration too.”

“Perhaps! Though… I do admit… – ” you dropped your voice low and leaned closer to Jane so no one else might hear what you said “ – I don’t know how long after the vows I’ll be able to stay. The bedding ceremony follows soon after, yes?”

Jane squealed. “You unholy woman!”

You two broke off into fits of giggles and entirely unladylike banter. You did your very best to stay hushed, however, not wanting just anyone to hear the things you were saying about your betrothed. In fact, such talk was more suited for bedchambers and private groups – not the middle of dinner. You both got a few side eyes and raised eyebrows. Even your father gave you the look on two separate occasions. Whoops. Maybe the wine was affecting you more than you realized. Finishing the remainder of your food, you stood and walked to give your father’s cheek a goodnight kiss.

“Take some water and drink it before you fall asleep! You little wildling,” he called after you.

There was already a full pitcher of water in your bedchamber, but that didn’t stop Jane from grabbing an extra just in case.

By now you were both learning the halls of the Red Keep. The main hallways, that is. There was much more to the sprawling castle than you knew, and to say it was intimidating and overwhelming was an understatement. Thankfully – by the God's small graces – its main flow was easy enough to learn and navigate.

“When the castle was complete under King Maegor’s rule, he had all the builders executed to ensure only the Targaryen’s knew its hidden passages and secrets,” Aemond had told you during one of your earlier explorations of the castle. You hadn’t a reason to doubt him. But, even if you did, you knew in your bones he spoke the truth.

How different he was than any boy you knew from home. A true Targaryen from the blood of Old Valyria. You, naught but a sweet, delicate grape, held inside the claw of a mighty beast; how easily he could skin you whole. His steady eye observed you, studied you; the tips of his roughened fingers gingerly accepting your more forward affections so those tips might learn the utter softness of your flesh.

Inside your room you readied for sleep. "A bonfire on the beach in honor of the Arbor's celebration being prepared as we speak…," you spoke dreamily, eyes a little distant as you envisioned Aemond experiencing it for the first time.

Jane's delicate fingers loosened your day's braid before brushing any tangles out. "Surely you know the rumors of the prince…," she said, baiting you, arching a brow at you through the mirror.

"There's quite a few. You'll have to be more specific," you replied similarly.

"He doesn't dance! At all. The only dancing he's done is in the sky on his dragon. Or dancing with foes in the training yard and skirmishes." 

You knew of these rumors, of course. "I suppose he'll need some practice before the wedding then, yes?"

Your best friend and lady-in-waiting smirked and rolled her eyes. "And I suppose you think you'll be the one to teach the tall lanky prince how to dance on a whim?"

"He's not lanky!" 

You both laughed and continued the banter until you were dressed comfortably for bed. She bid you a goodnight and kiss on the forehead before leaving to retire to her own chamber. Sleep came easily that night. Sweet wine coated your palate and you dreamt of embers and jellyfish.

-

The sun barely lightened the sky when you woke. Perfect, you thought to yourself as you stretched with a wide yawn. Excitement pulled at your belly and before you knew it your bare feet padded across the chilly stone floor to your desk. You struck your candle to flame, dipped a quill into its inkpot, and began writing a letter to your soon to be husband. He'd written you many little letters since your arrival, and you'd yet to have one delivered to his room. Before losing inspiration, you wrote,

"My dearest Aemond,

Meet me down at the beach tonight. With it still being high summer the sun doesn't set until late. Please. You won't want to miss this.

Your Lady Redwyne"

Still in your nightgown with only a flimsy robe covering yourself, you cracked the door open and peered outside. Grinning, you hissed a careful whisper, "Louis! Psst, hey Lou!" 

He perked up after the second call of his name. "My Lady? What is it? Is everything okay?" His armor clinked as he strode over to you quickly, kind eyes looking over you for any sign of distress. As soon as he saw your excited glimmer, however, his shoulders softened. "You're perky this morning."

"Take this to Prince Aemond! Please. Before he leaves his chamber for the day. It's important, hurry!" You put the carefully folded letter in his hand and shooed him off. "Thank you," you added before closing and latching the door again, trying to calm the excited wave of butterfly wings in your belly.

Tonight would be magical.

You dressed, braided your hair, donned some of your favorite gold jewelry, and applied perfume to the insides of your wrists, behind each ear, and at the center of your breast. You prayed for the hours to pass quickly as you applied makeup. Accentuating your features always made you feel pretty. There was an art to it too, you realized some years ago, in balancing hues and pigments to your natural skin without looking akin to someone from the theater. Like everything, it took practice. And you were happy with how your skills had grown. With one final tuck of hair here, and twist of hair there, you departed your bedchamber with confidence in your stride.

Breakfast. Going over more wedding plans. Tea and lunch with fellow ladies of the court. A break amidst the gardens. Supper. All without Aemond. The hours flew by and yet the day itself dragged. As soon as you were finished you made a sneaky escape to your horse in the stable. Before your father, or Louis, or even Jane knew what you were up to, you were off. 

Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it. Please let Aemond make it, you said like a mantra to yourself in time with your horse’s pace. The mare wasn't easily spooked and quite prone to biting. It took you at least the first three days to gain her trust, and at least another two to make it so you could saddle and ride her without the assistance of a stable boy who’d been around her nearly his whole life. You pulled all the tricks: oats, apples, even carrots. Finally, after many suspicious huffing fits, the mean she-beasty warmed up to you. Now, she greeted you with happy whinnies and curious snufflings – she’d know if you came without a peace treaty and you weren’t about to try your luck with that yet.

The sun was perhaps two hours from setting when you made it down to the beach to begin collecting wood for a fire. The fresh salty air was warm and you were glad to have worn a thin dress with billowing accents. Waves continuously lapped at the shore and before too long you found yourself in a partial trance. Thoughts in your mind slowed and quieted, and for a moment the sand almost looked like the golden sand of which you were born to.

"My Lady Redwyne," Aemond's soft voice called from behind you. At least he had the decency to let his presence be known before merely arriving out of thin air like he usually did with you. He'd ditched his normal tunic and only wore his thin linen undershirt; its laces only partially tied to expose a tantalizing swath of his collar and chest. Leather in the summer heat could be unbearable and you were glad to see him in less clothing -- for wholly innocent and wholly impure reasons alike. "You picked a fine horse for the ride down here. I trust you have your dagger too?" He asked, eyeing you over approvingly and questioningly.

A smile curled up from your mouth and went right to your eyes. How you missed him. With his hair rippling in the wind, and his shirt giving sight to parts of himself that you'd yet to see, and the tiny pucker of his mischievous lips, a pang rang in your heart. How did you go so long without knowing him? Without being his betrothed? "Of course. I've not gone a single place without it since you gifted it to me in your secret place."

The space between you was closed by his long careful strides in the sand, and he wordlessly took the pile of driftwood from your arms. "There's my good girl. Where would you like these?"

Blushing, you pointed to the stack you'd been working on and said, "just there."

"What is it you're so excited to show me?" He asked once you both gently discarded the driftwood into the pile.

You began stacking it neatly, in the way your father taught you, to make a successful fire. "Every year, when the summers extend beyond one year, the Arbor has a celebration known as 'the dance of the moonlight jellies'," you said fondly, looking over to him with distant, happy eyes. "The final preparations would be happening now. It's always been my favorite celebration, and this is the first one I've ever missed."

Aemond listened curiously as he always did whenever you talked about things from home -- whether it be stories and myths, lore, architecture, or anything else. "Tell me about it, my Lady."

A wistful sigh escaped your lungs. "On the western part of the island, out into the Sunset Sea, there is a breed of jellyfish who migrate along our coastline. We build bonfires along the beach and out on the docks as far as we can. These jellies are special because they glow," you smiled, movements continuing on muscle memory as you struck a fire to life. "They make the water look as if a hundred thousand fires were beneath the surface. Everyone from the highest houses down to the most rugged Flowers join together for the night. We sing, and dance, and drink spiced wine." By now your own little fire was coming more and more to life. "All while they slowly drift along with the ocean's current." By the end of the explanation you were sitting and beginning to work your shoes off your feet.

