#and not the most disturbing thing you've ever heard in your life.

[haarute]

just now, someone broke into my very next door (our buildings are connected) neighbor's place as they were away on a trip. they noticed over security cam livestream footage and contacted everyone. a bunch of cops with rifles and shotguns then showed up right in front of my bedroom window, broke into their house, and took away this singular unarmed woman who had snuck in and was hiding inside of their trailer in the garage.

the sergeant told my mom not to worry because they took several items (like a fire extinguisher) from my neighbor's place and were going to straight up lie about why she was being brought up to the precinct by saying that she was stealing/using said items so they can detain her for longer.

i'm feeling a lot of things right now

[lynnuvo]

୨⎯ Long Gone Princess ⎯୧

Characters: Yan!Thief x (Y/N) reincarnated as Rapunzel A lot of you guys enjoyed the Cinderella version, so why not make a Rapunzel version? Very much considering making this a Yan!Fairytales Series.

Stowed Away

When you first awoke in your tower, you panicked for days. There was literally no way out, no matter how much you clawed at the bricks. It didn't take long to figure out where exactly you were. Who else would paint a mural of herself, seriously long-haired, gazing at floating lanterns?

Meeting Mother Gothel was the most anxiety-inducing thing you had to push through. You pitied the real Rapunzel for falling victim to her sugar-coated, poisonous words. As much as you internally cringed at them, it wouldn't serve you well to raise suspicion. After all, you have nowhere to go.

Whenever Mother Gothel was gone and you finished tidying up the tower, you emptied one of your chests full of female paraphernalia and stuffed some "safety equipment inside." Hopefully, Mother Gothel wouldn't notice a missing pair of scissors. Or a few darts.

Your now abnormally long hair was disturbing, to say the least. It was pretty, but now that you were living her life, you wandered how Rapunzel managed to put up with the hair strands scattered around the house, washing the heap of keratin proteins for hours in just ONE day, and sleep knowing there was at least some hair flowing to the floor. And let's be real: you were not going to spend most of your day braiding it just to remove your work whenever Mother Gothel came back.

Unfortunately, you couldn't afford to cut your hair--not just because it'd give Mother Gothel a heart attack but because it might help you. It did have magical healing powers. The only huge problem was that you were not skilled enough to maneuver your hair like Rapunzel. In addition, if you were to leave the tower, how would you return? Until you found the secret entrance amongst all the brick, you needed a backup plan.

One day, you gathered the courage to ask Mother Gothel for more fabric to sew a beautiful wedding dress, one that was colorful and very long. Of course, you left out the part where you wanted it to be long enough to reach the bottom of the tower (it'd be a lot of work, but what else were you going to do to escape?). She was skeptical about the idea behind the dress, but you reassured her that you just wanted something like those girls in the fairytale books you had in your room. After her lecture about the dangers of the world, she agreed to get you fabric.

My Savior

One morning, while you sowed your dress, you heard the sound of metal jabbing into something growing closer and closer. In a panic, you shut off your sewing machine and tied up as much as your hair as possible. There was no way you could capture Rapunzel's beloved thief the way she did. You vaguely prepared for what to do when he arrived, but you hadn't expected it to be that day!

At last, he fell into the tower and froze at the sight of you. He glanced behind him and turned back around, stepping away from the window with hands up. "Uh. I am so sorry for breaking into your home."

You pointed one of your scissors (used to cut fabric earlier) at him with a glare. "I'll forgive you if you hand me that bag you have."

"Listen, miss, I think we can sort this out without--"

"The bag or I'll throw you back down."

He gulped and reluctantly threw you the bag, begging you to please return it to him afterwards. The shock he had at your nonchalant expression while pulling out the most sparkly crown you've ever seen was laughable. In reality though, you were in awe. You quickly snapped out of it, though, and threw it behind you. You both cringed at the clanging it made as it hit the floor.

"I need you to listen to me," you started, gripping your scissors and your dress. "I need your help."

You didn't hesitate to cut to the chase. You explained that you were kidnapped by a woman claiming to be your mother and trapped in the tower by her. Although it may backfire on you later, you shared that you were reincarnated from another world. He was in disbelief until you told him his full name, his criminal history, the companions he had who would soon betray him, and the small cottage he visited along with many more criminals or outlaws. He challenged that you just did your research, but then you told him what crime he had just committed: stealing the missing princess's crown, which was--by the way--you.

After some back and forth, he agreed to help on the condition that you return the crown. You agreed to return it on the condition that he not only help you escape but also help you live in safety.

Together, you both clawed at the bricks on the wall until the secret backdoor was found. He helped you come up with a way to hide the new backdoor again whenever Mother Gothel returned.

You found a pattern in the earlier months leading up to then on Mother Gothel's pattern of visitation. She comes back every three or four days in early evening. If she didn't return by the time the sun disappeared, she wouldn't be back at all. That day was one of those days she wasn't going back. You suspected she wouldn't return for a while since she had just left the day before. Although hesitant at the idea of a new roommate, you demanded that Yan!Thief spend the night in the same room as you. He balked at what he thought was an implication, but he soon found himself sleeping on the floor (you dropped a blanket for him). How were you sure he wouldn't use the secret backdoor while you slept? You boobietrapped it before bed, making sure he stayed in the room so he wouldn't see under the threat of murder.

Steal His Heart

Your new routine was a scary turn but also surprisingly relieving. Yan!Thief would leave the tower in search of a new home for you (and him too) and would return in the afternoon only if a piece of purple fabric hung outside the window. Otherwise, it wasn't safe to come back.

Although your relationship started off rocky (who's to blame him with how violently you approached him?), you two soon warmed up to each other. He sometimes returned with small goods that you sometimes got a clear answer for how he retrieved. That chocolate he got for you both to try? He pickpocketed it. That ripe fruit that tasted like mildew spring? He dodged all of the questions.

Eventually, you gathered the courage to leave the tower with him. Your activities differed from there. Sometimes, you both ventured a little ways from the tower to discover the terrain and help find a new home. Sometimes, you both would spend the day walking around, learning more about each other and chatting away.

With no other companion, it came as no surprise to Yan!Thief that he developed romantic feelings for you. You didn't want to admit that you did too. At least, not until you both were in a safe place.

At last, Yan!Thief found an abandoned shelter. It was rusty, but it was closer to the kingdom than the tower but sheltered away like the tower. With a pounding heart, you gathered as much as you could from your tower into a backpack that Yan!Thief had brought over and left forever. In the shelter, you cut your hair, rendering it free from its power. Yan!Thief initially didn't want it to happen due to your great abilities, but one look at your determined face told him that you knew better.

The next couple weeks was spent in paranoia, you in fear of Mother Gothel and him in fear of guards. Luckily, you two went as far as making it into the kingdom without getting caught.

One day, you brought up the idea of revealing your identity to the king and queen while fidgeting with your crown. You reassured Yan!Thief that you'd vouch for his safety and freedom for as much as possible. It took a while for him to warm up to that, but you two finally made your way towards the castle.

Everything went surprisingly as planned. The kingdom rejoiced at the return of their princess, Yan!Thief was spared of a prison sentence and was even given a home and job as a prize for bringing you back, and the dead, rotten body of Mother Gothel was found not far from the shelter you and Yan!Thief had found.

Life was a fairytale.

MY Princess

Until it wasn't.

See, although you and Yan!Thief seemed to start opening a romantic chapter, that soon closed. With your newfound title came new responsibilities, friends, and much to his worries, a possible new love interest.

He tried his best to remain just a friend to you, but it was unbelievably hard. He couldn't believe that you were slowly forgetting him, your savior! Why must you abandon your knight in shining armor?!

He did feel guilty for not appreciating his new life more. Any other criminal would probably fight tooth and nail to be in his position, but he just wasn't happy if you weren't there with him.

Once his selfishness began to boil over, he devised a plan he wasn't sure if he was going to regret. He paid a visit to your room in the castle (you had given your dear best friend special permission) and chatted with you a bit. You apologized for being so distant as of late; royal duties had been keeping you at bay. He accepted your apology more readily than he had expected. It was hard not to with your bright smile and the cute way you pushed your hair behind your ears. He asked if you had time to visit the old tower for memories sake, and you happily agreed. The kingdom had yet to find the tower (you insisted to him that you wanted it kept secret in case you needed to run away again), so you simply told your guards you were heading out for a stroll.

Once at the tower, you two ventured inside and reveled at how dramatic your lives had changed. You even reminisced your life before being reincarnated. As the sun fell, you got up and suggested that you both should head back before it gets dark.

"Yan!Thief?" You peered at his gloomy expression. "Is everything okay?"

He nodded. got up, and hugged you. You let out a gasp before embracing him back. When he left go, you caught a tear slipped down his cheek. Your hands shot up to cup his face. "Yan!Thief?! What's wrong? I'm here. Did something happen?"

He sniffled and brushed a hand over your cheek. "I'm so sorry."

You were about to demand an explanation until you caught a glimmer shine from a blade in his other hand.

When you woke, you found your ankle chained to your bed--not your bed in the beautiful castle you were meant to be in but in the tower you had escaped from a year ago.

Yan!Thief came in the room and apologized with tears streaming down his face, exclaiming that you were just too irresistible to give to any other man or even the kingdom. He promised to take care of everything.

No matter how much you screamed, threw items in a fit of rage, or revealed that you only had romantic feelings for him all this time, he wouldn't budge. It was only until he bought a longer chain that he freed you from the bed. Your heart broke when you discovered he had discarded the wedding dress you had worked hard on and abandoned in the tower long ago, and even more so when you saw that he had built a new door in front of the original secret entrance.

You were back to square one, only this time with no way out and betrayed by the one person you truly trusted in this universe.

[togenabi]

things I won't tell you

vinsmoke sanji (opla) x princess!reader

♡—the new royal chef doesn't seem to recognize you without your crown. who's going to tell him? . . . certainly not you.

word count♡— 7.3k (cries)

genre♡— fluff, royal chef x princess au

content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader is a princess, reader wears dresses, reader has siblings (oc's), sanji made me google fancy food, mentions of zeff, sanji gets jealous if you squint, no use of y/n, proofread (but only a little)

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is detached from any canon, its basically just a big chunk of sanji fluff. please enjoy!

You've never really dreamed for yourself. You had always just let life fall into place around you.

The kingdom is prospering, entering a new age of commerce. Artists, craftsmen, and inventors sail seas just to be part of it.

Your sister Chrysanth is a wise queen, as you always knew she would be. She’s fair and just, always knowing what’s best for her people.

On the other hand, your brother August is Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s an excellent swordsman, who has yet to be beaten ever since he took command.

As for you, the youngest of the three, you have no idea what you’re doing.

The most likely outcome would be for you to be married off to settle some political arrangement. Unpleasant as it sounds, you would have agreed to it for the sake of the kingdom.

But the moment you said so, Chrysanth gave you a look unbecoming of a queen and immediately shut it down.

“Look,” She gestured to the view outside. “Does that seem like a kingdom who needs help to you? I work my butt off precisely so that we won’t have to depend on anyone else.”

“Besides,” She adds, “if anyone wants your hand, they should fight to the death for it.”

And so, for now, you work for your sister. Helping manage general affairs and the kingdom’s business agreements—even though she could easily hire someone else.

“I love that you insist on working,” Your brother told you once. “You could have been a socialite, but you’re here with us, serving the people.”

Of course you are. Because even though you didn’t necessarily plan it, you are proud and committed to your work. You’re happy with your own, mundane accomplishments.

Or at least that’s what you try to remember when you glance at the tall pile of documents on your desk. You’ll relish the satisfaction that will come when it’s gone.

The candle beside you burns low, flame becoming dimmer and dimmer as the hour grows late. You should probably replace that. Pulling open your drawer, your eyes scan its contents for a candle.

You’re fresh out of the tall ones that fit in the candleholder, but you have one sculpted like a cinnamon bun—a gift from August a few birthdays ago. It’s not exactly the best for illuminating your work, but something makes you strike a match and light it still.

It smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls, you can’t help but inhale the decadent scent deeply.

The aroma triggers an embarrassing grumble from your stomach. You feel your ears burn despite the fact that no one else is around to have heard it. Perhaps a midnight snack is in order.

Unexpectedly, light seeps through the gap beneath the large wooden double doors to the kitchen. In all your years, you’ve never encountered anyone in the kitchen at two in the morning.

Normally, you wouldn’t want to disturb them. Knowing the chefs, they would likely fuss over you and put whatever they were doing on hold.

But you fear that your stomach will disagree with that, so you decide to knock and enter the kitchen anyway.

There’s only one chef inside—a tall, blond man with his back to you. You don’t think you recognize him. He must be one of the new hires.

When he hears your footsteps on the stone tiles, he turns around.

His expression, at first, is curious. But after a beat, his mouth curves into a charming grin that catches you completely off guard.

“Hello there, miss.” He nods in greeting, eyes alight with a look that no one usually dares when it comes to you.

“I’d be happy to fix up something for you if there’s anything you’re… craving.”

When you expected the chef to fuss over you, this isn’t what you meant.

Your first instinct is to look at his surroundings for alcohol. Perhaps he’s intoxicated and not in his right mind?

But the (sober) chef seems to have mistaken your silence for bashfulness, because he presses you further, “Trust me. I may be new around here, but I know my stuff.”

Unsure how to respond to his blatant (or insolent, your sister would say) behavior, you try to gently decline his offer.

“It’s alright,” You say, still uncertain about him. “I was only going to make a sandwich and be on my way.”

“Nonsense!” He insists. “If you’re hungry at this hour, it means you’ve been busy working too hard.”

He approaches the pantry, retrieving one too many things for a mere sandwich. Your concern grows when he grabs garlic, several leafy vegetables, and a lemon.

“You, my dear,” He points at you with, is that a cucumber? “—deserve a proper treat.”

You sigh, it looks like he doesn’t intend to back down. Maybe you should just let him do what he wants and see if he can back up all the talk. Pulling one of the chairs from beneath the kitchen island, you take a seat as you observe the flirtatious chef.

At least he seems to be enjoying himself. His hands work with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience; and he smiles proudly when he sees you watching.

“I meant what I said, I’m a damn good cook.” He’s begun chopping the vegetables. “My name’s Sanji, by the way.”

The question now is whether or not you properly introduce yourself. It's difficult to deny that you enjoy his attention. The casual and relaxed manner he addresses you with is… a nice kind of different. When else are you going to experience that if you let this go?

Alright. For tonight, you're not a princess. You're someone who stumbled upon a chef—a handsome one, it dawns on you. This is a chance encounter in the palace kitchens. And, you glance over at the dressing and ingredients he prepared, why should you turn down good food?

You decide to only give him your name. It feels strange introducing yourself without your title, but you don't tell him that.

“It makes sense that your name is as captivating as you are.” Sanji's voice is smooth, easygoing as he moves around the kitchen.

Nothing about his demeanor changes. Either he really doesn't know anything about this country's royalty, or he's skillfully controlled his reaction and is hiding that he knows.

There's also a third possibility: that you look so haggard and tired that you simply do not appear royal anymore.

Subconsciously, you look at your typical office clothes… Maybe you should go on that fitting the royal stylist has been pestering you about.

On the topic of style, however, your companion has unusual attire for a chef. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt with a necktie. His black slacks match the suit jacket draped over one of the chairs.

Your attention is diverted when Sanji begins rolling up his sleeves. He juices the lemon he had sliced in half, arms flexing as he twists the fruit.

Clearing your throat, you ask him a question to distract yourself. “What are you making?”

He smiles as if he’s glad you asked. “A dish that suits a beauty like you, of course.”

Several minutes later, he presents you with a sandwich. The slices of bread are whole wheat; the layers of ingredients between them are all in varying shades of green.

“A green goddess sandwich, made with care for the goddess in front of me.” Sanji pushes the plate towards you. 

It's easy to stay composed despite the flattery because your hunger makes you focus on the food. “It really does look excellent.” You compliment earnestly.

He gestures to the plate before placing his hands in his pockets. “Tastes excellent too, try it.” Shaking your head at how confident he’s being, you pick up the sandwich.

It might just be the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life. The flavors are fresh, and you catch the hints of lemon blending with the dressing. The bread is soft, contrasting with the crunch of the cucumbers and sprouts.