All the while, Aemond listened and imagined such a thing even happening. There was nothing like that around here. He never journeyed far from home for too long either, for his princely and second son's duties kept him tied down to King's Landing -- more specifically, the court of the Red Keep -- with a short leash. The more he learned from you, the more he realized he truly knew nothing of the Arbor. "Everyone? The nobles and the bastards?"

"Yes, my prince. All is cast aside for the night. It is truly that important to the people and tradition."

Golden sun washed over the young prince as he looked out to the ocean. Pensive. A few moments of silence followed as you both quietly observed the continuous lap of waves. When he turned his attention back to you his pupil was so small from the sun that the lilac of his iris was all you could see. "I would fly you there tonight if things were different in our world, now."

Guilt rushed to your throat. "Oh, Aemond, no. That is not what I meant by any of this," you said with meaning as you found yourself straddling over his lap with his lovely sharp face between your hands. "I am sad to miss it, yes, of course. But that is why I'm here now. And that is why I wanted you to join me here and now too, so I could share this special time with you." You gently pressed your forehead to his, the tip of your nose fitting against his bridge. A soft smile pulled on your lips when his mouth brushed yours in a whispering kiss.

Lips led to tongues, and soon to teeth, and Aemond's hands traced along your hips and waist all the while. Goosebumps tickled your skin despite the warmth of the air and fire. The press of his hands, the weight of them, had you panting against his mouth. Leaning back, he grinned slyly. "Let us stop before we cannot." He gave your hip a firm squeeze before slowly, slowly, letting go of you against him.

"I want so badly to be your wife...," you whispered sincerely. "Before, though, there is one more thing I need to share with you." Heat crept into your face, yet this blush had nothing to do with the coil of arousal in your belly and all to do with the humiliation in which you were going to show your soon to be husband.

Confusion and worry instantly shifted his features. "What is it, sweetling?"

Emotion welled in your eyes and it took a great deal of strength to not let tears fall from your clumpy eyelashes. "Promise you won't change your mind about me either?"

He ran a thumb across your freckled cheek. Your sweet doe-brown eyes ripped at his heart. "I promise."

You offered a soft sad smile before carefully moving from atop his lap. Shifting, you instead sat between his legs with your own outstretched before both of you. You pulled your legs up at the knee so your feet were flat and fully exposed for both of your visions. On each foot, the second and third toe were fully fused together, and a small webbing of skin connected the base of all your toes together. Without looking over your shoulder to Aemond, you explained, "it is a bad omen." As if he wasn't connecting the dots you pointed out your deformity. "Akin to your eye it is a cloak of shame for me. In our mythos it is said it only happens to those who had a twin in the womb... but ended up killing the twin. It is said we are cursed, for we are bloodthirsty like sharks. Only the strongest survive. So we are born with these to let everyone know we are capable of kinslaying as only babes."

Aemond pushed his fingers against the side of your jaw so you were forced to look back at him. His face was somehow soft and stern alike. "Then you are my bloodthirsty little babe. Dragons do not share their egg with another dragon. If the mythos is true, then you are the strongest. And it was you who was born for a reason." He kissed you again, fiercer, this time, and the salt of your tears clung to his tongue.

The sun's golden rays disappeared beyond the curve of the ocean and a spill of reds, oranges, and pinks filled the sky instead. "Dance with me, Aemond. I don't care if you don't know how to. No one is around to see. It can be another one of our secrets," you forced a tiny laugh through the emotion which swelled your throat. You smiled, genuine, and helped him stand.

There were no drums, nor string instruments, nor anything else but the rolling roars of waves as you and Aemond danced beneath the growing moonlight with only your fire as witness.

-

The following morning you were surprised to see everyone already at the table eating. Aegon, Helaena, their children, Alicent, Otto, Aemond, and your father. Happiness filled in your chest at the idea of sharing a meal with Aemond – he’d been so busy you two hadn’t been afforded the luxury for what seemed days. You and Jane shared a little look as you strolled to the empty seat next to your betrothed. Polite greetings filled the table. It all looked and smelled wonderful. 

“Good morning, my prince. Is there an occasion I’m unaware of?” you asked as you began dishing up. Ever since you could remember you were always most hungry in the mornings.

“Good timing on everyone’s part, I’m assuming.”

Beneath the table, he bumped his leg against yours and gave you a half-sly side glance. Manners were important to him, and sharing a table with so many kin meant his bump, and his face, was likely all the flirting that would happen this morn.

It didn’t go unnoticed by you nor the King. Where you smiled coyly and shared the look with Aemond, Aegon snorted. “I forgot to ask, brother, did you and Lady Redwyne enjoy your little adventure out to your rock? I heard she had sweet little bruises all over her tender flesh that night. I don’t blame you for not wanting to wait. She’s supple as any peach,” he said brazenly, finishing the remainder of his wine in a single gulp. “More,” he said to everyone and no one alike. Holding his goblet out to be refilled, he chuckled and flashed his best smile to you. Judging by the glaze over his eyes, and the dark circles beneath them, this wasn’t the first cup of wine he’d had. 

You tensed. Aemond tensed. At your side, and beneath the table too, Jane gripped your hand tightly. Lord Redwyne glared at King Aegon but dared not say anything – at least not yet – in fear of what the drunken King might do.

“Aegon Targaryen!” Alicent hissed to her oldest son, dark eyes blazing. “King or no, that is extremely inappropriate. How dare you speak to your brother and future sister-in-law in such a way in front of everyone!”

“What? I’m only expressing my happiness to my little brother for finally getting it wet. And with a girl so pretty too. Prettier than any whore I’ve seen.”

Jane squeezed your hand hard as Aemond’s and your father’s chair toppled backwards with the ferocity in which they stood.

“Says the man who took me to a brothel when I was only three and ten–”

“King or not I will not sit here and let some boy talk about my daughter in such a manner you insolent–”

Aemond’s voice and Lord Redwyne’s voice boomed into one, their words meshing in a mess of hollars as Alicent joined in the scolding. Polished silver clattered loudly and silently alike onto the stone floor. Who had thrown it?

You were struck dumb. If this is what broke out during an otherwise ordinary meal, what happened behind closed doors? During small council meetings? Stress weighed on the entire kingdom and the family before you bore the bulk of it. Everyone’s nerves hung by a thread: a thread which could be snapped as easily as a dried twig by a stupidly careless remark. Embarrassment burned your face and hot tears threatened to spill from your welling eyes. This was nothing short of a nightmare and you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

Your ears muffled as if you were under water. You weren't sure how much time had passed. Even Otto stood, his voice adding to the yelling.

“Come, Princess Emeline,” Helaena’s soothing voice whispered delicately against your ear. Her hand, beautifully pale and impossibly soft, grabbed for your own and pulled you from your chair amidst the yelling. She ushered you away. Crimson wine dripped onto the floor from where it was spilled atop the table.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” you stammered, frantically swiping tears from your cheeks. 

“I am sorry for the way my husband is acting. If I am to be honest… we received extremely troubling news about Rhaenyra and Daemon this morning. Even if no one will admit it, this war has everyone scared.”

Despite the meaning of her words, she, outwardly, seemed calm.

Not having anything intelligent to say, you squeezed her hand reassuringly. No one followed you ladies out. At a glance, it appeared guards were watching and taking note of your movements through the halls. Helaena turned here, and there, and before you knew it you were standing out by the weirwood. It loomed tall and wide. It cast a shadow of mysticism. Tranquility. For the first time since arriving in the dining hall you breathed a true lungful of air. And then another.

"You are a strong swimmer, and Aemond a strong flier. Both, and more, will be required in the coming time," Helaena spoke dreamily as she led you to an ancient camellia tree. "Two fruits of one, and one of two," she continued to muse aloud. She laid back in the vibrant petals fallen amongst the grass, and you followed along. "Have you ever noticed how red this camellia is? It hardly seems real."

Your vision turned from her to the tree. Leaves of green and flowers of red contrasted starkly against the blue morning sky. A breeze moved through the air and a petal slowly fell to land on the center of your abdomen. "I've never seen one this size before," you said in the serene quietness. Comfort seeped into your bones as you watched fluffy clouds drift across the sky.

A thin long legged spider crawled across Helaena’s outstretched hand. She watched the tiny creature as if it were the most magnificent thing. “You make my brother happy. Thank you for that, princess,” she said, not taking her attention away from the spider. “He bears much and carries more.”

Helaena’s words sent something like love fluttering in your belly as you regarded the gentle far-seeing Queen. Her white hair fanned around her head like a halo on the crimson petals; violet eyes distant and unfocused. “Thank you, Your Grace,” is all you replied, not wanting to break her other-worldly concentration. 

She continued to mutter quiet things about: from two to one, moving shadows, and cracked shells. 

Tranquil minutes passed. You became lost in the garden of your mind.

“My Lady…,” Aemond’s voice broke through your reverie. “I apologize for what happened.” He extended a hand to you, silently offering to help you up from the grass. “Allow me to take you to your chambers?”

You nodded and accepted his hand. “Yes, please,” you said as you stood and brushed any debris or wrinkles from your dress. Emotion swelled up from your diaphragm to the back of your throat and it took a steadying breath, or three, to push it down. Stress and tension simmered inside you and it threatened to boil over.

“Thank you, sweet sister, for getting her away,” Aemond said. Helaena only briefly regarded him and offered a short wave. 

Aemond held you close as you both walked the halls to your bedchamber. Beneath the scents of smoke (which clung so close to him you swore it seeped from his own pores), leather, and bathing oils, he smelled like clean sweat. It wasn’t at all unpleasant. If anything it made you want to bury your face into his neck and not come out for hours. Hurt weighed on your heart. 

You missed home. You missed the sense of normalcy you'd known your whole life. So many things were different here. You clung to Jane when you could, and even grounded yourself to Louis, and of course found comfort in your father. Thank the Seven they were all here. If they weren't, you might very well have turned around in Blackwater Bay as soon as you arrived.

Here, now, you clung to Aemond. Your prince who regarded you with compassion, curiosity, and gentleness, so unlike the way you'd seen him interact with anyone else. It only made you want to draw those tender moments out from him more.

"Aegon is vile. And an idiot," he said as soon as your chamber door was securely shut. You stood facing each other in the gentle sunbeams of your quarter; still somewhat bare and lacking your personal touch. "He is drunk but that is no excuse for him to behave in the way he did. Are you alright?" Both his hands cupped your face in reverence, his single eye peering between both of yours as if deciphering your thoughts like scrawled words on parchment.

Hesitation hung in the air before you nodded. "Yes, I'm alright, my pr-, Aemond," you caught his title before it fell from your lips, whispering his name instead.

"Your Aemond. You are correct, princess," he smiled and tipped his head down to meet your lips in a tender kiss. "No harm will come to you whether it be from my kin or enemy alike. Do you understand me? As my betrothed, and even more so once you are my wife." His gaze was only sharp, now, face stern, lacking any of its previous softness.

Searching his features and posture, you, once again, hesitated before asking in a voice that could have been lost in a space any louder than the one you currently shared, "you promise?"

"I promise."

-

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow and/or reblog and/or letting me know! It would make me vvvery happy ♥ See you in chapter 5 where there will be wedding bells!

masterlist

taglist: to be added or removed, please say something ♥ bold means I could not tag you

@melsunshine @iiamthehybrid @arcielee @nina2697 @darylandbethfanforever9 @sahvlren @targaryenbrainrot @bellaisasleep @watercolorskyy @ruby-dragon @aemonds-fire @meggiemay82 @doublesparrows @silverwinged @nikstrange @castellomargot @lost-and-founds @chompchompluke @sirenofavalon @okfashionista @girlwith-thepearlearring

you did not asked to be added but I thought you might like to know since it has been so flippin long! @borikenlove @abbyandizzysmum @disco--fairy

[hythlodaeus-mynewoldfriend]

Well here we have it! I apologize for the wait time @lily-ohfally but I do hope you enjoy this little piece of Lily and Haurchefaunt having a moment in Shadowbringers. Thank you so much to @sasslett for arranging this swap! It was a lot of fun!

No warnings. word count 1.5k

Time is limited, Lily knows this. Knows that they don’t really have time to relax and take in the scenery, yet how was he to be expected to focus on any of that when it felt like years since he last saw Haurchefant? Well for Haurchefant it really had been, two years to be exact and of all places for him to have ended up Il Mheg was the last place Lily expected.

He would have sooner bet on his beloved to be at the Crystarium waiting for him. “While I did for quite a long while, this place despite appearances felt like home.”, He had told him, something Lily did have a hard time believing when home was cold, snowy and its grey hazy filter overshadowed by the warmth the people living there had. Il Mheg was nothing like that, warm, bright, and a sweetness one could taste on the breeze as it made ripples on the crystal blue lake. Maybe it was the castle that brought back feelings of Ishgard, Lily would have to ask him again when they had a moment’s quiet.

“I am sorry to have kept you waiting my darling,” Haurchefant calls out as he jogs up the hill, his silver hair blown from his blue eyes, smile sparkling, and in some of the most relaxed clothes Lily had seen outside the bedroom, a simple cotton puffed sleeve shirt dyed a soft blue with dark brown pants and black thigh boots. The whole thing makes Lily want to see just how it looked on the ground as his eyes roam up and down, stopping when he lands on his hands. He carries a book with him that Lily looks at curiously with a smile.

“No need to be. I wasn’t waiting long.” His cheeks darken when Haurchefant sits next to him, arm looping through his. “What was it that you wanted to show me?”

“I simply wanted your company,” he answers, lacing their fingers together, “I also wanted to give you a chance to be honest with how you’re actually holding up. I know it can’t be easy for you being this far from home.”

Lily inhales deeply, “It isn’t, you’re right about that. I want so badly to go back and make sure they’re okay but….” He shakes his head, making his ears fall just a little more in his line of vision, “I am doing something by being away from them. I am ensuring a future for them. If being this far is what it takes then so be it. I will pay the price.”

“Well you are far from alone, so you will not have to carry it alone, my love,” he leans over to kiss his cheek, deepening the red in Lily’s cheeks and bringing a small smile to his face, “And I promise you, we will have you back home before you know it and all will be well.”

Lily nods with a sigh looking over the pink scenery of Il Mheg, catching the glimpse of some pixies fluttering about. “You know I was wondering something, if you’d be willing to indulge me.”

A dangerous smirk plays on the elezen’s features, “For you, I will always indulge.”

“Maybe a bit later,” he chuckles with a nudge, “I’ve been wondering once again  why you chose here.”

Haurchefaunt looks over at him giving a small tilt of his head, “I don’t think I quite understand what you mean.”

“Well I expected to find you at the Crystarium, maybe helping Lyna out with the guard. Instead I find you here with the pixies.”

“If it’s any comfort I did not intend to stay out here when I simply set out to make sure Urianger made it here safe.”

 “Oh, so that’s how it happened, though it shouldn’t surprise me with you love. When I asked the first time, though, you said this place reminded you of home.”

“And you wish to know just how it reminds me of home.” Lily nods, Haurchefaunt looking ahead and closing his eyes taking in the sweet ghostly scent of pine. He lets the feeling of fresh dew grass tickle his skin, the dappled sunlight through the branches of a cedar tree he would lay under as a young man warm his face. When he opens his eyes it's for the briefest of moments that he’s no longer in a foreign land, but home….home from eight years ago. “You spent most of your time in Thanalan, yes? Then you only got to experience my home as the cold and snowy land it has become. Before the Calamity though…..the lands were green, trees were lush, fog and mist only rolled down from the mountains to deliver rain. It was beautiful.” 

“Tell me more, please.” Haurchefant nods starting on stories of his youth, which has Lily closing his eyes listening to the descriptions of an idyllic place, catching glimpses throughout Haurchefaunt’s life with the Echo. The joy radiates from each one and it's one of the few times that Lily can consider it a gift. “I truly wish you could have experienced it before the Calamity. I admit I was disheartened for the amount of time that you stayed in Ishgard, it was long enough to where back then the seasons would have changed from the winter into the beautiful spring when the wildflowers bloomed and the herds of caribou would return. It was a breath of fresh air every year….”