You're completely surprised, and it must be obvious based on how Sanji reacts. He lets out an adorable, pleased laugh that makes you want to hear it again.

“I knew you’d like it, ma chèrie.” Sanji reaches a hand towards your face. Your heart just about stops when he brushes his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth. His eyes look so intense, like you'll drown in them if you stare too much. 

It feels as if your face could burst into flames at any second, so you turn away to hide your flush.

As Sanji grabs you a glass of water, you ask him if he’s eaten. “I did, but it’s nice that you’re worried about me.” He answers. You almost choke on your drink.

Once you've finished your meal, you stand then grab your empty plate and glass. But Sanji mirrors you, blocking the way to the sink. Why must a chef have such broad shoulders?

He shakes his head, trying to get the dishes from you. “Can’t let you do that, love.”

“Why not?” You frown, pulling your arms back so he doesn’t reach them.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be working any more—”

“But you’re allowed to?” You look up at him defiantly.

Sanji stares at you. You stare back. There's a few seconds of silence before you sprint the other way, running around the kitchen island to get to a different sink.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sanji yells after you.

You’re almost there, but Sanji catches up to you easily. Before you know it, he’s blocking the way again and you curse, remembering his long legs.

“Sanji, let me do the dishes.” You plead, but he’s as stubborn as it gets.

“The knives I used need to be washed anyway, and I’m not about to let your pretty hands do that.” Sanji winks, and you give up. He pries the dishes from your hands.

Seeing your shoulders slump disappointedly, he offers you a compromise. “If you really want, you could throw the rubbish in the bin and wipe down the counters.” Okay, you can do that.

“Are you sure this is the only way I can repay you?” You ask, grabbing a washcloth to begin cleaning up.

“That’s plenty of help, my dear.” Sanji answers.

But after a moment, he seems to have gotten an idea. Your brows raise in curiosity as you question him, “What?”

“...I was just wondering,” He begins, looking at you with that flirtatious glint in his eye. “Since we had such a wonderful time tonight, would you be willing to join me again?”

“That depends,” You press your lips together to suppress the smile blooming on your lips. “Will you cook for me again?”

Sanji laughs, throwing his head back. “Darling, that’s a given.”

He gazes at you while he dries his hands. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, like he already knows your answer. He probably does. He’s probably right.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Even though you got back to your chambers at an ungodly hour in the morning, you woke up feeling the most refreshed you’ve ever been. There’s a spring in your step as you get ready for the day, and you pick clothes that are slightly more dressy than your usual attire. Sanji shouldn’t be able to notice that you dressed up for him, right?

But your sister does. 

Seated at the head of the table, Chrysanth stops eating to analyze your clothes the instant you show up to the dining hall for breakfast.

You could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Avoiding her gaze, you bow to greet her before taking your seat, “Good morning.”

The queen only smiles at you knowingly, eyes still flickering over you with enraptured excitement. Very much unlike a queen, however, she kicks your shin underneath the table.

“Ow!” You yelp.

“So…” She lets the syllable drag on. “Who’s the guy?”

You focus on piling food onto your plate, choosing to ignore her. “What guy?”

“Your guy.” She says, giddy. “Is he your guy yet?”

“Hm?” Is your only response. Breakfast looks lovely. Should you ask for coffee or tea today?

Chrysanth kicks you again.

“Hey!” You rub the skin to dull the pain. “Stop that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” She persists, waving a hand to gesture at your clothes. “You only wear that skirt when you want to impress someone.”

Mentally cursing her for knowing you too well, you continue to act nonchalant.

“Really, it’s nothing.” You try to clarify. “I just thought that it would be a nice change.”

She doesn't believe it. Not one bit of it. Thankfully though, she drops the topic. Your shoulders relax as the discussion switches to work-related ones. She’s telling you about her plans to approve a restaurant in the museum when your brother joins you for breakfast.

Once he’s seated, August takes one look at you before tilting his head. “Who’s the guy?”

Chrysanth looks far too smug and triumphant than you’d like. You bury your face in your hands. Would Sanji also tease you if he knew?

The rest of the day is uneventful, the only change to your typical work day being that you avoid your siblings like the plague. You have lunch brought to your office and skip on dinner.

Sanji had already started cooking by the time you got to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind,” He says. Of course you don’t, whatever it is smells amazing. “I thought I’d start early so you wouldn’t have to wait too long.”

“Thank you for going through the trouble.” You say, glancing at the ingredients he had laid out: there are crushed tomatoes on the counter. Pasta simmers in a pot on the stove. You recognize the tubed shapes with ridges surrounding them.

“Rigatoni?” You ask, turning to the chef.

Sanji nods, “With a simple, creamy tomato sauce. Nothing too extravagant, but still specially made for you.” 

He puts the pasta into two bowls, grating parmesan cheese on top. Your mouth waters.

“Here you are, darling.” It pleases you more than you thought it would when Sanji sits across from you to eat as well.

There’s something homey and yet luscious about the taste. He really outdid himself. “It’s delicious, Sanji.”

“I live to please.” Sanji says before standing to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of red. “Zweigelt.” He says as he pours for you both. “Juicy and fresh, with just the right amount of acidity.”

You almost swoon at the rasp in his voice. You never realized someone could be so attractive when talking about wine.

As he clinks his glass with yours, you think to yourself that this might be your favorite dish from him. However, true to his word, he surpasses your expectations every time.

After a few weeks, on your sixth (or is it seventh?) time meeting Sanji past midnight, you've reached the point where you're able to open up to each other beyond the pleasantries that come with the food.

He tells you about his dream of traveling the seas in search for the best ingredients the world has to offer. You admit how you sometimes feel like life is just taking you along with the current—that you’ve never had a burning, passionate dream to aspire to.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Sanji hums contemplatively. “There aren’t any deadlines when it comes to finding dreams.”

“I do worry that you’re working yourself to the bone, though.” He adds, and for once, his smile looks different somehow. It’s a fond, gentle smile that’s sweeter than the macarons he made for you.

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of water.

“While I'm flattered you enjoy my food so well, do you eat properly? Shouldn't the palace be treating you better?” This time, you actually choke on your drink.

Could it get more embarrassing than this? Your ears burn as you cough, trying to clear your throat and settle your heart.

“Breathe, love." Sanji, ever the gentleman, is next to you in a flash of a second. He pats your back gently and supportively. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“It's alright—and, I do eat,” Your voice comes out raspy. “It's just that I don't usually have an appetite for dinner.”

“But that leaves you hungry for a midnight snack?” Sanji asks, a knowing expression on his face as he refills your glass.

“Exactly.” You smile. Thankfully, your throat has calmed down. Picking up a vanilla-flavored macaron, you savor the taste that melts sweetly on your tongue. Returning to his chair across from you, Sanji watches you eat happily. 

“I take pride in my desserts, but that chocolatier in Belltower street… The sweets are just—out of this world, I tell you.” He looks so excited as he talks, eyes aglow and gestures animated. “The chocolates are handmade and everything. I'm sure you've heard of it?”

“Um…” Hesitating, you certainly remember issuing a business permit for a chocolatier; but you can’t say you’ve gone there yourself.

Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Surely you’re pulling my leg. You haven’t been?”

“...”

He observes you quietly, like he's considering what to do next. There have been instances when Sanji stays quiet, doesn't eat, and only watches you chew. The times where he insists that he's content with seeing you eating well. Those were awkward at first, but you learned that was just part of spending time with him. Your reaction was a reward on its own.

But this isn't like that. Something feels oddly different in the way he seems to be gathering his composure. The silence almost worries you, but thankfully he breaks it first.

“You’ve saved me the trouble of thinking of a place to take you to.” Laughing, Sanji practically glows in elation. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You had a peculiar sense that you would’ve loved going anywhere, as long as you were with him. 

Feeling bold, you suggest, “I’m free this Saturday if that’s good for you?”

He gives you that soft, enamoured look again. Something makes you hold your breath, your fingers tingle and the entire rest of the world slows down. You’re almost certain you’re giving him the same look.

“Even if I wasn’t, love, I would have gone to you anyway.”

The next day, a Thursday, your brother unexpectedly knocks on your office door.

“Hey,” You smile. “Is something wrong?” 

It’s rare for August to look for you in the middle of the day. If either of you need to speak, it’s usually you who heads into the training grounds to talk to him. The other way around occurring is curious.

“I wanted to invite you to watch the knights train this Saturday.” He says coolly. “It would boost their morale if you spoke a few words.”

The commander goes on to speak, not catching that you’ve short circuited somewhat, trying to rack your brain for a valid excuse to decline him.

“And maybe, you could pick out a personal knight like I’ve been telling you.” August prompts. “You really should—”

When he pauses, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously, you suddenly recall why you stopped trying to hide anything from him. 

“You already have plans.” He says, face carefully blank.

“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood. But wait, his eyes are widening. Why is he making that face? Why is he looking at you like he just figured out—

“You have a date.” Darn it all.

August is bewildered, not knowing what to do with the information he put together. He awkwardly brushes his fingers through his hair.

“...Is he a good guy, at least?” He settles with, asking carefully in that concerned way he does when he looks out for you.

Biting your lip, you nod. “He seems to be, so far.”

“Okay.” August responds. “Does Chrysanth know?”

“It’s nothing serious.” Yet. Yet? Do you want it to be? “You’re the first I’ve told.”

A worrying thought suddenly pops in your mind. Your turn to him, distressed. “Please don’t tell her yet, August.”

“Why?” His frown deepens, like he’s about to ask more questions. Unfortunately for him, you decide you’ve had enough talking about Sanji to your brother for today.

“Aren’t you busy?” You grab his arm, guiding him out of your office. “Don’t you have training to get to?”

“I do, but—why can't Chrysanth know?” You open the door for him and try to push him out, but August plants his feet; still trying to figure you out. He doesn’t budge an inch.

But then he makes that face again. That annoying ‘aha!’ face.

“You really need to go, good luck with training! Tell the knights I said hi—” You manage to shove him out with all your strength, but at the last second before you close the door, August turns around again.

“He’s a commoner, isn’t he?” You slam the door at his face. 

It doesn't matter. Sanji's status will never matter to you. Not when he's holding your hand so sweetly while he guides you through the winding streets of the city. You recognize some shops by name, knowing who owns what and when they established their business. But Sanji knows these streets, and he's more than happy to show you.

“Ah, one moment, my dear.” Sanji pulls you towards a quaint little cart overflowing with flowers. He flicks a coin to the vendor, eyes scanning all the vibrant colors and bursting petals. 

Somehow, without you needing to tell him, he picks one in your favorite color. You're starting to feel like that's just part of being with Sanji—that he knows what you want, and knows what you need before you do.

The flower is soon tucked into your hair, behind your ear. His fingers linger on the side of your face—and normally, you'd break eye contact and shy away. Maybe let out a halfhearted excuse that you should continue on your way. But you don't.

You smile back at him, not bothering to hide the genuine happiness you feel. And when Sanji pulls back, you're already holding out your hand before he reaches for it. There’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel like you're walking on air when he tugs you along again.

As planned, Sanji takes you to the chocolatier he told you about. The building is small, tucked between larger shops in the middle of a busy street, but there’s no doubting the quality of their confections.

The elderly chef behind the counter greets Sanji like a grandson she hasn’t seen in forever. She ushers him in, enthusiastically pointing to this and that, saying she moved some furniture around as he suggested.

“It looks perfect, grand-mère.” Sanji smiles, taking in the beautiful glass display. Chocolates of every flavor cover the shelves from end to end.

Grand-mère’s eyes light up when she sees you. She casts an approving look at Sanji, “I like this one. She might even be too good for you.”

“That’s because she is.” Sanji laughs, and you pretend to browse the menu while they talk.

“No need for that, ma chèrie.” The menu is plucked from your hands. Sanji sets it aside, pointing instead to where grand-mère is behind the counter. She's wrapping up a box of chocolates that she hands to you.

“No need to pay, dear.” She smiles, patting your hand. “If he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

Sanji whisks you away through the streets again. You've never been this far into the city before. Looking back at the path you've taken and not recognizing any of it, you know you’d be absolutely lost without Sanji by your side.

“Almost there.” He tells you, pointing to a cobbled path that inclines upwards. 

What meets you at the top of the path is a small clearing. A stunning tree with blossoms on its branches stands at the center. Flowers and petals flutter away and fall onto the iron bench beneath it.

“Sanji, this is lovely...” You trail off, letting go of his hand to catch a flower into your palms. The flower twirls delicately between your fingers before you turn back to Sanji, tucking the blossom into the pocket of his suit.

Sanji takes your hand before you can pull away, bending down to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Not nearly as lovely as you.”

The two of you spent hours under that tree, sharing chocolates and stories—feeling like this is how things are supposed to be. Not necessarily the flowers, or the chocolates, or even the sun setting beautifully in so many warm colors.

Just Sanji. With you, next to you. 

All at once, it sinks in that he could be the dream you've been waiting for. But you don't tell him that.

Being enlightened on your feelings for Sanji becomes a second thought, however, when you’re swamped with work the following week.

“Don’t these people ever get tired?” Chrysanth groans, leaning back on her chair. “Why is planning a festival so hard?”

You approach her desk and place another stack of documents onto it. The numerous piles are getting concerning.

She scowls at the papers, then scowls at you. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of course I do.” You tap a stack of documents to her left. “The guest list for the ball needs to be approved by tonight so we can send invitations out.” She groans again, but picks up the list anyway.

You’re unable to see Sanji as often as you’d like, but you both promised to meet once a week. Even if it’s only for a few short heartbeats together.

You dearly miss him. You think about him as you hand Chrysanth menu plans for the ball. If he saw it, he’d say that he could come up with something better.

She glances at the menu, studying it. Or at least, that’s what you thought she was doing—until her next words proved you wrong.

“So, how are you and that chef doing?”

Your heart isn’t in your chest anymore. It sank down, deep into the depths of the earth. It also must have taken all the air in the room along with it. How did she—

“August?” You blurt out.

Chrysanth shakes her head, “Zeff.” Oh no. Sanji’s boss knows? Does Sanji know that you’re—

“According to Zeff,” She proceeds, cutting off your thoughts. “One of his subordinates has been cooking a lot of personal meals over the last few weeks.”

“I can explain—” But your sister holds up a hand. Your mouth snaps shut.

She calls your name, and then you realize how serious her tone is. “Are you familiar with the kitchen’s rules when it comes to using ingredients and supplies for personal use?”

“...I’m afraid I'm not.” You didn’t know the kitchen had any such rules… but surely Sanji does. Your voice stutters, “I, did—is he in trouble?”

“He isn’t.” She answers, though her expression is still grave. “But I think that you should be aware of how much he’s doing for you.”

Chrysanth opens a drawer to retrieve a list of kitchen rules. Reading it over, everything is standard and straight to the point. You find the answer to your confusion towards the end, a small, nondescript bullet that reads:

All staff must reimburse the cost of all ingredients used for any reason outside of official duties.

“He must know who I am, then.” You say, feeling relieved that he didn’t break some sort of impossible rule. “He wouldn’t have done so much for me if he didn’t.”

Your sister purses her lips, letting the silence linger for a second before responding, “He doesn’t know, love.” She hands you another document. “He’s been paying back every cent out of pocket.”

Tracing over the timestamps and the different ingredients listed, you stare at an outline of your time with Sanji. It’s nice to reminisce, but you can’t help but wince whenever you spot something particularly pricey. What on earth are you to do with this man?

“Zeff recognized your name when he asked Sanji who he was cooking for.” Chrysanth explains. “He didn’t tell him, but he came to me and requested for Sanji to be repaid.”

“Since anything served to me counts as official duties of a royal chef.” You piece together. 

“Exactly.” Chrysanth nods. “However, doing that would expose your title to him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you about this first… You should tell him.”

“I know.” Letting out a deep sigh, you agree. Sanji deserves to know more than anything. Nevertheless, the thought of him changing how he treats you—or worse, leaving—because of your status, frightens you to your core. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” You say, but your sister’s expression slowly changes. What did she plan this time?

“Or maybe, you could put the kitchen dates on pause and tell him in a few weeks.” Surprisingly, she hands you an invitation to the ball.

“I can’t bring Sanji as my date.” No matter how much you wish you could.

“Are you sure about that?” Chrysanth is unable to contain her grin. “Open it!”

‘…you are cordially invited to the spring masquerade ball.’

You gasp, “You turned it into a masquerade?”

“Yes, I did. You won’t believe how much convincing it took for the ministers to agree.” She rolls her eyes, but then her smile returns. “Don’t waste my hard work and have fun with your man, littlest sister.”

You laugh, not expecting this outcome after all that. “I love you, even if you made me go through so much emotional turmoil for fun.” She cackles.

“Of course I had to make you sweat after what you put me through.” Chrysanth scoffs, “I can’t believe I had to hear about your love life from Zeff, of all people.”

“Ah,” She says, remembering something. “Speaking of, why’d you guess August first earlier?”

“...”

“...Did you tell him before me?” She gasps. “How could you! Give that invite back!”

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” You admit shyly. “He’s a commoner.”

“If he treats you well—which, he obviously does—I could care less about all that.” Chrysanth reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Only those stuck up ministers will react negatively, I’m sure. We can deal with them easily enough.”

When she lets you go, she abruptly adds, “He better be cute though.”

That sends you laughing again. “Oh, Chrysanth, he’s the cutest!”

He certainly is. Especially when he sees you and grins, opening his arms wide in expectation. You fall into his embrace when you’re near enough.

Sanji takes your hand and places it on his arm, leading you away from the kitchens.

“Some of the others are still in there planning for the ball.” He explains. “It seems preparations are keeping us both busy.”

Sanji takes you to the greenhouse, which you’ve never seen at night before. Various patches of vegetables and shrubs line the space. There are trees and flowers towards the back too. It feels like a secret hideout, being here with Sanji. 

“I miss spending more time with you, love.” He whispers.

“Me too.” Your heart melts thinking about how much he gave for you. You wish you had the courage to tell him the truth now, while he’s looking at you like you put up the stars in the sky, but you can’t. You’re not ready yet.

Reaching your hands up, you caress his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. He places his hands over yours, keeping them there. 

Sanji closes his eyes to savor the moment, and you let him. You two stay like that, your hands becoming enveloped in so much of Sanji you feel like you could recognize him with your eyes closed, with a single touch.

There’s a certain familiarity to him at this point. You would probably have some difficulty adjusting back to life without him in it. He’s so familiar that you could probably draw him. He makes you want to try.

“...I was just wondering,” You say with a knowing glint in your eye. Does he remember those words when he said them to you that first night? “We’ve been working hard for this ball, wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it together?”

You give him the invitation, and he throws his head back laughing. You send him a confused look, but it all becomes clear when he pulls out an identical invitation from his jacket.

“Ah, how brilliant you are, mamour.” Sanji embraces you again, and you bask in how perfect it feels to tuck your head into the curve of his neck.

“It will be easy to find you even with a mask.” You murmur into his skin. He shivers. “You’re so goddamn tall it’s not fair.”

“I’m not too worried about you finding you, either.” Sanji begins to sway slowly with you still in his arms. It makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t wait to dance with him.

“Are you confident you’ll find me first, then?” You ask, adjusting your hold around his middle to snuggle in better.

“I’m not sure about being first,” He ponders. “But I’ll be sure it’s you when I find you.”

The greenhouse became your new meeting place while the palace was buzzing to prepare for the ball. You could only meet for a few minutes, but you treasured the time you shared just the same. 

Once, Sanji tried to feed you one of the expensive fruits growing there, but you declined, making up an excuse that you were allergic. He had looked at you strangely, but didn’t press you further.

You couldn’t find the time to see Sanji the week of the ball at all. Your time was spent welcoming foreign dignitaries, discussing business and trade. You and your sister had a marvelous time shutting down a marriage proposal from some duke from the north.

It amazes you how much you’ve changed since meeting Sanji. Had the duke asked before you met him, you probably would have considered it seriously. Whereas now, your standard is far too high. The man you choose must be able to get to your heart by cooking you the best food in the kingdom and all the seas. 

You’re glowing by the time you finish getting ready for the masquerade. The dress you chose is in your favorite color, with the skirt twirling dreamily when you turn. 

Chrysanth permitted you to enter the ballroom a few minutes late to avoid a royal entrance. You use the time to compose what you want to say to Sanji when you tell him the truth.

‘I’m a princess, and I think I might love you’, is that a lot to say? You sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress.

The clock on the wall chimes. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ball officially started. You put on your mask, tying the ribbon behind your head to secure it.

After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head to the ballroom—looking much more collected than you actually feel.

Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged to Sanji that you would find him easily, because you don’t.

You were mistaken when you thought all you’d had to do was look for a tall, blond man with a blue mask. (Sanji’s mask is surely going to be blue. He wouldn’t consider any other color. You bet your foot on it.) It’s unnerving how many people fit that description tonight.

You even find your brother before you find Sanji. August is dressed in surprisingly simple, all black attire. He looks more like a gentleman than a commander, lacking all those sparkly medals he’s usually required to wear at events.

“Where’s your date?” August asks, ducking his head slightly so that you can hear him over the crowd. “Chrysanth bragged about setting you two up.”

“I haven’t found him yet.” You answer dispiritedly. “I thought it would be easy.” 

August looks around, and you know that if he knew what Sanji looked like, he would be able to track him down in a flash. You’re about to ask what you should do when August suddenly bows, extending a hand to you.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” He asks in a fake pretentious accent that instantly makes you laugh.

It would be nice to say yes, but you desperately want Sanji to be your first dance. August would understand. 

But you aren’t able to decline, someone else beats you to it.

“I’m afraid her first dance is spoken for.” Sanji’s voice reaches your ears and suddenly the room is brighter than it was.

You almost gasp, elated that he found you. Were it not for that frown on his face, you would have voiced out your joy.

August and Sanji stare each other down. Neither of them say anything, but it’s clear that their first impressions of each other aren’t the most pleasant. Not liking the hostility you’re sensing is building, you tug at Sanji’s hand. 

Your brother’s eyes soften at that, and he bows again, this time to say goodbye. “I’ll see you later then.”

You watch August go, and Sanji grumbles something you don’t catch under his breath. You'll have to properly introduce them at some point, but worrying about their relationship can wait. You really must cheer up this grump who thought he was going to miss your first dance.

“Dance with me, stranger?” Intertwining your fingers together, you smile and take in how handsome he looks. His suit is still black, but there are several accents in dark blue—the same color as his mask.

The deep navy color makes his eyes look almost crystalline, and you recognize why you love him so immensely when he smiles.

“I would be honored.”

Sanji is more graceful than you expected. His movements are controlled and precise, never moving too fast and always making sure you’re falling into step beside him.

He’s proven, once again, that he can surpass your every expectation. Sanji spins you around, catching you by your waist and grinning before sweeping you off your feet again.

By the end of it, you’re left breathless due to far too many reasons, and they all involve him.

You had tried bringing Sanji to a romantic spot; maybe a balcony, or somewhere by a fountain in the gardens—but it seems that a lot of other people had the same idea.

Everywhere was crowded, but you suppose where you ended up is romantic in its own way. With the sky being cloudless tonight, you could see every star twinkling away through the greenhouse’s glass roof. 

Let the stars bear witness to you pouring out your heart to this man.

“Sanji…” You start, mentally preparing yourself.

“Yes, ma chèrie?” Sanji tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, you have his complete attention.

“There are things I must tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, not brave enough to look him in the eye yet; though you grip his hands tightly in yours.

Sanji waits. He doesn’t complain that you might be holding onto him too tightly, or nag at you for taking too long to put your words together.

When you finally look up to meet his eyes, you find the strength to breathe it out, “...I’m a princess.”

There’s this moment again, when you hold your breath and wait for his reaction; like when you first told him your name. Suddenly, it feels like you’re in the kitchen eating sandwiches with him again.

And, just as it did back then, his reaction surprises you.

His expression barely changes, the only difference being the barely-there furrow of his brows in concern. 

“I know, love.” He says.

“What?!” You drop his hands in shock. “Since when?”

Sanji blinks. “Since the moment we met.”

“But, I—why did you pay everything back? Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

His eyes widen, “Ah, is that why you wouldn’t eat anything from me these past few weeks? I knew you couldn’t be allergic to pineberries.” 

“Sanji, answer the question.” You pout, and he rubs your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

It’s Sanji’s turn to compose himself, you notice. He looks like he wants for your time together to stay lighthearted, when the thoughts in his mind are far from it.

“You didn’t want to talk about your duties, so I never asked.” Sanji shrugs, but you can see him getting nervous. 

“As for reimbursing the ingredients, I suppose I was worried that… you wouldn’t think of our time together dearly if I was just another chef on your staff.” 

Your heart shudders when he lets out a shaky breath. Oh Sanji.

“But that’s the truth isn’t it? I am, and yet I—” He pauses, eyes searching yours desperately. “If I didn’t pay for it, I would be admitting that a chef was all I’d ever be to you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “I don’t regret it. I would make the same choice if I had to.” Through the mask, you can see his resolve, but his hands shake as he holds you.

“I didn’t expect to feel this strongly about you.” Sanji continues, “You’re just so lovely, making me feel like I could take on the world for you.”

With your hands quivering the slightest bit, you pull at the ribbon behind your head. Your mask clatters to the floor. Raising your hands towards him, you push his mask up until it’s off, revealing the face of the man who has completely enamoured you; body and soul and all.

You think back to how the colors lit him up beautifully, that one sunset you shared under that blossoming tree. And now, he’s still just as beautiful, in this greenhouse under the moon and the stars. 

You love him all the same as you did then and every moment before. With the weight from keeping secrets gone from your chest, you finally let yourself admit it out loud.

“I love you, Sanji.” You confess. “I’ll go with you, if you’ll take on the world.” You try to say it calmly, but tears build up in your eyes. “You mean so much to me. You’re my dream.”

Sanji inches you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head. “I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine.”

You quip back at him while wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Sanji leans in the same moment you do, lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sends sparks running through every inch of your being. He pulls you impossibly tighter against him, strong hands caressing your back and holding firm at your waist. Your fingers rake through his hair, touching him to make sure he’s real. He’s here. He loves you. He knew. He always knew.

That night, you realized that your favorite taste from Sanji is his lips on yours. But, once again, he won’t hear you tell him that.

…

Sanji first saw you when a ceremony was held to welcome the new palace staff.

Everyone’s attention had been on your sister, the queen. Understandably so, but his eyes always strayed back to you. You looked gorgeous, wearing a stunning dress perfect for a princess as yourself. A cape draped tastefully down your back. And your crown sparkled brightly under the sun; but try as it might, it couldn’t be as dazzling as you.

Sanji was drawn to you instantly, and he thought he would go on with his life never understanding why.

That is, until you walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwich.

It would have been impossible for him to not recognize you. Regular office clothes or not, something was different in the way you carried yourself. It was difficult to miss.

Other people would have thought you appeared mundane. And yet, Sanji found you the most beautiful then.

Because you let yourself smile more when you don't wear your crown. 

But he won’t tell you that.

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @ay0nha @watercolorskyy @holymusicalmothman @appalost

author's note (yes, again)♡— sooo, what do we think about sworn knight!zoro x princess!reader ? 👀

[hiragikiss]

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆！

₊˚ෆ── tags : fluff, slight hurt/comfort, married life, husband & wife, fiancé & fiancee, mentions of kaiser's past (spoiler ig?), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of nudity(no smut), pro athlete!au

₊˚ෆ── including : fiancé!michael kaiser, husband!mikage reo (ft. wife/fiancee! reader)

₊˚ෆ── sum. : hey, where's your ring? why is it off your finger?(should i do part 2. . . ? )

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

when it comes to choosing partner, a person that he wishes to spend the rest of his life with, michael kaiser is very careful about it. he has witnessed the darkness behind a failed marriage for so long and decided to never make a mistake in his own, as to not bear the consequences of poor decision. thus, kaiser has always been so full of love and patience when it comes to you. he has always been as gentle as possible whenever he speaks or touches you.

but, everyone has a limit and seems to react negatively to it in the most non suitable moment ever. you knew he might have been so upset and emotionally disturbed with all of the pent up stress, building up from the pressure of the media, his team and more. however, it does not act as an excuse for him to let it all out on you. that night, he was obviously irritated to the point of snapping at you.

he laid on the sofa, sighing heavily as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm himself down from the sudden bubbling anger rushing through his veins at this very moment. he had just return from an interview regarding to his career updates and happened to be rudely bombarded by nosy paparazzis, causing his phone charm to be lost in that moment. the crowd was too much, he can't reach nor search for the charm, not when the guards were shoving him into the van with protective manner. to the others, it might have been a cheap phone charm that he could purchase any time yet to michael kaiser, it holds so much memories, it meant a lot to him. and you.

you heard your fiancé while you were cleaning up the kitchen. excited to see him, you toss your apron onto the marble kitchen island, making your way towards him. perhaps you were too excited to see him that you didn't notice the still wet floor that you mopped minutes ago, ending with you falling onto the floor with a loud thud, sound of picture frame crashing could be heard as you tried to hold onto a surface to balance yourself but grabbed the wrong thing instead. the loud noise startled kaiser, his anger is pumping rapidly in his veins again, rising up from the sofa and make his way toward the noise.

"love— "

"why can't you be quiet for once? you always had to do something to get on my nerve, don't you?"

your eyebrows furrowed upon his taunting words that are hinted with anger. you knew that he's overstimulated by frustration but it still stir the annoyance in you. who is he to snap at you just because he is feeling negatively?

"wow, my bad i guess. didn't know it'd be a crime to be excited to see my fiancé."

kaiser frowned at your words.

"i don't like your tone."

"right, says the one who started being such a bitch."

"watch your mouth— "

"watch yours first, michael kaiser. look, i don't know what had happen during your interview but can you not take it out on me? i'm not a tool for you to release your stress on. you know what? go cool yourself off, until then we'll talk."

you ignored him as he stood there silently. you fetch your cleaning tools and carefully deal with the broken pieces, placing the picture back on its place while gathering the ruined pieces of broken picture frame into the dust pan. michael only watch your movements, not even a word spoken. he knew you're right and listened to your words as he remove himself from the spot, heading out for a walk.

kaiser spent quite a long moment as he sit by the lazy chair perched up in the garden where you've planted various flowers. the warm white light shining onto each petals and leaves of the flowers, making it appearing more romantic to look at. kaiser's fingers fiddle with his engagement ring hugging his ring finger as he zone out. his mind is clouded with hazy thoughts that are rapidly messing up his mind at this moment, be it from his past or present. he rethink of his behaviour toward you moments ago and sighed heavily. such violent behaviour his, it almost resemble to his abusive male parent back in his childhood.

growing up in violent atmosphere, pain is all he ever learn about. he yearn for love ; to love and to be loved. he spent his childhood imagining what a love would feel like ; is it true that motherly love feels like heaven? is it true that fatherly love feels like you're in the safest universe ever? they said, parents are the hero of every children, yet, why does his abused him and neglected him?

was it because his parent's love were meant to be painful as you yearn more for it? was it because love was never real? or worse, was it because he is just an unlovable child? if love truly exist, why does he need to suffer in order to get a taste of it? they said love is sweet, yet why was it bitter to him? they said love is warm, yet why was he lying on the cold floor as warm fist pounding his fragile body? they said love is soft, yet why was it full of thorns as he held it in his palms?

that was what he was taught about love from the unhealthy surroundings he was locked in. when he met you, he discover what true love is like. he learned that love is when you let out quirky laughs that tingle his ears yet warms up his chest as he laughs along with you ; he learned that love is when you learn about soccer trick online to impress him just for you to clumsily trip, telling him that you'd love to learn more of his passion ; he learned that love is when you hold him tightly as his vulnerable side was exposed when he had failed his own expectation, validating his emotions and never resort to violence to make him quit from feeling low. love with you is what he has always read about on the fairytales storybook that he secretly kept in his room when he was a kid.

you came to him and show him that love isn't always a hard gain yet he hurt you with his action. the thought of you walking away from him suffocate him. he knew he is only imagining about it yet to not see your smile, to not hear your laughter, to not smell your heavenly fragance, to not touches your skin and to not share your warmth is something he could never want to lose.