Lily takes in the melancholy in his love’s eyes that dim the nostalgic smile, “Maybe it will one day return,” he says softly with a squeeze of Haurchefaunt’s hand, “It cannot possibly stay that way forever, and when it does return I will be right there with you to take it in.” 

The two bring their lips together, Haurchefaunt’s fingers caressing up Lily’s neck and jawline to rest his hand behind the viera’s neck intensifying the kiss. Lily’s hands start to wander the knight’s toned body looking for the hem of his shirt. Haurchefaunt releases a breathy moan into their kiss when Lily grasps onto his hips. As Haurchefaunt turns to face Lily more the book he brought out with him falls between them, halting the kiss. The two look down at it a moment before they laugh, Haurchefaunt returning to his original seated position not even bothering to fix his more open shirt. 

“What is that?”

“This,” he answers, dusting the book off, “is the other reason I invited you out here. I found this tome at the Cabinet of Curiosity and I thought its contents were just lovely. I wished to share them with you.”

“Oh.” Lily’s eyes go a little wide as he tries to put on a smile. He peers over at the open pages, the letters and words blending together, “Well I do enjoy the sound of your voice.”

“Good. Because I’ve memorized a few so you can follow along and lay in my lap.”

“But I-.”

“You do not need to know any of it, and I am not turning this into a lesson. I simply find that poetry must also be seen along with being read.” Lily tilts his head with a furrowed brow, “Trust me. You will understand soon enough. And do not feel bad for asking me to stop and repeat them. I will recite to your heart’s content.” Haurchefaunt moves to allow for Lily to get into place, flipping the pages to the first poem with its words curving like wind. He clears his throat before starting to recite the poem as Lily’s eyes follow along to the words he can recognize as images form more clearly and the near neutral cadence of the elezen’s voice takes on a more melodic beat with the rise and fall of each word. The echoes of the sea crashing on the shore envelop his ears, salt landing on his tongue and a nostalgia for a place he’s never seen forms in his chest as the words elongate. Enchanting and calming and finished all too soon as Lily is left wanting. Wanting for a place he knows nothing of but can see in his mind’s eye as if he had lived it. Lily had heard many a song, heard lyrics that could make him sad, elated, and inspired but none created the sensations he’s trying to hold onto. Even the books his sister would read to him and used when teaching him couldn’t stir these images for none had their words look as they do in this book. 

He flips through the book catching glimpses of poems that make mountains, ones that keep straight but place themselves all over the page, and some that have words of differing sizes. He beams looking up into Haurchefant’s blue eyes. His smiling face matches his own, running his fingers through Lily’s short hair, something the viera didn’t even know started as the poem took him in, “Shall we move onto the next one?”

Lily shakes his head, “Once more, love.” 

“As you wish.”

[north-blue-hearts]

Heart of Gold

CisFem Reader x Trafalgar Law

CW: ptsd, trauma, depictions/implications of suicide and suicidal ideation, language, violence, blood, canonical character death, mature themes and events 18+

Chapter 10: Rosinante

“What?” Law questions, brows furrowing.

“You said earlier, ‘we don’t get to decide who dies for us’.” You recite. “I will not demand anything, but I have told you of my past, and if you are willing, I would like to know some of yours.”

“Leverage?” He prompts and you shake your head.

“I would sooner cut my own heart out than betray the kindness you and your crew have shown me.” You admit flatly. “I… don’t know. I am equally compelled to know more about you, and also I wish to know more about you.”

“Those sound like identical reasons.” He says flatly, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Perhaps.” You reply coolly. “But they are all I have.”

Law’s quiet for a long moment, and you stay still and silent while he decides. You don’t want to sway him, and you understand the question you’ve asked is a heavy topic indeed.

“His name was Rosinante.” He says quietly. “Donquixote Rosinante. He was Doflamingo’s brother.”

His golden eyes flick up and catch your gaze. There’s understanding in your eyes, but you’re not sure what to say.

“When I was young, the World Government wiped out my hometown.” Law sighs, stepping around and sitting down at the desk. You seat yourself across from him, folding your hands in your lap. “It was a mining town, and the material it mined was toxic. Those in power knew this, but it wasn’t immediately deadly. It built up in the body, and over generations shortened the lifespans of those in the city.”

“It…” You start, and then stop, brows furrowing. “Sorry, continue.”

Law shakes his head. “No, what were you going to say?”

“… Was it Amber Lead?” You question.

Law’s eyes go wide for a second, and it’s all the answer you really need, but he nods. “Yeah.”

“My apologies.” Your voice is quiet.

“You didn’t will those mines into existence.” He says flatly. “No need to apologize.”

You nod softly. “That’s true. My ah- ahem, please continue.”

Law sighs again, letting the heavy breath fill the room for a moment. “The World Government declared it a highly contagious disease and burned the mining town to the ground.” His eyes are focused far away, the memory in his gaze. “To my knowledge, I’m the only survivor.”

“Your parents then, and…” You swallow, the name connected you, but the person associated with it was different. “Lami.”

Law nods. “I couldn’t save them. I barely survived on my own.” He puts a hand up to forestall anything you had to say. “I was just a kid, I’m not trying to blame myself anymore. When I left my hometown, I came upon – well, no, I sought out Doflamingo. Famed pirate in the area.

“In my sorrow I wanted to burn the world and bring it all down with me. I had Amber Lead Poisoning, my time was limited. I thought Doffy would grant my wishes.” A sardonic smile crosses Law’s face. “His brother seemed my biggest obstacle at first, but, ended up becoming someone dear.”

He pauses and you avert your eyes as he takes a moment to compose himself.

“Rosi found a way to save my life. Betrayed Doflamingo to accomplish it, and then died for that betrayal.” He says after a moment, summarizing what you were sure was a long and deeply personal ordeal. “Shortly after he was appointed a Warlord, and has been in the Grandline Metro. As such I’ve spent most of my time moving from island to island, spending as little time as needed in the Metro.”

“All that traveling led you to me.” You prompt, and he nods.

“We came across the island randomly, so that’s fair to say.” He admits. “Are you going to say something like ‘everything happens for a reason’?”

You smile despite yourself but shake your head. “I loathe prophecy.” You admit sadly. “I used to get into arguments with the Seer all the time.”

“You knew her before you lost your emotions?”

You nod. “She was the King’s Seer. She was part of the court. She never told me anything useful, but later on I realized why.” You could feel tears creeping up on you and wiped them away quickly. “I almost wish I could punch her right now.”

“Oh?”

You huff a half-broken laugh. “Yes. She said it wasn’t my time.” You take in a breath and let it out. “She knew I was going to end up here. Knew that…” You shake your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It might.” Law prompts, tilting his head a little. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t force you, but it might help.”

“She knew… that it didn’t matter if I was incased in crystal for a few centuries, I was still going to be here, during this time.” You say bitterly. “She knew – ah.” You wipe your face again. “Sorry.”

Law shakes his head. “It’s alright.” He’s quiet for a moment as you compose yourself. “Did… did Lami perform the surgery on you?”

You can’t bring your eyes to meet his, and you imagine that’s all the answer he needs, but after a few moments you nod. You didn’t want to talk about it at all. You were angry at Lami, bitter toward the Seer, and terrified at the possibility of immortality.

Cursed. Twice over. How could you possibly hope to live a normal life.

“I’ll find a way to reverse it.” Law states. You look up at him in surprise, and disbelief, but he looks back at you with that practiced stoic look he usually has. “If someone could figure out how to separate your emotions from you, then I can figure it out.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, staring at your hands. “If the cost is the same, I refuse.”

“Understood.” Law affirms. “Come on, we should head to the galley for breakfast, before someone comes looking for either of us.”

[gif insert]

Days on the Polar Tang went by.

Cooking with Bepo, Penguin, Shachi or Ikkaku – after a couple weeks you began to do cooking on your own, you and the crew comfortable enough with one another. You assisted Law with research; going over notes you’d already written, making sure nothing was missed, realizing more and more you were going to need more information.