"god, i fucked up." he cussed under his breathe as he runs into the house, looking for you.

he entered the shared bedroom, heart drop at the sight of your engagment ring placed upon your vanity table. you're not in the room, which adds up to his overthinking. when he heard the soft patterings of shower waters hitting the floor, that's when he knew you're in there. it confirmed his guess when he heard soft sniffles coming from there as he leaned his ear against the door. he was quick to undo his garments and grab your ring, entering the bathroom as quietly as possible.

"darling?"

his heart soften yet saddened at the sight of your crying nude form, standing under the shower head as you try your best to not let out too much sniffles. thank god you're still with him. he makes his way toward you, engulfing you into his chest, holding onto you as his lips raining kisses unto your wet skin.

"please forgive me, my love. i'm sorry for hurting you." he apologised, rubbing your back softly to comfort you.

"must've hurt your ego to apologise to me, huh? serve you right." you countered his words with a hint of sadness in it.

"it hurts even more if i lose you, love. i never want to lose you."

he whispered, lowering his lips to capture yours, apologising to you silently. you closed your eyes, savoring his kiss, letting his lips stiches apology unto yours, a promise to never hurt you again. he parted his lips from you, eyes looking into yours as his palm make its way to caress your cheeks. his hands then moves itself to grab yours, kissing each knuckles before he slides your ring back to its place. he sealed it with another kiss on the ring.

"please, don't leave me, love."

"i won't, darling. i'm here, forever and always."

⊹ ִֶָ𓏲࣪𖹭 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐎

mikage reo, a man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth along with a face blessed by the heaven. he has always knew that his life is well promising and had nothing to worry about. he has always been so generous of his money, be it to use on himself or use it on his friends. just as when he was with his toys when he was a toddler, always sharing it with his play dates or childhood friends. when he reached the age of entering teenager life, he is still so kind when it comes to money matters until it was when he met his friend, nagi seishiro. for once in his life, he dislike sharing, nagi is his friend and nobody could have him.

that goes on until the day he met you. when it comes to you, not even his beloved close friend could have a touch. for the very first time in his life, he is not kind with nagi when it comes to you. nagi wants to play games with you because he heard you're good at it? no need, reo is hiring a famour gamer to play with nagi. nagi would like to hear about your plant pet? no need, reo is buying him a whole nursery of cactus that varies from different species of cactus. nagi was suspicious of reo but he couldn't complaint because at least he is getting something better to ease his boredom.

reo even make it obvious to the other girls that he is yours the moment both of you made it official. reo is well known for using aesthetic hard covers for his phone but when he started dating you, he changed it to clear case, polaroid of you that's his favourite will be placed in it, displaying to others and showing off his lovely lover.

what about you? how do they know that you are mikage reo's lover? it's easy, it's those luxury branded items that you're wearing. he always make sure that most of it are custom made and limited item. it may cause him to spend a little bit extra but hey, if it's you, he'll even sacrifice the world to make sure you're always pretty and well taken care of. he knew how you love to care for yourself from the way you do your skincare, haircare, daily exercises, makeup and dressing up. he loves it as well and enjoys to indulge into it. as long as you're happy, he is happy as well.

that was until today, when he saw a frown on your pretty face. it wasn't common for you to get upset so easily, he wonder what could've cause such discomfort for you. is it the month of your menstrual cycle begin? no way, that'll be on another 2 weeks, he keep tracks on them. is it because your boss was being harsh on you? no way, he started up a business for you to run and support your cute cafe that sell fresh pastries, sweet flowers and refreshing coffee. is it because your favourite show was postponed because of the billing? no way, he made sure to purchase a year worth of membership with the highest graphic quality for you every year. so, what is it that bother you? he makes his way toward you and holds your hand only for you to pulls it away from him quickly, panic eyes staring at his. he noticed how you hide your hand behind you.

"hubby! hi!" you stuttered a little, trying your best to hide whatever you'd like to hide from him.

"you good, dearest? why won't you let me hold your hand?" he asked, his hand moving to grab yours again.

"my skin is too dry, it'd be unpleasant for you to hold them." you told him, removing your hands from his again.

"what a nonsense, you've always been perfect, dear." he praised, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"my, thank you. aren't you praising me too much, reo?"

"mm, never, dear."

he kisses your lips this time, distracting you from his hand caressing yours, pulling away when he finally caught unto the reason of you hiding your hands from him. he looks into your eyes, scrunching up his nose when he noticed you're getting a bit shy from his full attention and affection.

"what?" you pouted.

"you're so cute and silly too, dear." reo teased, giggling when you playfully frowned at him.

he fish out a velvet box from his back pocket, showing it to you as he opens them. inside, is your wedding ring, the one that you thought you had lost it. you gasp and look at him.

"how?! i thought i lost it!"

"i took them for a cleaning, remember? how could you be so forgetful, dear."

reo smiles as he gets onto one knee, holding your hand gently as he slips it back onto your ring finger. standing up, he kisses the back of your hand. he is so amused with your expression at the moment, all flustered just like how he proposed to you before.

"why were you not telling the truth while ago, hm?" reo questioned.

"knowing you, you'd buy new ones if i truly lost it— "

"why, of course. i'll buy you as many rings as possible, as long as you're happy."

of course he would, how could you doubt him? he is your husband who love to spoil you a little too much.

"thank you, but i'd love to lower the usage of our money, you know?"

"why? is your cafe's billing getting higher? i'll— "

"reo hubby, no. little mikage is on the way, of course we should be spending wisely, right?"

"oh, right, yea— wait. what?!"

you laughed at his reaction. my, your husband is so entertaining.

"yes, dear. we're having a baby!"

reo laughs happily as he hugs you, carefully yet tightly.

"i'm calling nagi, he needs to know that he is an uncle now!"

and you know you did the right thing when you accepted his ring of promises and afraid of losing it. he promised to make you the happiest person ever and he did fulfilled his promises. or should you say, he has always been fulfilling his promises and sealed his promise to eternity.

© HIRAGIKISS 2024 | do not repost my contents to any other platforms.

masterlist . pinned post

[illicitlimerence-writes]

baby bear | c. leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader word count: 1.7k words request: nope. warnings: fluff, a baby, this is really badly written bc i haven’t written an actual story in monthsssss. this was based on this tiktok i saw a few weeks ago, plsss watch it before reading if you want the context, otherwise it won't make much sense. tell me this isn't the most charles energy you've ever seen. a/n: look who remembered her tumblr password. i haven't been on here for so long... what's new? what are the new trends? how are we liking the new f1 season? how are you? perhaps posting once every three months will be my personality from now on.

my masterlist 

“look what i bought.” 

those words were not unusual to hear, especially coming from charles, especially since you found out you were pregnant. you looked up from the book you were reading, raising your eyebrows at the sight of charles’ bright eyes and him trying to bite back a grin.

“so… i was wondering around, and stumbled upon the baby store,” he started, you nodded, knowing he obviously went there on purpose, “and found the cutest, most perfect little suit for the baby,” 

“okay…” you started, placing a bookmark and closing the book as you sat up, extending your arm, asking him to get closer. “is it cute?” 

“the cutest.” he said, placing the bag on the bed and taking out the suit.

“aw, charles,” your heart immediately melted at the sight of a brown bear suit, with a small hoodie and bear ears. “it looks cozy, and big…” you noticed. 

“yeah, she’s gonna look perfect in it.” he said, leaning forward to kiss your lips. after that, he walked to the crib you’d set up in your room, to be able to reach the baby faster in the first few months of her life. in there, you’d set up the bag you would bring to the hospital when she was ready to join the world.

“what are you doing?” you said, getting up and walking to him, you wrapped an arm around him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“i want her to wear this when she comes home,” he explained, and you could tell just by the way he blurted that out a little too fast, that he meant it, and that he’d probably already imagined the sight of your beautiful new baby in his arms. you wanted to tell him that this maybe was a bit too big for her, but you didn’t want to break his bubble.

“okay, but we have to wash this first, alright?” you smiled, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek while he nodded, knowing you were right.

“my little bella bear.” he sighed as he caressed the soft suit.

-

five months later, your little baby girl, isabella, had already outgrown her original suit, your heart broke a little, knowing how much charles loved seeing her in it.

he was currently out of the country, but already on his way back home after a few days on the other side of the world. you were rocking your little girl to sleep when you heard your phone ring. you grabbed it and smiled as you saw charles’ face fill your screen. 

“hey,” you whispered, tilting your phone down so he could see the baby.

“hi, my baby,” he said, making you smile. “why isn’t she wearing the suit?” he asked.

“charles, she wore it yesterday,” you chuckled, remembering the way he almost screamed in delight as he saw her in it the day before. 

“yeah, and?” 

“she can’t wear it every day,” you laughed softly, not wanting to disturb her. “i’ll wash it tonight.”

“okay, i can’t wait to be back home. i want to hold you both,” 

“what time do you get here?” you smiled, having missed him after being away for almost a week. luckily, the next three races were close to home.

“i’m not sure. i’ll check and let you know. but don’t worry, lorenzo will pick me up. can i ask you a favor, though?”

“of course.”

“can you dress her in the bear suit?” he almost pleaded, pouting. 

“fine,” you laughed, “you’ll see your little bear tomorrow.”

-

charles would not, in fact, be seeing his little bear. because one cruel thing about having a baby is how quick they grow. it was bizarre, since just two days ago it still fit her perfectly, but now her legs were a little too long to fit comfortably, her head a little too big to place the hood on it.

you swore under your breath, knowing how heartbroken charles would be once he found out the news. you dressed bella in a different outfit, some white overalls that had little bears embroidered on it with a brown shirt underneath. it was the best you could do. 

but then you received a text from charles.

‘can't wait to see you and bella bear.’ followed by a white heart and a bear emoji. 

“oh, my god,” you mumbled, grabbing bella, your handbag and car keys.

you drove to the store you knew charles had bought the original bear suit from, with bella on your arm, since you didn’t have time to grab her stroller or anything, you were thinking out loud, talking to bella as you walked through the store and looked for the suit.

“the things we do for daddy, he just loves seeing you in that suit,” you said, kissing her temple as you walked through the store. “there it is.” you walked there, looking for the right size. “you know what? let’s get a few more.” you said, grabbing enough suits to hopefully fit her until at least her first birthday. bella giggled, curling her fists on the fabric of the suit. “you love the bear suit, too, don’t you?” you asked her, kissing her cheek. “my bella bear,” you often found yourself repeating the nickname charles gave her from that very first day a few weeks before she was born. 

you quickly drove home and changed her into the suit, and waited for charles to arrive.

“i’m home!” he said, about twenty minutes after you got home. 

“hey,” you walked to him, feeling his hands on your waist as he lifted you up, “i missed you.” you said as you buried your face in his neck.

“i missed you too, my love. i’m so happy i don’t have to travel too far away now.”

“i know. and maybe bella and i can join you?” you asked, having contemplated that idea while charles was gone. 

“you think she’s ready? are you?” you shrugged.

“we won’t know unless we try.” 

“okay, then… we’ll try.” he placed a kiss to your lips, one that took your breath away like it was the very first one. “where is she?” 

“napping,” you answered, slipping your fingers between his and leading him to bella’s room. she’d already upgraded from the crib in your shared room to her own. 

“my little bella bear, i missed you so much,” he said, kneeling in front of the crib and running his knuckle softly against her chubby cheek. “you look so pretty in your bear suit.” 

-

and as months passed, charles was still unaware of the change of suits. every two or three months you’d change into the next size, taking advantage of the weather changing -telling charles that it was too warm for bella to wear it as often-, and the times he had to leave home. you would rummage through the drawers in bella’s room, where you kept all the suits she had grown out of. 

it sometimes came with little slip-ups, like the time you forgot about one small rip in the original suit that you’d sewn together. as a force of habit, charles’ hand reached for that spot, just to make sure it was still there, that it wasn’t growing any bigger. but it wasn’t there. 

“huh,” he hummed out loud, catching your attention.

“what?” you asked, looking up from the puzzle you were piecing together. 

“nothing, it’s just… the rip, it feels weird.” he said, running his finger up and down the place where the rip was supposed to be. 

“oh, maybe it got messed up in the wash,” you said the first thing that came to your mind. 

“maybe,”

“hey, can you help me find this piece?” you asked, changing the subject quickly to get it out of his head. 

in the blink of an eye, her first birthday was approaching, and so did the choice to pick a theme for her birthday party.

“she’s been really into flowers lately,” you told charles one morning, as you both helped bella stand up and encouraged her to walk from parent to parent. 

“hmm… flowers and rainbows?” he said, holding bella up as she steadied herself. “you like that bella bear?” he asked her. you reached to your side holding a flower plushie you’d bought her a few days ago.

“flowers, bella?” you held it in front of you, but bella turned around, playing with charles instead. “that’s a no, i guess,” you chuckled.

“i know…” charles said, setting bella down and walking to her bed. he grabbed her teddy bear, “bears?”

“bear!” you both turned your heads at the same time, staring at bella. 

“oh my god, did she-”

“i think she did, come here,” you said, grabbing the teddy from him, “bear?”

“bear!” she repeated, and you held her in your arms as charles sat next to you.

“your first word, baby…” he murmured, and you looked up at him, heart melting at the sight of his eyes shining bright at your daughter. 

“what about a bear party?” you suggested.

“i was thinking the same thing. i’ll go to the store tomorrow to buy her a new suit, now we can add this one to the collection,” he said, putting on the little hoodie. 

“what?” you asked, completely taken aback by his comment.

“yeah, the drawer filled with the suits,” he pointed at it.

“you knew?” 

“what? that you’d been secretly switching the suits, ripping and sewing it back together so that i wouldn’t notice? yeah,” he said.

“then why- how-”

“that first suit… you really thought i wouldn’t find it weird how the rip was there, then it wasn’t, and then it magically appeared again?” 

“you just loved that suit so much, and i didn’t want to break your heart once she started to grow them out, so i got a bunch and kept them there.”

“i know. i’ve seen them,”

“oh my god,” you groaned, leaning against him as he laughed.

“i love you. it was so hard to keep this to myself.”

“how do you think i felt?” you laughed, looking down at bella. “why didn’t you tell me anything, missy?” you tickled her belly, smiling at her loud giggles. 

“come on, bella bear, we have to go find a new suit for your birthday party.”

BYE this is really bad, i'm sorry.

[pseudophan]

I genuinely think the hard launch is going to be them just sharing nasty sex misshap stories. Like people think they're gonna profess their love for each other on stage, I think they'll talk about bjs gone wrong

no this is exactly why they lowkey can't hard launch ever because that plausible deniability is the only thing standing between us and the most disturbing anecdotes you've heard in your life. even now they manage to sneak them in there (amazingdrpepper anyone) but it would be so much worse i just know it

[ndjournal]

How’s your dream going?

it’s been a while since i’ve heard about you!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Dearest anon, my dream is well and peaceful although I am indifferent to it either way now which is what makes it peaceful and effortless :)

I considered writing a post on my learnings but was a bit hesitant because it's just another version of an experience that's already been spoken/written about many times before and there's nothing particularly special about this one. However, since you've asked, I will share some things about my journey and what has helped me personally which might help other Vanessas/versions of me out there. Please only take what resonates, my journey is not a blueprint for all journeys however I have noticed some commonalities in truth seekers.

The biggest thing was quite literally giving up entirely. I actually wrote a post on giving up about 3 months ago when I was earlier into this 'journey' and I still agree of course with what I wrote however I would write it differently if I were to write it now (it would be a more expanded version); perhaps I will write a part 2 although this answer here can sort of be taken as a part 2. You see, this Vanessa's life was quite comfortable in general so when she started on the ND path, while she was very determined to "get it", I wasn't motivated or entirely willing to give her up. We spent a lot of time letting go of concepts and limitations (and that definitely helped later on so I'm not saying it's not helpful, do what resonates for you!) and Vanessa/the ego was becoming subtler and subtler but it was still something I held onto. There was still identification with not much motivation to give it up entirely - sure there had been desire and interest to 'materialize' things but when we gave that up too, there wasn't anything. I was still lost in Maya despite the dream not being all that captivating or enjoyable.