Law had a few destinations in mind, and that helped to direct your otherwise aimless wandering as of late. Conversations with the crew had become more comfortable, and a week later you were approached by Penguin and Shachi.

The two exchanged glances when you smiled up at them, and then sat down across from you in the mess hall. They seemed unusually serious, so once you were done eating, you sat back and regarded them.

“What can I help you with?”

“We’re not meaning to be rude.” Shachi starts.

“But we were thinking about something you said,” Penguin continues. “When you first woke up on the Tang.”

You looked back and forth between them for a moment. “I’ve… said a lot since you found me.” You admit, feeling a little sheepish. “I need more than that.”

“You told the captain you could harm his crew.” Shachi prompts. He’s caught between two emotions – worried about asking, and excited that it could be true.

“You got your emotions back and the bell still doesn’t ring!” Hakugan says, stopping by the table after he realizes what was going on.

It takes you a beat to catch on. It’s everything you have to stifle the laugh bubbling up in you, and you put your hand up for a chance to compose yourself.

“Sorry,” you press your lips together and fold your hands in front of you and manage as business-like a smile as possible. “It was – is – true. But I could not-.”

“Could you teach us?” Shachi and Penguin ask in unison.

“Te-teach?” You stammer, wide-eyed.

“Yeah, it’s got to be some kind of ancient fighting style, right?” Clione adds, leaning onto the table across from Hakugan.

“I… possibly?” You admit. “I believe I’ve sensed your captain and some of your crew using it already. Just… um…” You press your lips together and think for a moment. “But no one seems to know how to use the advanced forms.”

“Advanced?” Bepo questions from the kitchen and you smile even though you can’t see him from your current position.

You nod, speaking up a little since the entire room’s listening anyway. “I believe you refer to them as Observation and Armament Haki. Both of them have advanced forms, and in some rare cases people are able to step beyond even that. Everyone – well, every royal was trained in Haki from a very young age. Even though we had guards, we were often perfectly capable on… our… own.”

Every pair of eyes that were on you were hopeful.

“I… I would feel more comfortable if I spoke about this with the-the Captain.” You say hesitantly. “But I’m not against the idea of teaching everyone.”

Several sets of hands go up in cheer just as Law comes into the mess hall. He looks around and then looks at you.

“I’m assuming they’ve asked already?” He questions, sitting down beside you as you nod.

“Indeed.”

“You don’t mind?” Law inquires, giving you a look as Bepo sets a tray in front of him.

“Oh, no, not at all. I would be happy to do so. I was… I was concerned I would come off arrogant and thought-.”

Law clears his throat. “You’re slipping.” He says, tapping his throat. It had become the crew’s way of letting you know your speech wasn’t informal.

You take a deep breath and consider a moment before replying. “I was worried about being an… an asshole.” You say finally.

Ikkaku has a hand over her mouth and Shachi and Penguin are nearly biting through their lips, but to the crew’s credit they don’t laugh at you.

“You’re worried your status would’ve caused you to come off haughty?” Law offers coolly, and you nod.

“No one thinks you’re haughty.” Penguin pipes up.

“No one on the crew even really things you’re royalty.” Shachi says before nearly panicking. “Ah! Not that we don’t believe you, I just mean – er.”

“You’re not an asshole.” Ikkaku interjects.

“Hakugan.” Law says.

“We should arrive tomorrow.” He answers. “Uni and Clione are going to depart at the main docks, and then we’ll come around to a more secluded port for the rest of us.”

“Perfect. If you’re going to teach advanced armament haki to the crew, I’d rather it be when we’re surfaced.” He states.

“Just the crew?” He stops and gives you a look and then grins.

“I’m a part of the crew.” He says after a minute.

“Am… am I?”

There’s a silence that’s a little longer than you’d like, but Law turns toward you and those yellow eyes seem to be trying to look inside of you.

“Do you want to be?”

“Yes.” You answer promptly.

“Welcome to the Heart Pirates, then, (Y/N).”

[thehangeddemon]

Shards, Part II || Charleson & Leslie || July, 2023

Mason/Leslie: The wall between their minds was thin at best, but still present. Charles had been given a glimpse, but deserved peace. Just this half, this terrible half would be hidden, not his entirety. Years of open telepathy had practiced Mason's skill in dividing himself for this very reason. It was all for Charles, and it was better than barring the connection completely.

Leslie had taken to text between entertaining children and washing the piling mess in the kitchen. There was always something to do, but he was trying. Sending updates with dinner, dessert, what he was doing and what he planned to do. Little innocent details to keep Tristan in the loop, waiting for Charles to return downstairs.

Charles: For a moment, he'd carved out a sliver of peace. Nightmares still threatened at the fringes of his mind, but with the familiar heat and scent of his husband so close, Charles managed to slip into a doze.

Light though it was, his sleep was blessedly dreamless. He might have made it through the night, if the drugs he'd taken had not worn off. He shifted, and pain lanced up his side, spurring from sleep. He let out a ragged gasp and sat up.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered, fearing he might have disturbed Mason's rest.

Mason: Mason remained in a state of twilight, eyes closed, breathing deep and steady. All for one man. His chest belonged to him. His arm around his husband's shoulders, kept safe, if not for reality creeping in.

"Baby, don't do that." He pressed a kiss into his temple and sighed.

"Either I'm gettin' ya medicine or I'm findin' that witch." He was simply too tired to bother with a name.

Charles: "I just didn't mean to wake you." If he'd already done so, there was really no need to whisper. Still, he kept his voice low. The peace was fragile.

"Let's not bother Leslie." He'd done so much already, and as dearly as Charles loved him, that bone mending had been... difficult. Better to let his ribs heal the old-fashioned way.

"I'll call for Hank to bring something. Please stay." For Mason's sake, as much as his own.

Mason: Mason cracked his eyes open, breathing deep and slow but having nowhere for his disapproval to go. He didn't want to hear his husband scream again, but whatever horrors the witch gave, peace followed.

But the part of his mind open to his beloved knew that path was now closed.

"Hurry back."

Charles: He wasn't going anywhere. Not really. He shifted gingerly to the edge of the bed, masking a wince and a groan as he moved. No sense in causing undue worry. Mason hadn't slept for nearly long enough.

His mind brushed Hank's cautiously at first, but the beast of a mutant was just as on edge as everyone else he loved, it seemed. A silent request, one that was answered in the affirmative. He waited from his perch on the mattress until the soft knock sounded.

He inhaled deeply as he rose. It was the only sound he'd allow himself, even as he shuffled his way to the door. He opened it just a crack, thanking Hank in low tones before shutting it with a click.

He wanted to wash down the little white pill with a glass of scotch. But that was a terrible idea, and the thought of walking all the way to his study put it fully to rest. He swallowed it dry and eased back onto the mattress.

Mason: Mason was sitting up with his back to the headboard by the time Charles returned. Hands on his thighs, waiting patiently to invite him back to the warmth of his chest. He would lay however he was required for the telepath to rest.

Apologizing was a waste of words at this point. The obvious was there out in the open. I should have been there. I should have found you sooner. I should have done more. But logic was soap, and guilt ink on his skin.

"Want me t'lay back?"

Charles: "You're supposed to be asleep." Not a scolding. There simply wasn't enough heat behind it. He was too tired, and Mason was a beacon in the dark, despite his position.

"Please," he agreed, inching slowly and carefully toward that warmth.

Mason: Then back he would go. As flat as Charles desired. Little different than fluffing a pillow. Much as Lawrence had tended to him hours ago, his arm was open, and warm around his shoulders. Same love language, same soul.

"Leslie's lookin' for Kurt," he mumbled.

Charles: He sank against him. It was nearly as soothing as sinking into a hot bath. Only thing better would be a bath together. It was an appealing thought, but he was just so drained.

"Yeah? Does he need to go home?" It would make sense. Tristan must have been worried sick. Guilt tugged at him to consider it. He needed to find some way to thank his little rescue team, and those closest to them. Something to think about later. Too much for his head to wrap around, now.

Mason: His mouth opened, letting an exhale escape between his lips. He wanted - no, he wouldn't. Saying what he had felt would only sour the carefully constructed atmosphere.