Then quite literally life circumstances all of a sudden threw some major curveballs and Vanessa was terrified despite all that she had learned - it felt like all knowledge had suddenly disappeared and she had absolutely nothing to hold onto. After trying various things and going round in circles trying to keep everything at bay, the only thing left that really resonated was to quite literally give up on everything - it felt like there was no other option for peace but to do so because she was so mentally exhausted and drained from caring about every single thing that it was so much more appealing to be nothing and no one, to just BE… oh just the thought of being nothing and no one was freeing.

4dbarbie's words here gave Vanessa a lot of strength and direction (although her answer there was for a new identity, I did not use it for that as it was exhausting to even think of a new identity. I just wanted to be nothing and no one, that was most peaceful)

Give UP: It is what it is and 'you' can't do anything about it. Just let it all happen, we all die one day and it's over anyway. Worrying, fearing, doubting, striving, searching, desiring - how tiring, you would much rather sleep a hundred years. No matter what, you can't force life to give you what you want. Allow everything its being and leave it alone. Expect nothing from your body or mind. Let them do whatever they want, cease caring. Literally dgaf, if life wants to beat you, just let it beat you. (Ever had a bully? They get bored when you stop reacting and they leave you alone. They may increase the strength of their punches at first, but so what? You're already getting bullied... you can do nothing about it but cease caring and let it happen.)

And also this from 4dbarbie helped me understand the indifference that I had to embody:

I did not fake a lack of disturbance, I just let things happen to 'me' painful or not, I did not try not to react, I just didn't get involved emotionally with what was going on because I was tired, completely, of both desiring and being scared. The emotions didn't interest me anymore, I became indifferent to whatever was happening, neutral. If 'I' got what I wanted, whatever, if I didn't whatever again. I didn't try to change anything, the events just passed without leaving a 'footprint', all the bad/unwanted things had no reverberations anymore, it was like they never existed. Then there comes the idea of: what if they never actually did? And you fiddle and play with that a little. It's just play because you don't really care anymore, it's a real feeling of being unaffected, it's not manufactured because you aren't trying to get anything, not even 'realization', you want nothing anymore. This detached feeling, of needing nothing - it brings a lot of power, try to at least reach that and worry about the rest later.

She knew she had to stop trying to fight life but she was afraid of what would happen if she did stop trying. Eventually she got exhausted and had nothing left. Then no longer wanting/searching/trying to make happen any particular outcome or caring anymore, just pure indifference being in the present moment with no conditions/labels/problems is what gave her peace and then things just starting to ease up on their own. Things even happening on their own with just a random thought without any particular input.

I realized all the practices that Vanessa did before the curveballs had a 'doing' intention, a 'purpose' behind them (quieting the mind, self-realization, dropping beliefs etc) while afterwards, the same 'practices' were engaged again but with the intention of just being with no labels, no agenda, just being nothing and no one and this made all the difference - when you are no longer doing anything - you are not the doer/body/ego/mind; you're just being with no identification and no longer care about anything. And the indifference here is not forced or pretend like she used to have before as a defense mechanism, its genuine true indifference and full acceptance of everything (see the second 4dbarbie excerpt above - understanding and experiencing this subtle difference will help a lot).

The reality only comes when you give up yourself, when you give up your ego, when you give up your needs, your wants, trying to make something happen, desires, when you give up trying to become self-realized, when you just give up. - Robert Adams

Life is just a giant mirror of your Self. When you stop fighting it, it will stop too. But you have to be the one to initiate it. It takes courage and faith for sure to take that leap.

It has no choice but to die. What you take to be reality is the same, take away your identification and it soon ceases to be. - 4dbarbie

It can be easy to get lost in the dream again if you get caught up in the 'materialization' aspect - it's all still a dream even if forms change. Lester also talked about this in No Attachments, No Aversions:

I knew these things were not to be latched on to. I knew that if I got interested in them, I'd stop progressing. I had seen by this time that this world is a mentation - a dream. So to get interested in the dream again through interest in powers would trap me back into what I was wanting to get out of. - Lester Levenson

Also remember these things happen on their own, it's not the ego that's doing any of this and Self doesn't 'do' - Self is just effortlessly being. There's no 'doing' involved. If there's effort, it's ego as Lester said.

Now when I read my past blog posts or read Lester or Robert, there's an entirely new level of understanding and resonance with their words from before. This excerpt from Silence of the Hearts speaks more on what I was experiencing as well.

Let go of everything. Do not hold on. Stand naked before God, without any crutches, without anything to hold on to. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to stand naked before God. By standing naked I mean no scripture, no fancy words, no preconceived ideas, no spiritual intellectual knowledge. - Robert Adams

Perhaps without those curveballs, Vanessa would have continued to live in the illusion like an NPC in a Sims game until something like that happened to her and forced her to completely give up on everything and stand naked before God (her Self).

A day will come when you will long for the ending of the dream with all your heart and mind, and be willing to pay any price; the price will be dispassion and detachment and the loss of interest in the dream itself. Once you have seen that you are dreaming, you shall wake up. - Nisargadatta Maharaj

Now I know all happens by itself and I am just witness to it all. To all Vanessas out there, I know you got this. Follow your heart and trust in what resonates! And remember not to compare yourself to others, we are all One. Everything will be okay 💜💜💜

[sugar-plum-writer]

A God Has Descended to Earth

Paring: Gojo Satrou x fem!reader Tags: God complex, one-shot, what happens when a god like existence on Earth makes you wonder? if all the gods you knew were fake A/n: I just wrote this after being inspired from Lana's - "Salvatore", I have listened to it many times but this version of it being in a cathedral unblocked my writers block. The echo, the reverberation, and blue cathedral inspired me to write some lines and it evolved to this lol~ I hope you guys like it! pls leave a comment for any feedback if you like it!

Throughout the lands and the sky above, beyond the glistening stars the breeze itself seemed to freeze to not disturb his walk. Black, white and blue sky, a gold painted sun cathedral with echo's of power resonating through each crevice swirling like the depth of oceans, and storming like a titanic on the clouds

Stepping down he looked like a God

using the sky itself as a staircase he stepped down, elegantly- playfully smirking, he needed no cathedral, he needed no church or temple, why? The sky was his, the sky was the cathedral, the only place high enough for a man like him to look down on the world and be worshiped.

No throne was worthy enough for him, none dared to bear his weight, no gold or diamonds needed to show his wealth, Afterall, which diamonds could ever compare to the azure blue painting his eyes reflecting the sun and the ocean in it's wake.

The sky was his, it exists because he exists, with just a drop of his power thousands could be ripped till bones and daggers cannot be forged. Having the strength to take the Earth from the back of Atlas and bear it on his mere hands; spinning it like a child spinning the globe. As if it was the most weightless object in the world.

How did such a man exist- was beyond you, having heard about him through many people, calling him annoying, cocky, over-confident, but one thing the whole world agreed on- he was the strongest. You laughed it off as you heard many things related to him, so many stories a 1000 nights couldn't match up, wondering if you could meet this man known as the strongest yourself

Until, you saw him, the man himself walking down from the sky

Sharp cuts on your body stung dripping with blood, making you beg your nerves to stop feeling this piercing pain. If it stopped you could focus more, hot blood drenched a side of your face, blurring your vision hazy, it smelled like iron and tasted disgusting on your throat making you want to vomit

Seeing him made your breath stop, world stop, the chaos fell silent and deaf to your ears- looking at him breathless as he walked towards you not even realizing the curse you were fighting was still alive

With a light grin he raised his hand

"Red"

Such a simple word, just 1 syllable

Obliterated half of the area you were standing flat, grimy blood of the curse splattered on the wall behind you- with a crater big enough to hold an elephant, but rather than horror it looked like a painting- a painting of raw power

Is this what ultimate power looks like?

The curse you struggled to fight against, gasping for breath in every killing blow, small cuts graced your body making your skin be basked in crimson, nearly dying fighting this curse and for him it was just

One Syllable

You stared at him, stunned to speak, he did not avert your gaze rather kept looking in your eyes, the azure eyes melting into your own- evoking the feeling of your soul being consumed by him

Gently raising his hand- he brushed your hair aside- though his hands got covered in your blood he paid no mind

"My My~ that's quite an expression you've got their my dear"

leaning in his lips close to yours- inches apart- gaze unwavering looking into your heart

"A-Are you a God?"

You do not know why such words came from your mouth, they just did, as if wanting to know, if the god you have been worshipping your whole life was fake

"Am I?"

He chuckled

"If I am, will you go down on your knees and worship me? will my name be the only prayer on your lips? Answer me dear? Will you?"

With a light smile he said the words as if they are weightless- even a god declaring his words would make himself look mighty, is he above a God?

"If so"

"Kneel"

Link to my Masterlist in case you want to read other works of mine

[dotieeee]

A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK one-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, etc, 18+ only!!

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Summary: You were at the cusp of making a life for yourself when you bought a loaf of bread for a stranger, who seemed a little bit too taken with such a nice gesture.

When you were a kid, everybody around you seemed to think you got a great life ahead of you. You kept hearing them comment how bright you were, how talented, how lucky your parents were to have such a behaved, wonderful child - and for a time, it got to your head.

Until life proved you weren't really any of those things.

It started creeping in when you went away to college. You had a taste of freedom, of zero expectations, and a glimpse of a world suddenly leagues beyond yourself. It was one class at first, then another, until you started dropping out of every class and left college altogether.

Many therapy sessions, and a couple of therapists later, you found out what it was called: burnout. It just so happened it plagued you a little early in life.

In retrospect, perhaps you could've tried harder - if you had just snoozed your alarm off a little less; if you had just grit your teeth and stomached your way through a few more algebra periods instead of sitting alone in that little corner of the library, reading whatever, hidden from a world you barely knew - perhaps it all would've been different.

Perhaps, you wouldn't be stuck in this small, glass cage floating in a vast chasm, in a place you hadn't thought existed even in your wildest dreams.

It was a day like any other, you supposed: the day you met him. You had to go to work, to a desk job that you actually liked, writing for a local food magazine. You were quite good at it too - it's a skill you had when you were quite young and had not had a chance to cultivate until late. Sure, you were barely making ends meet and had very little time to spare, what with taking a certificate course at a nearby university and recently moving out of your parents' house to rent your own little apartment, but you were feeling optimistic for the first time in a long while. Your boss just let it slip the other day that you were due for a well-deserved promotion soon. It was a slow process, but you were finally on your way to getting your life back together. You had a future you looked forward to.

Having already established your morning routine, you were on your way early to the office and decided to stop for coffee at this corner bakeshop you had once featured in one of your articles. The smell of freshly baked bread distracted you from a mental draft you were making for an article due tonight, so on impulse, you asked the cashier for a plain butter croissant at the counter. You looked to your right where the pastries were to see whether you wanted something else (the danishes looked scrumptious). You opened your mouth to ask the other lady behind the bread counter for a cherry danish, but her attention was already on the man beside you, clad in a thick, woollen black coat, collar upturned, his chiselled jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly at the question the lady posed for him.

"Uh, sir? I asked what you'd like to have?"

He tilted his head imperceptibly and for a moment, you thought he couldn't speak, until he opened those pursed lips, and finally, came out the most velvety, alluring voice you've ever heard: "I'd like some bread, please."

"Well, we've got quite a lot of them," the lady replied slowly as if she was trying her best not to be snarky at the stranger. "Might I recommend the baguette? It's fresh out of the oven."

The man nodded curtly as the lady picked the steaming bread from the basket display using a pair of tongs and placed it inside a brown paper bag.

"That'll be one twenty-five, sir."

The man made no move to shuffle in his pockets for money. In fact, he stayed still, stiff as a board, staring at the lady behind the counter who was getting rather irritated at his dawdling, probably keeping her from attending to the growing line of other customers waiting to get their breakfast. Perhaps, he didn't have money? Perhaps, just like your first few weeks out of your parents' house, he was struggling and he had no one else to depend on?

"I-I'll pay for it."

You didn't know what it really was that compelled you to say it - maybe it was that draft you were itching to get to, maybe you found empathy in his situation, whatever it was - at that time, you had no regrets. Seemingly surprised by the gesture, the man in the black coat, with his dishevelled hair and his pale countenance, stared at you intensely through those long eyelashes of his, and for a few moments, you held his gaze.

His eyes. They were a nice shade of ocean blue. They were the most beautiful pair of eyes you had ever seen.

You would later discover they could bleed to depthless black - ruthless, vindictive, inhuman.

The cashier handed you your change and your croissant, effectively breaking the spell the stranger beside you had on you. The cherry danish all but ignored, you flashed the man a small smile and headed out of the bakeshop, going about your merry way to the office with nothing but that article in mind.

And for the next two weeks, you had already put the rather bizarre incident (man) behind you, having been assigned to another place to visit and write about.

The man, however, never forgot.

The place you had been assigned to, called the New Inn, actually belonged to a professor in your university. You've had quite a lot of fun in his classes, so this was a gig you were pretty excited about.

It was a little over five in the afternoon when you stepped inside Professor Gadling's pub. He was already there in the corner booth, grading several essays. He put them aside as you arrived and asked a waiter to bring you both coffee. You were in the process of bringing out your digital recorder for the interview when you heard a voice so familiar it sent shivers down your spine.

"Hob."

Completely taken by surprise, you dropped the recorder to the floor, and it landed just a few inches from a pair of black boots. You tried to reach for it, but a pale, bony hand picked it up and wordlessly handed it to you. You looked up, only to get lost in a pair of ocean-blue eyes focused entirely on you.

It was the stranger from the bakeshop.

You took the recorder, muttering a flustered 'thank you,' before Professor Gadling greeted him like an old friend. He then introduced you to the stranger, who oddly enough just stared at you the entire time.

"She's interviewing me for the pub. I'll be featured in a magazine, can you believe it?" Professor Gadling said to the stranger who stepped inside the booth, intending to take the empty seat directly across from you. Turning to you, he stated, "This is my friend -"

"You may call me Morpheus." The man interrupted, a ghost of a smile visible on his usually blank features. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

It was unnerving the way he held your gaze without blinking, but perhaps it was just your imagination - after all, you hadn't had anything to eat since that leftover Chinese noodles this morning.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” was all you could come up with.

You were grateful when the waiter arrived with two cups of coffee and a dessert platter, and the interview with the professor went well and without interruptions. You both had so much fun, you ended up having dinner and drinks at the pub, and while it struck you odd that your third, silent companion did not partake in any single morsel of the food, by the time the evening ended at half-past ten, you had enough material for your article and were in great spirits. You thanked him for being such a gracious host and politely bid your farewell, as you were anxious to get a headstart on the draft.

The three of you simultaneously got to your feet - Professor Gadling to walk you outside, and the odd man named Morpheus trailing behind.

"Do come by again, my dear, and good luck with the article. I know you'd do a fantastic job." The professor said as he waved farewell outside the pub. He turned to Morpheus, who stood just a few feet away, watching the interaction, and gestured to him inside - presumably for them to continue their conversation - but as soon as you waved goodbye, he made a beeline for you, stopping just a few inches away and towering over you.

Too close, you thought. Wait, were his eyes twinkling? It must’ve been the streetlamp, the lights outside were pretty dim.

"I would like to accompany you on your walk home."

His words threw you off because they were so unexpected. He had no reason to do so, after all. Shyly, you beamed at him and replied, "I'd appreciate it, Morpheus, but I wouldn't like to impose...weren't you meeting with the professor?"

Professor Gadling, who apparently was in earshot of your conversation, waved you away.

"No, it's fine, dear. Besides, a young lady such as yourself shouldn't be walking alone at night. I'll see you some other time, my friend," he added, winking at Morpheus, who just tilted his chin in reply.

The professor had a point. You lived nearby, that was true, but the streets weren't safe on a Friday night, especially at this hour. You chewed on the insides of your cheek, nervous at the fact that you have not had anyone walk you home in a long while.

It's just a walk home. It couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Okay."

You would come to regret your response.

***

Inwardly, Morpheus rejoiced at the thought of you lowering your guard with him. He motioned with a hand to let you lead the way, not that he needed it - in two weeks after your fateful encounter at the bakeshop he had gotten to know every little detail he needed to know about you, including where you lived, of course. He had seen the little apartment himself when you were out at work, and while it irked him that you had to live in such a humble abode, he knew through your dreams that you had filled the apartment with love and considered it your sanctuary. It wouldn't matter once he took you home to his kingdom as his lover - for you, he'd craft an entire palace carved in precious stones in the blink of an eye, and it would be your sanctuary, just as much as this tiny home.

He did a fine job, too, of luring you into the place his centuries-old friend now owned. It took him only one dream, planted during your boss’s deepest slumber, for you to get sent right where Morpheus wanted you to be. All this planning and you were right there, with him, just as the fates would have it.

He had to ask you tonight. He has waited long enough.

***

You were just a few blocks away from your apartment building when you finally gained the courage to break the awkward silence between you two.

"Thank you for walking me home," you said quietly as you eyed him sideways. Your eyes widened at the sight that greeted you: he had a genuine, warm smile on his face you'd never seen on him before, and if his demeanour is anything to go by, you knew this was a rarity.

He looked like a prince, even with his hair sticking out in all directions.

"It is I who should be thanking you for your kindness to me at that establishment," he spoke with conviction. "I have not forgotten."

Surprised, but overall glad that he remembered, you matched his expression as best you can and replied, "You're welcome."

Nothing was ever exchanged until you reached your apartment door, but he seemed to draw closer to you, your shoulders almost touching.

Your hand was already at the keys to the doorknob when you asked him if he wanted to come in.

"For tea, perhaps?" You added. "I couldn't help but notice you didn’t eat at dinner, so…”

It was a last-minute decision, seeing as he was kind enough to ensure you got home safely. He could do with a few biscuits, too, in your opinion, judging by his pallor and his refusal to eat anything at the pub.

There it was again - that captivating smile, but behind it, you see a flash of something else entirely. It was gone even before you could fully take it in, so you shrugged inwardly. The hallway’s lighting has always been too dark to see a damn thing.

“You need not concern yourself over me, I am much stronger than I look,” he said in a light, teasing tone. “However, your effort would be appreciated.”

“Oh, it’s no problem!” You waved him off and pushed the door open to your home. “I just hope you don’t mind tea without milk, I haven’t done any grocery shopping yet…”

Morpheus followed you inside, closing the door behind him, as you went off to your room to drop your bag on the bed and set up your laptop on your work desk. As soon as you got out of your room, you found him with his back to you, rummaging through the copies of the magazine you wrote for.

“Nothing interesting in those, I’m afraid. Still, not bad for a would-be writer, don’t you think?”

Chuckling to yourself, you made your way to the tiny kitchen to put the electric kettle to boil, then rummaged through the cupboards for a mug you were saving for when you had guests over. Not that you’ve ever had any - so far, he was the first you’ve had since you moved in.

“‘A would-be writer?’”

The proximity of his voice startled you, seeing as you thought he had still been reading back in the living room. It’s admittedly only a few steps away, but you hadn’t heard him approach. He was at the kitchen doorway, casting a long shadow in the dimly lit space. You had forgotten to turn the lights on, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

“You give yourself very little credit for such riveting work,” he said as he closed the distance between you. The kettle had just turned off by itself, so you concentrated on pouring the boiling water on the mug and dropping a Ceylon tea bag inside. Leaning on the tiled counter, you watched the tea leaves bleed into the water, turning it to a lovely amber colour.

“I don’t know about that -”

Your sentence was cut short as you felt his fingertips subtly stroke your elbow, giving you goosebumps all over your arm.

He’d gotten so close…

Scooping up the mug with both hands, you turn around to hand him the mug, only to find yourself inches away from him you almost spill the hot liquid on his woollen coat.

“Your writing has soul. I should know: I have read every word you have ever written.”

Blinking up at him, you saw him dip his head closer to yours as his pale, warm hands enclosed around yours, still holding the tea.

You were trembling, it seemed, but he stilled it.

“Th-thank you," you whispered, unable to avert your gaze from those piercing blue eyes that seemed to pin you to place, as was his tall, imposing form enclosing you between him and the kitchen counter. He was so close you could feel the heat emanating from him. "That means so much to me.”

Or was it the heat from your cheeks you felt?

Seemingly oblivious to your increasingly flustered state, Morpheus made a deliberate move to extricate the cup of tea from your grasp so he could set it back down behind you (it was probably already over-brewed, you thought), while you try to compose yourself and ignore his fingers softly grazing your knuckles. You didn't have much time, however, because the next thing you knew was those same hands cupping your cheeks and his soft lips brushing over yours in a chaste kiss that stole your breath completely.

You felt him release his hold on you, perhaps to observe your reaction. Perhaps, you could’ve pushed him away right there and then; screamed at him for touching you and thrown him out of your home; but you couldn’t summon your limbs to respond. He took your momentary lapse of judgement to crash his lips on yours once more - it was a more heated, more insistent kiss, and as if to seal you to him, his hands travelled to your back to encase you in an embrace and pushed you further into the counter.

This was wrong.

It was all your instincts could tell you. So you heeded them and pushed against the lapel of his coat with all your strength. It was like pushing against a wall, but you managed to wriggle free from his grasp, so you made an effort to put as much distance between you and him as your tiny kitchen would allow. You glanced immediately at his face to gauge his expression, and to your utter shock, his eyes had gone entirely black. One blink, and it was blue once more, maybe even a tad regretful.

It’s the lighting in this damn kitchen, you assured yourself.

“I understand I may have been too forward,” he began, “But I assure you, my intentions are pure. I have waited for this since our fateful meeting.” He took slow steps towards you, and unconsciously you backed away until your back hit the fridge. There was nowhere else to back into. He halted as soon as he sensed your guard up.

“Morpheus, it was just a loaf of bread, really…”

Morpheus’s eyes softened visibly at your words and simply continued, “And by that selfless act, you have saved me in more ways than you could ever understand. I have held you in my heart since, my precious little saviour.”

“I-I'm sure it's nothing...” you stammered.

“Allow me the honour of courting you, and in turn, you shall know of my gratitude, and my love, until the end of my days.”

Your heart sank at his declaration. Somehow, you knew in your heart he meant every word he said. You couldn’t have this, not when everything in your life was just starting to fall into place. You put on the kindest smile you could muster and spoke slowly as you chose the right words, hoping he wouldn’t be too downcast with what you were about to say to him.

“I'm sure you're a wonderful man, Morpheus. I just…I don't think I can make that commitment right now. I mean, I just met you, and all I know about you is that you’re Professor Gadling’s friend.”

“That can be rectified.”

You let out a sigh. This was going to be difficult, but you really didn’t like the idea of egging him on. “I know that, but…I don’t think I have time for that, you know?”

“How so?” he asked in a low voice, tilting his head slightly.

“It's been a struggle just to get to where I am today… I have my work, which I love, and for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm doing something right and…one wrong move could make me lose my footing. I’m sorry.”

Morpheus seemed unconvinced, taking a few steps forward to close that gap between you. “You need not worry yourself over such trivial matters. I know what you dream of. I can give you the recognition you deserve, the stability you crave and more… Come with me and I can show you.”

He offered an outstretched hand, urging you to take it. But if you were being honest, you just wanted to crawl into bed, the draft be damned. Exhaustion was starting to creep up on you.

“‘Come with you…?’ I'm sorry, please don't take this the wrong way, I'm sure you mean well…but-but-th-this isn't really a good time for this…” you stammered as you crossed your arms to make a point, which you hoped he’d finally take. “I think I'd like to be alone now, please. I-I have that…thing I want to finish, and it's getting late…I’m sorry, Morpheus. I really am.”

Morpheus’s hand lowered steadily, but all the softness he had in his expression was gone without a trace, replaced with cold, hard eyes and furrowed brows. The warmth you have loved your apartment for all but disappeared, replaced with a clammy air that seemed to come from…from him.

“You have no idea what you've just turned away…nor who I am, and what I can do,” came Morpheus’s voice, lowered to an unrecognisable timbre. “I will give you this final chance to amend your answer, my little saviour.”

“E-excuse me?” you said, fighting the urge to run away from him and hide. This was your home, you had no reason to. Who the hell was he to threaten you in your own home? “I'd like you to leave, please, or I'm calling the police…”

He was only a few feet away from you now, and the wind somehow grew stronger, you could feel its rough caress on your skin.

Sand.

The light in your kitchen turned on without a warning, and your eyes widened at the sight of the man you had so carelessly allowed into your home:

A dangerous man - now a being transforming right before you - with chilling black eyes, a heavy flurry of sand circling him, and waves of black smoke emanating from his growing form…

Paralyzed in utter fear, your heart pounding in your ears, all you could do was hold on to the fridge as you watched him approach your cowering form on the floor. Gone was that princely face you shared a gentle kiss with, replaced by a bony, skeletal mask with hollow cheekbones, his mouth contorted in a snarl that revealed razor-sharp fangs.

His voice echoed as he spoke, raspy and deafening:

“I am quite disappointed in you, my precious saviour. No matter: I am not unmerciful.” A pale hand, now with blackened, sharpened nails, made an appearance before you. “Take my hand, my beloved, and I shall forgive your error.”

In your terrified state, all you could muster was an adamant shake of your head.

This can’t be real. It couldn’t be.

“I’m dreaming, I'm-I’m dreaming this, this can’t be real, you’re no-not real…” hunched on the floor, hugging your legs, you muttered to yourself.

“Very well,” he thundered. “You have made your choice. ”

You would later discover just how real dreams could be, and that they weren’t that much different from the nightmares.

***

Morpheus released a small sigh as he watched you in your spherical compartment, deep in troubled slumber. He had not meant to frighten you that much with his nightmarish form. Admittedly, he could’ve done a much better job with reeling himself in, but the pain of your rejection felt to him like a thousand daggers being plunged into his heart. All he wanted was for you to be happy with him. He could’ve given you everything he had seen you dream of - he still could, but not before he heard from your sweet lips an admittance of your guilt, and a vow never to spurn him again. 

He held the tiny sphere that contained your form in his palm and drew it closer to his face to get a better look at you. He had fashioned you a dress that brought out the colour of your eyes and soul: you looked ravishing, even in imprisonment. In his mind, he had played the memory of the kiss you had shared with him in your home a thousand times over. You were intoxicating, and the thought of kissing you again and finally marking your skin cemented his decision of keeping you in this space he crafted in his kingdom. You needed time to consider his proposal, that was to be expected. He would allow you the time you needed. All he had to do was assure you of your safety and well-being, seeing as scaring you even further might prolong his wait.

He knew you would wake soon, and he would explain his actions when you do. You would have no reason to refuse him, then.

***

You woke with a start, rubbing the sleep off your eyes, just to sit up and think.

You had lost count of the number of days you had spent in your glass enclosure, and there was nothing much to do except to observe your surroundings - nothing but a vast space, where distant stars glittered in the black tapestry that was space, with a single source of light in sight, like the sun, only that it offered no warmth. That, and to ruminate on the events that led you to this situation.

You remembered when you first came to, locked in this glorified cage. You still thought you were dreaming then, so you did everything you could to try waking yourself up, only none of it worked. That was when he appeared.

Dream of the Endless, he had called himself. The King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm.

He claimed to rule the place he had taken you to, which he called the Dreaming. He had then explained that everything humanity (‘your kind,’ you recalled him saying) had ever dreamed of in its sleep was as real as everything it sees, hears, and feels in its waking hours and that he presided over them since the first living creature dreamed, and will do so until the end of all life.

He had revealed that he had watched over you, your dreams and your waking hours, since your first meeting, and that he had not meant to scare you, only that he wished for you to accept his advances.

That was the first of his many attempts to get you to say ‘yes.’

He would ask in many ways: a long walk in this garden he called the Fiddler’s Green; a sumptuous dinner in one of his many grand halls; an adventurous tryst in one of the humans’ dreams. He had promised that if you agreed to be courted by him and be with him, he would take you out of your enclosure and release you, allow you to roam his kingdom as his lover, forever wanting nothing and lavishing in all the riches and trinkets he could offer.

From then, you knew you would never be allowed back into the life you had worked so hard to build, humble as it may have been.

At first, your response to his attempts of coaxing you into a relationship with him was a string of incoherent curses and screaming. After a while, they were plain ignored - his face would remain blank every time, if not a tad disappointed, or hurt.

You didn’t care.

But you were also lying if you said it hadn’t worn out your resolve. This day was one of them.

You missed food. Not that you were ever hungry - he had removed hunger from you in your imprisonment. He had given you the gift of dreamless sleep as well, but in your time alone with nothing to do except wake and sleep, you’d give almost anything to have dreams again. You had no other company except him and the vast, endless space beyond your cage that he had conjured for you. You being sealed away from everything was driving you closer to insanity every day, and that was his design: to make you desperate enough to submit to his will.

Without warning, your hair stood at the back of your neck, your senses on high alert.

Dream of the Endless had arrived.

“My precious little saviour,” he greeted in that deep, velvety voice you had grown to hate and find comfort in at the same time. “I have come for you.”

Your captor had a warm smile on his regal features, one that didn’t match his true intentions. You stared at him with a blank expression and let his greeting go unanswered.

“Will you join me for a walk in my garden?”

He kept his eye contact with you as he waited for your response. It unnerved you to no end, the way he held your gaze with those ocean-blue eyes of his, knowing a single ‘no’ from you would instantly turn it to the black ones you have known to fear. When you opened your mouth to speak, it actually hurt your throat - you hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Will you be locking me up again, after?”

He grinned at you and tilted his head slightly. “If you behave and do as I say, I will not.”

Only a single tear that escaped from your eye betrayed that gnawing feeling of defeat in your gut. Finally swallowing whatever pride you had left, you made a decision.

“Yes.”

You should never have bought him that damned loaf of bread.

***

Just a little one-shot I wanted to write to get myself out of a writing rut I've been stuck with wanting Comatose to be perfect it stressed me out too much :// I will still work on it, I promise! I just need to get this out the way to get my writing mojo back :D

PART II here!!!!

Thank you for reading!!!! Please engage and all that it's really appreciate iiiit

***

[dystychiphxbia]

☆ - on a different league | narumiya mei

this could've been a longer story but the daiya fandom is not at its peak anymore so i decided to sum it up into this one shot but it just doesn't have the right vibe </3 i did finish it though so im posting it, not proofread she/her pronouns for reader wc: 1.7k

You met Narumiya Mei in your first year of high school.

You went to Inashiro for their track team. During middle school, you harbored some honorable records and thus managed to score a scholarship - your parents would've never afforded to send you to a private school otherwise.

You were excited for your new school life - focusing on your club activities and training hard, getting new friends...You never thought that Narumiya Mei would become part of your life.

He was your classmate. He had charm, you had to admit, and soon enough your whole class seemed to be infatuated with him. But you could see past that.

"And then I got the guy with my ultra super awesome changeup-"

"Changeup? What was that, again?" A smug grin appeared on your face as you watched Narumiya's smile drop. You were now in your second year, and he had gotten into the habit of bragging to you whenever he did something "cool".

"I've told you tons of times, (L/n)!! Are you stupid or something?!" "You've seen my grades, Narumiya. I think that answers your question." You watched the blond grit his teeth.

Narumiya was someone who did not need to worry about his grades - his future lay in baseball. Yet ever since your first year, he wanted to compete with you in every single subject. He just never failed to get the hint - that academically speaking - you would always be superior.

"She's so infuriating, Masa-san!!" Was Narumiya's most common phrase when he arrived to practice. And everyone knew that they were in for a long rant about Narumiya's so-called 'enemy'. They had started placing bets on when their ace would realize that he was most likely head over heels for you.

If one of them even hinted at something like that, Narumiya's face would twist and turn into a look of grimace, and he pretended like he was about to throw up.

But the thing is, even he was not so sure why he was so keen on speaking with you. Everyone else always enjoyed talking with him, he just had tons of charisma, you know? But, you. You. You never smiled, genuinely, only grinned smugly whenever you somehow gained the upper hand. You didn't know the rules of baseball despite attending a school that regularly went to Koshien - and the rules wouldn't stick in your head no matter how many times he explained them to you.