"He's found him. Rec room." He turned his head, burying his nose in dark tresses.

"He'll be up to say goodbye in a minute."

Charles: "All right." Charles had no intention to move. His bad manners would have to be forgiven. He pressed his lips to Mason's chest.

"What is it?" Because of course he hadn't missed that. "What's on your mind? Talk to me."

Mason: "It's not for me t'say, now is it?" It wasn't his thoughts, but the very subject now making his way upstairs.

Charles: Charles would wait for Leslie's knock as well, but he'd make no effort to leave the bed, only sit up enough to look at the door.

"Come in."

Leslie: The door opened with a crack. Strawberry blond hair sticking through, a blond five o'clock shadow finally making an appearance.

"Hey."

Charles: "Hey." He managed a small smile, for Leslie's benefit. He must have been as tired as any of them. "Heading home?"

Leslie: "Yeah. Couldn't go without saying goodbye. You need anything?"

Charles: "Not at all. Thank you so much, Les. For absolutely everything. Go home and get some rest. Apologize to Tristan for me?"

Mason/Leslie: "Only one who needs to apologize is me. Don't start - "

"We're workin' on it. Go home."

At least there they could agree. With a wave of his hand, the door closed behind him with a click.

Charles: He'd had his mouth open to offer a retort when he was interrupted. He was still too tired to scold, but it was a near thing.

"Bye! I'll ring you tomorrow."

He fell back against Mason's chest with a huff and a wince. Never mind. He could scold a little bit.

"You should have let me finish. He dropped everything for us. He shouldn't feel the least bit guilty."

Mason: "Mhm." This was a non-argument simply because Mason had his eyes closed, his muscles relaxed, and his head - he was attempting to empty it. It wasn't an argument because he didn't care about the witch enough to defend him. He just wanted Charles to rest.

"Ya want Gina brought here?"

Charles: Now he definitely didn't have the energy to scold any more. He pressed his cheek to that warm chest and sighed.

"I... why? I'm not opposed, or anything. I just don't know why she'd want to be here."

Mason: "'Cause Lawr won't shut the hell up about her, n'it'll be my turn, next."

It was an uncomfortable subject to broach, be it now or next week, but Lawrence held a prediction in his grasp, and Mason had an inkling of its accuracy.

Best to know now, so Lawrence could prepare his family for visits.

Charles: That felt... unfair. Gina was a lovely woman, but she hadn't been taken. Hadn't been... still too fresh. Too much. He couldn't fathom Mason being out of reach for an hour, let alone days at a time. He could feel his pulse begin to race at the thought, ridiculous tears burning his eyes. What was wrong with him?

He shut his eyes before they could fall and took a steadying breath. "I'm... That's fine. She can come. I don't... It's fine."

Mason: That was all they needed. All Mason was willing to tolerate. He couldn't squeeze his husband as tightly as he'd prefer, but he could cradle him. For now, until he was strong enough to sleep on his chest without wincing, as he was meant to.

"It's fine. It's fine," soothed the demon.

Charles: Even with that gentle soothing, it took a while for his breathing to slow, and his heart to follow. His hands eventually stopped their trembling. He still felt like weeping, but he suppressed the urge. If he started, he didn't think he'd be able to stop. Hadn't he cried enough in the morgue?

Oh. Not the place he needed to revisit. He forced it away. Forced away everything but the steady rise and fall of his husband's chest.

"I'm sorry."

Mason: He could tell him again to stop. He didn't need an apology. He didn't want one, and Charles didn't deserve the guilt. But, there were times, he knew, when you just needed to say it. The catharsis outweighed the logic.

The record player across the room came to life. Chopin. Nocturnes. The record scratched to life. He kissed his husband's hair.

"Quiet."

Charles: There really weren't words to describe the depth of his love. It could only be felt.

The music soothed his frayed nerves. Blocked out the worst of the dark thoughts.

He did cry, then. A raw purge of everything he'd held onto since waking. His tears were blessedly silent. They might have gone unnoticed, if not for the sheer volume of them, and the way they shook his battered frame.

He wept until there was nothing left but Mason, and the gentle music. He was completely spent. He could probably sleep for three days.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU II | [15] TIME OF DECISION

Daryl Dixon x oc!Charlie

Summary: Charlie once again doubts Rick’s decisions. She’s not convinced to the rightfulness of the mission. She has to pick who she wants to protect. Her choice brings consequences.

Warnings: guns, language, walkers, mention of killing, and typical twd things if I missed sth

Words: 4.258

A/N: Hello :) I would like to apologize for not uploading a chapter, but I finished it just moments ago. I was busy with exams for the past month. I promise that next chapter will be published sooner as I want to finish it today/tomorrow. Thank you for reading and your comments, I absolutely love reading them!

Rick had called a meeting, and everyone in Alexandria had gathered, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern. The church, once a place of peace and reflection, now felt like the heart of their troubled community. Charlie glanced at Andy, who stood silently beside her. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and the faint lingering traces of candle wax. The evening light filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the floor. Rick stood at the front, his presence commanding attention.

"We have food. But they're not giving it away," said Rick. "Those Saviors, almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham. Now, sooner or later they would've found us, just like those Wolves did." he said, looking around at people's faces. "Just like Jesus did. They would have killed someone or some of us. And own us. Then, low on food, we would loose. This is the only way. But this needs to be a group decision." he added after his speech. "If anyone objects, raise your hand."

"Isn't it already made?" Cass asked, fixing glasses on his nose.

"You sure we can beat them?"

"I have the same question."

"After everything we've been through...yes. I'm sure," Rick nodded.

What we Rick was talking about? - was Charlie's first thought. Because Alexandria's residents were still green when it came to fighting, guns, weapons, and walkers. They had survived, yes, but they had done so mostly behind the safety of their walls, relying on the seasoned fighters like Rick and his group. The Survivors group was experienced. They had been hardened by countless battles, losses, and near-death experiences.

"Then that's what we tell them." Morgan interrupted Charlie's thoughts.

"They don't compromise." Rick shook his head.

"It's not a compromise," Morgan disagreed. "It's a choice. It's a way out for them and for us."

"We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety." answered Rick with annoyance in his voice. "We have to come for them, before they come for us. They always come back."

"They comeback when they're dead, too."

"We'll stop them. We have before."

"I'm not talking about the walkers." Morgan's words hanged in the air.

She had seen her fair share of death, had lost people she cared about, and each loss left a scar. These scars weren't just physical but etched deeply into her psyche. The faces of the dead often visited her in quiet moments, their memories a constant reminder of what she had lost. Charlie knew better than anyone what Morgan's words meant.

There was a palpable tension between the two men, a silent battle of wills. Morgan's stance was calm, yet resolute, his eyes reflecting a deep-seated belief in his pacifist philosophy. Rick, on the other hand, was a warrior, a leader who believed in fighting to protect what they had built.

"Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people still at home." Rick said. "I'll discuss it with people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?"

"What happened here, we won't let happen again." said determined Aaron. "I won't."

"Well, looks like it's settled." Charlie said, catching Rick's eyes. Just by this short interaction, he knew that Charlie wasn't on his side. Not by her own will, at last. "We kill them all."

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, a calm settled over the walls of Alexandria. The air grew cooler, carrying with it a sense of relief after another day of tension. The day had been long. But now, in this quiet moment, Charlie and Daryl found solace in each other's presence. He leaned back against the bed, while Charlie nestled herself closer, feeling the warmth of his presence. They didn't need to speak at first; the silence between them was comfortable, a shared understanding that words weren't always necessary.

"I feel as if today lasted ten years."

Daryl chuckled.

"I'm glad you're here, Daryl. With me."

He turned to look at her, his blue eyes meeting her gaze. "Always gonna be here, Charlie. Ain't going nowhere."

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Good. Because I don't think I could do this alone...Not anymore."

They lapsed into silence again, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Charlie leaned her head against Daryl's shoulder, closing her eyes briefly. "Do you ever think about what it would be like if it all was suddenly gone?" she murmured.

"No."

"Why?" Charlie asked.

"We have bigger troubles now," he answered.

"Hmm."