And you. You always focused in class, wrote your notes diligently, raised your hand way too often. You would only ever look at him to glare if he was whispering too hard with some other (female) classmate. "Jealous?" His smug grin would ask you - and you would raise your hand, outing him to the teacher for disturbing class.

You never came to any of the baseball team's games. He always asked you, even invited you, but you always said that you weren't interested. Sure, Narumiya knew that you had your own club, in fact, he heard that you were one of the track team's most promising members. But everyone else found time to come to the games, at minimum the finals, why didn't you?

Seriously, who came to Inashiro and then claimed to not be interested in baseball?

He would occasionally see you running around the campus. The track field was high quality and had plenty of space, yet you would always warm up by running around the school grounds. Why, he did not know.

He did once ask you, but you just shrugged. "I enjoy watching the other clubs being hard at work." "Even the baseball team?" "No, not the baseball team."

You were strange.

Maybe that's why he always seemed to spot you in crowds. You were different - and not entirely in a bad way.

''(L/n), do you have any friends?''

Your brows furrowed - you did not like what he was implying. ''What kind of question is that, Narumiya? I have plenty of friends.'' ''Is that why you are always sitting alone and reading a book?'' Your eyes darted up from your book. Narumiya was sitting on the chair in front of your desk, facing you, and resting his head on your desk.

''Are you trying to imply that I'm a loner?'' ''Well, you are always alone, aren't you?'' ''No, Narumiya. I'm always with you.''

That afternoon, Inashiro's ace pitcher couldn't focus in practice. He was always surrounded by people, whether or not you were there. He hadn't even realized that he did spend a lot of time with you.

''Masa-san, I think she's a witch.'' He had announced in the bullpen. ''Hah? That's a new one.'' His catcher had answered, kind of curious to see what Narumiya had on his mind this time. ''Yes, she's a witch. And she's put a spell on me.''

The school year seemed to fly by. The baseball team went to Koshien in the summer, got defeated, and tried again in the fall. Yet they had lost in a game that was supposed to be a guaranteed win. And yet again, you were not there to watch. Narumiya tried to spot you in the bleachers, even though he knew that you wouldn't be there.

''You aren't bragging about your latest game.'' You pointed out, closing the lid of you lunchbox. ''We lost, (L/n). There's nothing to brag about.'' The blond whined, glaring at you for reminding him. ''Really? You didn't do even one good play?''

Narumiya thought back to the moment he had disagreed with his catcher - his first mistake. It all just went downhill from there. ''No, this time there really isn't anything to brag about.''

''Ah, is that so? So are you still crying yourself to sleep every night, then?'' Narumiya narrowed his eyes at your words. ''No! I've gotten over it already!''

He had never realized, but you actually knew quite a lot about him. ''I think she's a mind reader, Itsuki!'' ''Mei-san...you've been classmates with her for two years...'' ''She can read minds, I'm telling you!!''

Whatever helps him sleep at night.

You were now both third years. You found it hard to describe your relationship with Narumiya. On the outside it really did seem like you were friends. Because you did often eat lunch together, he would tell you about his baseball team and you would always find something to make a witty remark about.

But you did not have his phone number, you did not talk about what either of you did during the weekend, you never laughed at his jokes.

You weren't sure how to feel about him.

You never decided to be friends. And thus, you think that you aren't. Because Narumiya was out of reach for you, so far away.

Yet you found yourself reaching for him. Hanging onto the little thread he was handing to you, which he would eventually just cut down. Because you just weren't meant for each other.

''She was quiet today.'' Narumiya's expression was difficult to read, but he seemed distressed, at least in Itsuki's mind. You held such power over him, Itsuki was worried that they would one day lose a whole game because of you.

''Who was quiet?''

Narumiya was about to throw another pitch, but instead dropped the ball on the ground. He looked at you, his mouth wide open. ''(L-L-L/n)?!'' His hand trembled as he pointed at you.

''Yes, it's me. You look like you've seen a ghost, Narumiya.'' You were clearly fighting back a laugh. This was the first time Itsuki had ever seen you - and you did not match Narumiya's stories at all. You were beautiful.

Suddenly Itsuki understood why Narumiya paid so much attention to you.

''W-w-what are you doing here?!'' You had never shown any interest in baseball, yet here you are, standing on the field. You are wearing your track uniform - seems like you were in the middle of warming up.

''Oh, me?'' You pointed at yourself, acting like you were confused. ''Yes, you! Don't play dumb!'' At this point, Narumiya had stomped over to you - his pitching practice long forgotten.

''Oh, I'm here to see my little brother.''

''Huh?''

''You know. My little brother. The one who joined the team this year.''

''WHAT?''

Itsuki connected the dots. But for Narumiya, it seemed impossible. ''Who's your little brother?!'' ''...(L/n)? Do you not know your first years by name?'' ''No, I do not! Point them out for me!'' He grabbed your shoulders, turning you towards where all the first years were currently running.

You squinted your eyes trying to spot your younger brother in the crowd. When you finally did so, you raised your hand to point in that direction, and Narumiya desperately tried to follow your line of sight. ''Him, over there. The one with (hc) hair.'' ''That's one of our most promising rookies???!!!!!!''

He turned you around, shaking you around lightly. ''You claimed to know nothing about baseball! And now you are telling me that a super rookie is your little brother?!'' ''Did I claim that? Oops, I lied.'' You stuck your tongue out at him.

Narumiya's hands left your shoulders - slumping down. ''I can't believe you have lied to me all these years...''

You laughed. Oh, you laughed for a long time.

You had started the game of acting dumb because you enjoyed the reactions Narumiya gave you. And, because you wanted to kick him off his high horse - to you, it seemed like you were successful.

''I'm so hurt, (Y/n)!! How could you!'' Your laughter stopped. Did he not even notice that he called you by your first name? It was a stage you thought you could never reach.

''Mei-san, the coach will get angry at you if you don't get back to practice...'' The younger catcher tried to grab the ace's attention - who just continued sulking. Itsuki gave you an apologetic smile, but you just shook your head. You were used to Narumiya being like this.

Your little brother had noticed you and came to talk to you, but instead he was startled by their team's ace pitcher. ''You-! Why didn't you tell me that you were related to (Y/n)?!'' Narumiya had pointed at him, accusing him of withholding information. In truth, your little brother did not even know that you were ''friends'' with Narumiya Mei.

Sighing, you had flicked Narumiya's forehead. ''Don't drag my dear little brother into this. I was the one playing with you this whole time.'' Narumiya held his forehead, refusing to admit that it actually hurt, though his expression said otherwise.

''Then...as an apology, will you come to our next game?''

''I'd be happy to, Mei.''

[punsmaster69]

8/DEC/20XX

a deep breath, and i feel a sense of nostalgia.

weird nostalgia. wouldn't go back, but i still think fondly of what happened.

the crispness of the cold air in snowdin takes me back- and i'm already reminiscing about random memories.

point to almost any rock formation along the walls of this place, and papyrus can probably tell you exactly how he's climbed it.

kicking the snow with my slippers a little bit, i remember how he used to warn me about wearing 'em outside.

—-

"YOU'LL SLIP AND FALL IN THOSE!!"

"naahh. i'll be fine."

"......"

"SEE? EVEN GRILLBY AGREES IT'S A BAD IDEA!!"

—-

for the most part, i always was fine; just had to be careful around the ice.

fortunately, it's not an issue using shortcuts; really only ever slipping a few times.

—-

"I SAID THIS WOULD HAPPEN."

"you've slipped even in your boots."

"THAT WAS A ONE-OFF ACCIDENT!"

"so was this."

sliding me across the ice until we were close enough to the snow to stand again, papyrus lifted me onto my feet once more.

"I TOLD YOU THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA."

"you've gotta admit that over two weeks without slipping in these is pretty good."

"THERE'D HARDLY BE SLIPPING AT ALL IF YOU WOULD JUST PUT ON BETTER FOOTWEAR."

"these are way better."

"OBVIOUSLY NOT?! YOU 𝘑𝘜𝘚𝘛 SLIPPED!"

"but with snow boots, you have to tie 'em and whatnot."

"YOU DO THAT WITH MOST SHOES, SANS."

"not with slippers."

"YOU'RE GOING TO WEAR SLIPPERS ALL THE TIME.."

"JUST SO THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO TIE THEM?"

"yep."

"that's the plan."

"YOUR ABILITY TO CONSISTENTLY FIND THE LAZIEST ROUTE IN EVERY ASPECT OF LIFE CONFOUNDS ME, BROTHER."

"IT'S ALMOST IMPRESSIVE."

"thanks. that's the one thing i do put effort into."

"...BEING LAZY."

"it's hard work, doing this little."

—-

ahh.

back when new bad habits of mine still surprised him.

...speakin' of bad habits.

grillby's looks like it hasn't been touched since the day we took all the important stuff up.

the most one'll find in there now is a fine layer of dust only disturbed by me brushing against some stuff.

not that the jukebox ever worked before, but i'm pretty sure it wouldn't turn on if you tried at this point.

——

already knew the librarby was empty; they gave away all the books before leaving to the surface.

took the sciencey ones, myself.

wanted the joke book too, but a certain old lady got to it first.

officially, it is hers.

unofficially, the book keeps bouncing between being in either of our possession for months at a time.

it's gained a few pages over the years, a lined-paper section at the end with a lotta skeleton and snail puns.

think paps split the cookbooks with someone, and hoarded the puzzle books.

(not like anyone else was readin' those, anyway.)

there were a couple on monster history i'm almost certain i've seen frisk with a few times, so they must've gotten those.

as charming as this little place was, the new library's got way more selection.

sorry, not library.

still librarby.

they kept the name. too iconic to change it.

even if it had been changed, we'd all continue to call it the librarby anyway.

——

many of the folks who had shops down here have taken up that same role on the surface.

the two bunnies running the inn and shop moved somewhere closer to new home city for better business.

——

in the snow, i did what i'd done a million times in the past.

i parked myself at the foot of the door which separated snowdin from the ruins.

—-

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

she'd say.

"cash."

"Cash who?"

"no thanks, i'm more of a walnut guy."

and i'd heard her burst out into laughter from the other side.

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Hatch."

"hatch who?"

"Oh, bless you."

then she'd laughed at her own joke hard enough to be contagious.

"knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"canoe."

"Canoe who?"

"canoe come out here? i'm gettin' bonely."

she got a good kick out of that one, but her laughter had a tinge of sadness to it.

"...But, I am afraid not."

didn't expect any different of an answer.

always thinking it better not to ask quite why, i shrugged.

"one day, maybe."

"or not."

"you could just be mysterious door lady forever if you want."

"....."

"Knock, knock."

"who's there?"

"Peas."

"peas who?"

"Peas excuse my secretiveness. I know it can be a bit off-putting."

"everyone's got their secrets, 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 problem to me if you keep a few."

"Ha! I am glad that you are so 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘭 with it."

"It is a joy to hear your 𝘤𝘰𝘰𝘭 jokes every day!"

"nice to have someone with an a-𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳-able laugh to tell 'em to."

my slight regret about that pun immediately washed away upon hearing the laugh in question follow after it.

—-

....welp.

as fun as reminiscing has been, i've definitely left papyrus alone for far too long.

gotta spend at least a little time in the snow with him.

that's what we came back here for in the first place.

——

"WHEN DO YOU THINK IT'LL SNOW ON THE SURFACE?"

"it's supposed to get pretty cold soon, so probably not too long now."

"besides."

"if your desire for snow gets too awful bad, we'll just come down here again."

"WE SHOULD BRING FRIENDS WITH US NEXT TIME!"

"would be cool to re-visit the whole underground with everyone after all this time."

"OH!"

he sat straight up in the snow, scattering the powder around as he did so.

"YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO?"

"what's that?"

"COME, COME! QUICKLY!!"

——

from that very same spot we all first looked in awe at our new future, me and him watched the sun set.

golden light poured over everything; sun beams warm in contrast to the town we've left once again.

"WHEN WE FIRST MOVED OUT FOR GOOD, I REALLY THOUGHT I'D MISS IT MORE."

"THOUGH, I DIDN'T EXACTLY HAVE THAT FEELING OF TRAPPED-NESS ON THE SAME LEVEL EVERYONE ELSE SEEMED TO."

"IT'S HARD TO GET BORED WHEN YOU'RE THE MOST ENTERTAINING SKELETON AROUND!"

"WITH THE COOLEST BROTHER AROUND."

"aww."

"...MAYBE I DID FEEL TRAPPED A LITTLE.. BUT IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE."

"WE'RE ALL ON THE SURFACE TOGETHER, AND THAT 𝗜𝗦 WHAT MATTERS!"

when he turned to look at me, i couldn't tell whether his face was lit up more by the sun or the smile he had.

"I'M REALLY HAPPY HERE."

"me too."

[catbountry]

Does anybody else remember Pandora? Not the box, or the fictional planet where James Cameron's blue alien cat people live where there's a literal mineral called "unobtanium" that can only be harvested from that particular planet. My man literally called that shit "unobtanium," fucking portmanteau of "unobtainable" and the "-ium" suffix for newer elements. No. That has absolutely nothing to do with anything else I'm writing beyond this point. This is a post about music.

This is a post about the customizable internet radio station Pandora. And also it's going to briefly cover ClickRadio, it's going to talk about my experiences with YouTube Music, Spotify, my own iPod and how I find and listen to music, and how it's a core part of my creative process and I put a bunch of music references in pretty much all of my creative work. None of it being musical, by the way. I can barely carry a tune and I can't play any instruments more complicated than a kazoo.

It also got really long and rambly, look, I'm high, I'm sorry. You've been warned.

It's 2001. I'm in high school. My life looks like this drawing I made a few weeks ago.

Music is a big part of my life. The internet was a lot slower. It would take several minutes to download an .mp3 file of a song that was only about three and a half minutes long, so I would listen to the radio a lot. But the thing about listening tuning into radio is that it's not the internet. You can't pick which song to listen to whenever you want. If you want that, your best bet is to own the songs you want on their physical CD releases, or risk exposing your mom's computer to a million viruses. But in order to skip a song, you have to press a physical button to skip a song. And of course, if you're listening to the radio where you can discover new songs, you can't skip the latest Limp Bizkit or Disturbed track with the vain hope that maybe they'll play "One-Armed Scissor" by At The Drive-In or "Go With the Flow" by Queens of the Stone Age, or any single off of Kid A. Everything you hated the most, hated more than Britney Spears or the Backstreet Boys, was all lumped together under the formless "alternative rock" label, which weirdly included hip-hop artists like Eminem, House of Pain, Beastie Boys, Cypress Hill, Gorillaz and Outkast; all stuff that I guess radio stations looked at and thought "yeah, this can appeal to white people."

You know I heard Dynamite Hack's version of "Boyz N The Hood" before I ever heard Eazy-E's? That should be a crime. That should be considered a human right's violation. Fuck you, Dynamite Hack for introducing the entire world to the concept of ironic hipster covers hip-hop songs which led to the fucking white people with ukeleles versions of Tupac songs. I am so glad that we, as a society, have all come together against these dynamite hacks and decided this was cringe and something that belongs in the past.

But this isn't an essay on awful YouTube music trends of the early 2010's, this is listening to music in the internet age in the early 2000's.

In 2001, ClickRadio launched. It was a desktop application that allowed you to listen to radio stations via the internet, but it had something real radio stations did not; if a song like, say, Dynamite Hack's cover of "Boys N The Hood" came on, you could click a thumbs down button and it would let out this cartoonishly loud "thud" and then that station would never play that song for you again. And if they played a song you really liked? You could click a thumb's up button and it would play that song more often.

I cannot understate how fucking mindblowing an idea this was in the early 2000's. Yes, ClickRadio would slow down your computer as the Neopets Flash games you would play gringing for Neopoints to get a Halloween brush for your Lupe that you named after a member of your favorite band. Anybody else do that?

No? Just me? Okay then.

ClickRadio would quickly get enshittificated, within only about a year or two being filled with more and more unskippable ads. I went back to just loading up MP3s in Winamp and playing music that way by the time I was in college, but it was a pain having to listen to whatever song I had physically on my hard drive, or a few years later, going to YouTube to see if somebody uploaded a crusty version of a NoMeansNo song with a Spanish-speaking DJ speaking in the opening bits of the video. Not ideal.