Charlie's mind raced with possibilities, each one darker than the last. She felt a tightening in her chest, the weight of fear pressing down on her. She nestled closer, resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, a calming rhythm that began to ease her anxiety.

"You've been quiet," he remarked. "What's on your mind?"

"What if everything gets worse?"

"It always might get worse."

"But now it feels as if we're asking for it."

"Don't worry," he said, closing his eyes. "I'll watch your back."

"You're good at it."

Daryl chuckled, sensing the double meaning in her words.

He thought about the rare moments of laughter they shared, the bond that had grown between them. In a world filled with so much darkness, Charlie was a beacon of light, and he was determined to protect her at all costs. He tightened his hold on her, his mind settling into a quiet contentment.

With fingers tangled in her hair, and a thought of her, he fell asleep.

Birds chirped in the distance, and the fresh scent of pine filled the air. Charlie stirred, blinking awake. She sat up, stretching the sleep from her limbs and glancing over at Daryl, who was still asleep beside her. Carefully, she stood and made her way down to the kitchen. The wooden stairs creaked softly under her feet as she descended, the smell of cooking drawing her toward the kitchen. As she stepped into the warm, sunlit kitchen, she found Carol busy at the stove, her hands deftly moving as she prepared breakfast.

"Hey," Charlie smiled. The woman was deep in her own thoughts, so her sudden voice made her jump.

"Hello, Sweet Thing," she forced smile on her lips. "Hungry?"

"No. I don't think I'll swallow anything," Charlie said and walked closer. "Carol."

"Hmm?"

"Could you help with my hair?"

They moved to the living room, where the sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow on the worn furniture. Carol settled on the couch and patted the space in front of her. Charlie sat down on the floor, her back to Carol, and handed her a hairbrush. As the older woman began to brush Charlie's hair, the repetitive motion was soothing her nerves. Charlie closed her eyes, letting herself relax under the gentle touch.

"You used to do that a lot in the past," Charlie smiled, feeling Carol's fingers working fast.

"Sophia never had hair like that," she said. "Always keeping it short."

"I remember," Charlie nodded lightly, remembering the little girl. In her mind, Sophia was still a little girl, but she would be a teenager now, probably around fourteen or fifteen - like Carl. She pictured her with the same kind, intelligent eyes. Her hair, likely a dark blonde, would fall in waves, maybe even with a few braids like the one Carol had just done for her. "I miss the quarry."

"Really?" Carol raised her eyebrows.

"Things seemed simpler then. I wish I could just go back and tell myself what I know now."

"What do you mean?"

"Rick and Michonne," Charlie said out of nowhere. "Do you know when it started?"

"Maybe when we were apart?"

"Yeah...Maybe," she sighed. "What I mean is that things were simpler at the beginning. All we had to worry about were the Walkers. But we were together," she sighed. "Now we have to worry about those people, Hilltop, Saviors...And I don't even remember when I saw all of you. Together."

"We're together," Carol argued.

"We live next to each other," Charlie corrected. "But we're not together anymore."

Carol stood still, the words sinking in. Looking back in time, she saw the small group of people working together, the shared meals, and the nights spent around the fire.

"Oh, Sweet Thing."

She thought back to the early days, when their group had been smaller, more intimate. They had leaned on each other for everything, their bond forged in the fires of constant danger and loss. But as time had passed, as they had settled into a routine, something had shifted.

"Can I ask you a question?" Charlie asked after a rather long moment of silence.

"Sure."

"Why are you calling me Sweet Thing?"

"Well...Because from the very beginning you were so sweet to me," Carol explained. "You were taking care of Sophia. And then of me..."

Charlie froze in her spot. Her heart sank in her chest, knowing so well that being sweet was never her intention. At the beginning, since four men were pointing their guns at her, everything was a strategy. She was helping them, smiling at everyone, but in her head she was judging every single person, Carol included. "I've never been sweet," she answered. "I was trying to survive. And by being an awful person to you...All of you would have made me leave."

"Charlie..."

"No, really," she shook her head. "I've always been a bad person. I...Sometimes I think that me losing my family, or that everyone I care about dies, or my mental condition is just karma."

Carol's heart ached at the raw pain in Charlie's voice. She looked at her friend, seeing not the flaws Charlie saw in herself, but the strength and resilience that had kept her going through unimaginable hardship. She stepped closer, her expression softening.

"I think I never told you this...I love you, Sweet Thing." Carol leaned in and wrapped her hands around the younger woman. "You're not a bad person, Charlie. You're one of the strongest, most caring people I know. We all have our demons, but that doesn't make us bad."

Charlie felt the weight of Carol's words settle into her heart, a warmth spreading through her chest. "I don't feel strong," she admitted, her voice trembling. "Most days, I feel like I'm barely holding on."

"It's okay to feel that way," Carol's voice broke. "Just remember you're not alone."

In Carol's embrace, Charlie could almost imagine that she was a child again, seeking comfort and reassurance from her mother. The warmth and security she felt were unlike anything she had experienced in a long time. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but they were tears of release, of letting go of the burden she had carried for so long.

The air was crisp, filled with the promise of a new day, yet the tension among the group was palpable. Today was the day they would confront the Saviors. The convoy of vehicles rumbled down the dirt road, dust kicking up in their wake. The forest next to the road was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird. She walked over to where Andy stood, her heart heavy with the weight of what was to come.

"You don't have to do this," Charlie said.

She understood the importance of showing unity and giving everyone a chance. Andy had shown promise during training, but he lacked the experience and composure that seasoned members of the group possessed. This mission required precision, focus, and a deep understanding of the stakes. Charlie worried that Andy's inexperience could jeopardize everything.

And what's more important that he would end up dead.

"I know," Andy nodded. "But I want to prove my worth."

"Andy, you better find a different way of proving whatever you need to prove and leave this thing to experienced people."

"I have to do this," he argued. "Even Carl is better than me. A teenager with one eye," Andy said nervously, but calmed himself as he met Charlie's warning glance. "Look, I have to be here. Even the priest is here."

"Which isn't a good omen, too." Charlie mumbled under her breath, stabbing Gabe in the face...just in her mind, of course.

Gabe caught her whispered words. He turned to her, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I've been called worse omens, Charlie," he said, his voice light but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "But last I checked, divine intervention wasn't something to scoff at in times like these."

"There's no turning back now." she rolled her eyes at his witty comment.

"I could walk. Maybe run a little, maybe a lot. I'm not going anywhere. Your people taught me for a reason."

"Yeah, for a reason unknown to me," Charlie scoffed and passed him, hearing Andy's fast steps behind.

"I don't get it," he said. "Why do you hate him so much."

Charlie's mind whirred at the question. She hadn't really thought deeply about her animosity toward Gabe. It had always been there, a simmering undercurrent of irritation and mistrust. She searched her feelings, trying to pinpoint the root of her resentment. Was it his unwavering faith that seemed naïve in such a brutal world? Or perhaps it was his calm demeanor, which she found frustrating in the face of constant danger?

Maybe it's because he represents something she felt she had lost. Hope. Faith. Things buried under layers of survival instincts. But none of that was something she was ready to unpack, especially not now. "I just do," she shrugged. "Now, stop thinking about him, and focus."

"I am focused."

"I'm serious, Andy," she said, realizing how his small smile was annoying her, as if it was some kind of game for him. In the face of danger, Charlie realized how close she got to the young man and how sue cared about him.

"I know," he nodded his head. "We got this."

Charlie caught sight of Maggie behind him, her strong yet weary figure standing out among the others. The sight of her brought a rush of conflicting emotions. She had insisted on coming, despite the dangers. She was resolute, driven by the same need for justice and retribution that fueled them all. But seeing her there, so close to the impending conflict, made Charlie's protective instincts flare.

She found herself beside Glenn in no time, his face etched with worry but his resolve unbroken. She couldn't hold back her concern any longer.

"You asked me to protect her, Glenn," Charlie said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And now you risk her life?"

Glenn turned to her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his inner turmoil. "It's not up to me, Charlie," he replied, a note of sadness in his voice. "You know her. Once Maggie sets her mind to something, there's no stopping her."

Charlie clenched her jaw, struggling to accept the truth in Glenn's words. Maggie was strong, resilient, and fiercely independent. She had every right to fight alongside them, but that didn't make it any easier to watch her step into danger. "I get it, Glenn. But sometimes you need to step up and be a man."

His eyes hardened, and he took a step closer to her, lowering his voice so the others wouldn't hear. "Do you think I don't care? Do you think I don't worry about her every second? This isn't about being a man or not. This is about respecting her."

"So, what?" Charlie glared at him. "You just let her walk into danger because you're too afraid to stand up to her?"

"She's not a child; she's a survivor, just like the rest of us," he answered. "I know you're scared," Glenn's voice softened. "Trust me, we all are."

"But what if anything happens to her..."

"Nothing will," Glenn interrupted, a fierce determination in his eyes. "Because we're going to do everything in our power to protect each other. All of us."

Charlie nodded, feeling the last of her frustration melt away, but not entirely. She knew Glenn was right. They needed to be united, now more than ever.

Their attention was suddenly captured by Rick, who had stepped forward, his face set with grim determination. He raised a hand, signaling for everyone to gather around. The murmur of voices ceased as the group fell silent, eyes fixed on their leader.

"We're gonna take a look around, try to get a feel for how many people are in there." said Rick. "We like how it looks, we go in. A couple hours before dawn. The guards outside'll be tired. Everyone inside'll be sleeping," he explained a one way. "We don't like what we see, we head back, make a new plan," he said. "They don't know who we are. We'll keep Jesus in the shadows. This is how we eat."

As the group began to disperse to their positions, Charlie approached Rick, her mind racing with concerns. She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, looking at the man who was immersed in his thoughts.

"I don't want Maggie here," Charlie said sternly, even though Rick wasn't looking at her.

"She's guarding the perimeter," he answered, still not giving her a glance.

"Are you kidding me?" she scoffed. "She's pregnant."

"It's her choice."

She couldn't believe Rick was so dismissive of her concerns. How could he put Maggie in such a dangerous position? It felt reckless and irresponsible.

First Glenn and then Rick.

Men - Charlie rolled her eyes.

"She's with a child, it's no longer her choice."

Rick finally turned to face Charlie, his eyes meeting hers directly. There was a flicker of something in his gaze - maybe understatement or maybe she annoyed him."I want to stay with her," Charlie insisted, her voice steady even as Rick scrutinized her. "And Andy will be with us."

Rick's face tightened with resolve. "Well, this whole thing's a race to the armory," he said. "We need as many people inside as we can get."

"You have just enough people," Charlie shrugged, pointing her head in the direction of the group. "I made a promise to keep an eye on her."

"Did Carol and Andy make that promise too? I had a very similar talk with her earlier." Rick tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Charlie's heart sank. If Carol was voicing concerns, it meant she wasn't alone in her worries. "Very well. Even Carol is concerned, so that should tell you a lot."

A heavy silence settled between them, the weight of their unspoken words hanging in the air. Rick's expression softened slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. "You don't talk to me, Charlie," he said quietly. "It's been weeks since we've really talked. You said you were sorry for doubting me, and here we are," he sighed, dropping his arms to his sides. "What happened to you? You used to be my biggest ally."

Her thoughts raced. She remembered the early days of their journey, how she had always stood by Rick, trusted his decisions, even when they were difficult. But things had changed. The constant danger, the endless battles, it had all taken a toll.

"This thing? It's not the same as before," she said after a while, her voice tinged with sadness and frustration. "I don't see... I can't find a point in this," she shrugged, struggling to put her feelings into words. "And I don't want to ever make a choice who to save, a baby or its mother."

Her last words hit Rick hard. She could see the pain in his eyes, the conflict. It was the truth, and he knew it. The weight of their decisions, the moral dilemmas they faced every day—it was tearing them apart. Rick took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly.

"I'm staying with Maggie," Charlie said firmly.

Rick looked at her for a long moment, the silence between them thick with unspoken emotions. Finally, he nodded. "Okay," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But Andy goes with us."

The night had settled around them, casting the forest in deep shadows. Charlie, Carol, and Maggie crouched near the Savior's base, their breaths quiet and steady. The cool night air wrapped around them, the sounds of the forest a backdrop to their tense vigil.

Charlie's thoughts drifted to Andy. She had been annoyed by his presence, questioning his readiness and his place in their mission. She agreed on him going here, because she thought he'll be near her. The only reassurance was the thought that Daryl promised to keep an eye on him. He had a way of taking care of people, of bringing out their strengths. If anyone could guide Andy through this, it was him. She hoped that Andy would rise to the occasion, proving her doubts wrong.

Charlie glanced at Carol, whose usual calm demeanor seemed strained. Her eyes were darting around more than usual, and her breathing was just a bit too quick. Charlie's instincts flared; something was wrong.

Her eyes met Charlie's again, and she offered a reassuring nod, even though her heart was still pounding in her chest. Their eyes locked in a silent exchange of concern and determination.

Then, the sharp, piercing sound of an alarm shattered the silence.

Charlie's heart sank, a wave of dread washing over her. Her mind immediately jumped to Daryl, Andy, and Glenn. Were they safe? Had something gone wrong?

She felt a surge of fear and panic, her thoughts racing. The alarm meant the Saviors were alerted, and everything was about to get much more dangerous. She couldn't bear the thought of losing anyone, especially not the people she cared about most.

"They're in trouble," Carol said urgently as she started moving, giving an order to Charlie. "Stay here with Maggie."

"What?" Charlie began to follow Carol, her heart pounding with worry. She heard another pair of footsteps behind her.

"I'm going with you," both Maggie and Charlie said in unison.

"I said stay here!" Carol snapped, frustration evident in her voice.

"No!" Charlie retorted, her determination unwavering.

"Damn it!" Carol cursed under her breath.

"I have to!" Charlie argued, reaching out to pull Carol's arm.

"No, you don't!" Carol insisted. "Both of you, stay here."

"Yes, I do," Maggie interjected, pushing Charlie to the side with unexpected strength.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Carol asked, the question burning in everyone's mind.

Maggie furrowed her eyebrows, defiant. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to be someone else!" Carol's voice was harsh, the weight of their situation pressing down on her.

Before anyone could respond, the alarm blared again, louder and more urgent. The noise was a constant reminder of the danger closing in on them.

"They need our help," Maggie said, her voice resolute.

A low growling noise broke through the alarm. Charlie turned swiftly, her knife already in her hand, and plunged it into the head of a walker that had crept up on them. She wiped the blood off her blade, her heart racing.

"You're staying here," Carol commanded, her voice leaving no room for argument. "With Charlie."

As Carol looked at Maggie, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, she took out her gun. Before she could react, Charlie had already fired, hitting a man but only managing to wound his arm.

"Maggie, don't," Charlie warned, her voice tense, when she saw her walking to the wounded man.

"Let's go!" Carol urged, ready to move.

"Not unless it's done," Maggie said through gritted teeth, her gun trained on the wounded man.

Suddenly, Charlie felt a cold metal barrel press against the back of her head. A click echoed in the air, sending a shiver down her spine. "Stop!" a woman's voice commanded. "Or they are both dead!"

Carol, Charlie, and Maggie froze, their breaths hitching in unison. The woman, her eyes cold and calculating, held her gun firmly against hers and Carol's heads. Charlie's eyes darted to the side, where she saw two other women, each armed and ready to shoot.

"Guns, knives on the ground, right now," the woman with ginger hair ordered, her voice brooking no defiance.

Carol glanced at Charlie, a silent exchange passing between them. Reluctantly, they began to lower their weapons, placing them on the ground slowly. "Do it," Carol whispered, her voice strained but calm. "We need to stay alive."

Charlie nodded, her heart pounding as she followed Carol's lead. Maggie hesitated, her eyes blazing with defiance, but she too began to lower her gun.

"Good," the woman said, a twisted smile on her face. "Now, stand back."

Charlie's mind raced, looking for a way out of this. The alarm continued to wail, its relentless noise making it hard to think clearly. She glanced at Carol, who gave her a barely perceptible nod. They needed a plan, and fast.