But then Pandora showed up.

I don't remember where I first heard about Pandora, but after Napster, there were a bunch of music start-ups hoping to be legitimate in the eyes of artists and record labels. Clickradio was just a radio station. But Pandora... was an experiment of The Algorithm.

You see, Pandora started what is known as the Music Genome Project, a way of organizing music into hundreds of different subgenres across five large umbrella genres; Pop/Rock, Hip Hop/Electronica, Jazz, World Music and Classical. What Pandora did was use this as a way to allow users to craft their own custom radio stations. And not only would it play the stuff you liked, but it would be tailored to a seed artist or song; you put in Nirvana, you get a lot of 90's alt rock radio faire, but then maybe it plays Mudhoney. Maybe it plays Sonic Youth. Maybe it plays Melvins, and you like it. And when you give a thumbs up, you hear more and more artists in similar subgenres. And let's say you've been looking into obscure or underground music for years before you start using Pandora, and suddenly you're introduced to artists you never would have come across more organically. And buddy, you'd bet my Pandora station was a fucking hodgepodge of hundreds of seeds, which allowed me to discover highly influential /mu/ core bands like Swans, Animal Collective and Neutral Milk Hotel, but also bands that are so obscure that their Spotify listens are in the lower four digits at maximum and maybe a couple tens of thousands of views on YouTube. So many songs I found through Pandora are from bands that I very rarely hear a lot of people talk about, but they've made songs that have just lived in my brain for decades.

And for a couple years, I'd be listening to Pandora radio while writing up new TF2 fanfiction to terrorize TF2chan with. Certain songs would come up so often because I specifically bookmarked them. I didn't really know a lot about shoegaze before Pandora, but now I own a physical copy of all three of Slowdive's albums, and you fucking bet "When the Sun Hits" was in heavy rotation while I was writing Respawn of the Dead.

Yes, this was playing while I was writing out Respawn of the Dead, chapter by chapter. And so was "Beautiful Plateau" by Sonic Youth, "The Sound" by Swans, "Dead Flag Blues" by Godspeed You! Black Emperor and "End of the Line" by Murder By Death. And also this song by a band called The Clock Work Army, which split up and reformed into another band called Calico Horses, and I know this because I found this out while trying to track down a song that would play constantly on my Pandora station and it has, as of writing this sentence, 2,588 listens. And it might have more by the time you read this because I might just put it on loop because oh my god, I love this song so much, it hits so perfect for me, why don't more people know about this song?

It's not on YouTube, where I usually tend to listen to music, since I'll go through a rotation of songs that I call "work songs." I put on music while I write, and some songs are just so perfect that I can listen to them on loop with a very select number of songs that just never, ever get old for me. My neurons in my brain light up as though I was hearing it again for the first time.

Swans, Sigur Ros and The Dillinger Escape Plan are all artists who I found through Pandora that I've had the privilege to see live. By the time I was just discovering bands because I had a bunch of friends and mutuals with similar taste in music to mine, Pandora was slowly getting more and more ads. It was getting to the point where the free service would, if you were lucky, play only three or four songs before playing an ad. And when the length of those songs can span anywhere from less than three minutes for much of my beloved 80's and early 90's punk, to up to a half an hour for post-rock, noise, or ambient music. And the number of ads that played between songs had increased. What was just one every half an hour or so was now two to three for what could potentially be only after seven minutes of music. Pandora really doesn't like it if the music you like includes a lot of songs that are longer than an episode of The Simpsons.

I never hear anybody talk about Pandora anymore. Spotify is THE name in internet music streaming, and it favors listens of entire albums and other people's playlists. I don't like Spotify; sometimes I just want a specific song from a specific album. I could make a playlist of these "work songs," but I like when YouTube notices that I'm listening to music, and in the recommendeds, there's another song that I've listened to on repeat. Why yes, I would like you to play "Classical Homicide" by Dälek for me again. What's that? An hour loop of Deadmau5's "Professional Griefers" featuring Gerard Way? Yes please. I apologize for nothing. That dude's way better than Skrillex.

God, do you guys remember the Deadmau5/Skrillex shipping that was all over Tumblr in the early 2010's. I remember it. I remember it so hard. Everybody shipping them and the members of Daft Punk, posting Steam Powered Giraffe (blech) and Die Antwoord (lol) on my dashboard. In Die Antwoord's defense, they had some pretty funny music videos.

I got AdBlocker for YouTube, so the ads aren't a problem there. I mean, I could make a playlist for Spotify of my go-to songs, but I'd have to deal with ads. And there's something nice about YouTube's robots that sell my precious data to faceless corporations at least having the courtesy to be like "You look like you could use another stream of 'Anything (Viva!)' by Foetus. Or Scraping Foetus off the Wheel. Or... whatever, fuck it, it's J.G. Thirwell's band, okay? It's the guy that does the music for Venture Brothers."

Foetus was introduced to me through a friend but it was Pandora serving me up more of their music that made their albums "nail" and "Flow" ones that got the honor of Being Downloaded onto my iPod so I can Listen to This in my Car. I still use my iPod and even if there's albums that I haven't gone back to in years on there, I like having them there. I haven't listened to the soundtrack for Panty and Stocking in ages but having access to it so that I can FLY AWAY NOW, FLY AWAY NOW, FLY AWAAAYYYY on a long drive? I like having that option.

I still buy CDs so I can burn albums onto my iPod. My iPod doesn't have ads and switching between artists doesn't mean I have to flip through a CD binder. I also try to buy albums off of Bandcamp. Especially for smaller artists, or artists whose work I love enough to want to give them my money. I don't want to listen to ads. It throws off my workflow, shakes me out of the trance-like state that is pure, focused creativity. Whether it's working on comics or thinking about things I want to do in those comics, I'm usually listening to music. Sometimes the same album, hundreds of times over. I admit I haven't listened to that much King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, but I've listened to Nonagon Infinity front to back more times than I can count.

Nowadays it feels like I don't have a lot of friends who share my taste in music. I've so fully entrenched myself in fandom circles that I've been exposed to the average person's taste in music and I'm like "oh yeah, most people aren't as big of a fucking nerd about this as you are." You know how hard it is to get people who aren't music nerds to get into The Residents? Everybody I know that likes them already knew about them before we met, and people who had never heard of them before they met me usually find them deeply weird and never get fucking obsessed with them like I have. I own a physical copy of, not their original version of their album The King and Eye, which is an entire album of them covering Elvis that sounds like this, but the fucking remix of that album that does shit like this to their covers of Elvis songs. And you know what? I love both versions, but that remix of their cover of "Surrender" is a work song.

Listening to music is the only way I can guarantee that I'm actually working on something and not playing with my phone. I guess what I'm saying is... it sure would be nice if Pandora existed like it did back then right now.

Especially because I stopped cleaning up a page of my horrible Deltarune fan comic (MASSIVE Dead Dove warning, not even kidding, the entire story hinges on some very upsetting topics) just to write all this down and make sure there were links to every song in this essay. And like... I've even used the comic as a not-so-clandestine way into tricking them into listening to my music before. Whether it be directly namedropping bands and songs, writing about a specific character's taste in music and using that in the story somehow, or literally just making the title of one of my comic installments... this.

It is really good. 686 listens on YouTube. Absolutely criminal. And the example above? That's me not putting in hundreds of references into the comic and wondering if anybody else has noticed them.

I guess what I'm saying is that I am a huge music nerd, even though I always feel like I'm getting into artists super late (unless they're like Death Grips, but that was only after The Money Store had come out), but I fucking hate Spotify. I want more physical releases that can be preserved digitally, and I don't have the money to get into collecting vinyls as a hobby. All the vinyl I own is toys, and uh... I own a lot of those.

Thank you for reading through pure, uncut music autism mixed in with nostalgia and griping about capitalism because that's apparently where my head is at all the time when I'm not daydreaming my little stories or making up video essays in my head that will never be made. That's why I do stream of consciousness Tumblr essays full of minute details that absolutely are not necessary, but this is how my goddamn ADHD brain works. Now you know what it's like to be in my Discord server.

That post is, of course, pinned in the music channel.

As it should be.

... Fuck Pandora, I don't even fuck with it no more, I miss Grooveshark, weh, my playlist on that site was eight hours long before they shut it down in 2014. Devastated. I was in the middle of using it when it went offline.

Okay now I'm done for real, sorry.

[pointycorgiears]

Splinter

"Ouch!"

Mihawk raised his eyes to Talon who was frowning at his palm. He drew the pair of tweezers back and waited for the child to settle again before poking at his skin with the tiny instrument once more.

After another unsuccessful attempt, he sighed. "It seems this last shard of glass is too small for me to extract. It will have to remain until it comes out on its own."

"You're just going to leave it in there?" Talon asked, alarmed and confused.

"Yes. I can't grab on to it. It will come out in a few days. I will put a bandage around the area so it doesn't get disturbed."

Talon peered closely at his hand. "But, how will it come out?"

"Your body will push it out. New skin will grow around it and force it to move."

Talon stared at him,eyes wide. "Are you sure you can't take it out? What if you just cut it?"

"We are not going to cause anymore unnecessary damage. You will have to be patient."

"But I want it out now! All my other repairs are done! That's not fair!"

Mihawk blinked, minding his patience. "Then you should think twice about barreling into a glass window as a surprise attack next time there's a raid. You haven't yet learned Armament Haki to coat yourself. You are fortunate none got into your eyes."

Talon frowned as he turned his eyes away, glaring at the floor and grumbling "I don't need it...nothing can hurt me..."

"Except the smallest shard of glass has now given you a splinter. You need to learn to defend yourself against passive hazards and injuries."

Talon shaped his index finger on his other hand into a sharp blade. "Are you sure it won't come out?"

Mihawk quickly but gently placed an adhesive bandage over the splinter before the child could be tempted to act. "Not right now, but with time it will," he said softly. He took Talon's other hand in his own and the blade disappeared. "Things such as splinters are a fact of life. If we're not careful, they can become embedded in us, and even though most of the time they are just an annoyance, sometimes they can be painful. So you must be vigilant. You were made to be near invincible, but none of us can ever truly know what lies ahead in this vast world."

Mihawk squeezed Talon's hand, then let go and stood to begin putting the rest of the medical supplies away. Talon watched him, Mihawk's words turning over in his head. He began to wonder...

"Do you have a splinter, Dad?"

Mihawk paused in what he was doing and looked at the boy. "Not presently," he simply replied.

"Oh, I thought you had one of the painful ones. Did it come out already?"

Mihawk raised his brow. "I haven't been unlucky enough to receive one in a very long while. Why do you ask, Talon?"

"Well, you've been frowning a lot lately. Like something is hurting you?"

Silence, as Mihawk shut the first aid kit and a realization dawned on him. So, he hadn't been concealing his emotions over the past few days as well as he thought.

"I'm sorry if I alarmed you, Talon," he sighed, kneeling back down in front of the child and gazing at him softly. "There was something in the newspaper the other day that...upset me, and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind."

Talon perked up. "What was it? Was someone captured? Did something bad happen!?"

Mihawk raised his hand in a calming manner and taking the child's again. "No, no. Nothing bad has happened. There was an article recently that mentioned a name I hadn't heard in a very long time. Someone I thought I would never see again."

"Who was it? Was it someone mean to you?"

"No, quite the opposite actually." Mihawk stared at the Seraphim boy, his clone. His son. They were a small family, but one nonetheless. Talon deserved to know about the rest of his family history. "I think it's time I told you about your uncle."

~~~~

Mihawk guided Talon to the common room in the main tent. The others were currently out and about, thankfully leaving the two of them alone in the large space. Mihawk sat on the green sofa, rummaging through a stack of newspapers on the stand next to it, and then inviting Talon to come sit next to him. Talon squished himself into Mihawk's side, excited to see what his father had to show him. Mihawk found the days old paper he was searching for and flipped to page that had sent him reeling with emotion a few mornings ago.

"This here," Mihawk pointed to an article at the bottom of the page that highlighted an art festival. Several different names were in bold letters. It was small, barely taking up four inches of space in the corner, but Talon recognized one of the names immediately.

"Dracule Harrier," Talon read aloud without prompt from Mihawk, "graciously honored at the Diamond Moon Festival for his smithing skills and supreme craftsmanship of the sword, Kingfisher, Dracule's personal weapon."

Talon then peered up at Mihawk. "That guy is your brother?"

Mihawk solemnly nodded. "Yes."

"How come I have no data about him?"

Mihawk sighed. "The last time I saw my brother was when we were just children. My parents took him away with them when they abandoned me, and I grew up with your Grandma Moro instead. I wasn't sure if he was even still alive, so I knew nothing about him. The government had no reason to believe he even existed and no need to gather information about him. Their focus was solely on me."

Talon tilted his head, confused. "So then, this is the first time you've read about him? Why did it make you upset? I thought he was nice to you?"

Mihawk hung his arm around Talon's shoulders and squeezed him closer. "He was very nice to me. I had two older siblings, who were mean to me all the time. They didn't like me. They thought I was cursed because of my eyes. However, my little brother, Harri-," Mihawk had to pause as he said the name aloud, the first time he'd done so in years, and cleared his throat, "Harrier was my only friend. We would play together and pretend to sword fight. He always shared his food and treats with me. He made sure I wouldn't get in trouble with my parents so they wouldn't be mad at me. He was a very good little brother."

"Why did they all leave you?"

"They didn't want me," Mihawk said quietly, his yellow eyes casting downward. "They did not like my eyes, and they refused to love me because of it. Except for Harrier. So they took him away from me."

"Do you miss him?"

Mihawk tilted his head, gazing at Talon. If anyone else had ever asked him that question, he would deny even knowing who they were talking about and how dare they make such sentimental assumptions about his well-kept emotions. Looking at Talon was akin to looking in a mirror though, and he couldn't hide from himself. "Yes. I do."

"Is that why you were upset?"

"...I suppose so."

Talon leaned into his side, wrapping his wings around Mihawk's midsection. "I miss my brothers and sisters too."

This was certainly a different kind of bandage, wrapped in the boy's arms and wings.

Talon lifted his head to look at his father again. "Does this mean you are going to go find him? Can I come with you?"

Mihawk shook his head, but gave a soft smile. "I do not know if that is possible, but...if I so decide to make that journey someday, I will absolutely have you by my side."

"I want to meet him! He has his own sword, so he must be good like you!"

"I'm sure he would be delighted to meet you too." Mihawk squeezed him once more, then motioned for Talon to stand. "However, right now, it's best you go get ready for bed. I will be there soon, after I find the others and lock up this place for the night."

"Okay, Dad!" Talon hopped off the couch and scampered down the staircase, muttering about how he can't wait to meet his newfound uncle.

"Brush your teeth!" Mihawk called after him as he also stood, the newspaper still in hand. Before he set the paper back on the stand, his gaze lingered on his long lost brother's name, and then fell on the title of Harrier's sword.

Kingfisher.

There was something he did not reveal to Talon, so as not to excite the boy, or worry him. When they were still together, Mihawk and his brother made it a point to look out for each other. They both knew the terrible things their parents and siblings were capable of, mostly at Mihawk's expense. So they developed their own way of communicating while under the scrutiny and oppression of their parents. They created hand signals and code words that only the two of them knew. Harrier had always been a secretive child, trusting only Mihawk with certain information since the time he learned to talk.

Even though he had lost track of his sibling after being abandoned, it wasn't a stretch for Mihawk to assume that specific personality trait had never changed.

It had been years. Not once had his brother's name appeared in papers, documents, or word of mouth since they'd been separated. Until now. And it was so blatant. Printed in bold, yet small enough that it was still hiding in plain sight. Then there was the name next to it. The name that once told the young Mihawk that his brother needed to hide from mom and dad for awhile. He could hear Harrier's then tiny voice whispering in his ear, "Brother, I want to go see the kingfishers at the river today."

Brother, I need help.

Mihawk set the paper down. His frown returned as Harrier's old words cut him like a shard that was stuck in his memory.

His brother was trying to reach out to him.

[samnia]

I found out you write for hxh 🥺💕

The way you write them feels very nice and Canon.

I wonder can I get a scenario about illumi, ending the life of his first ever friend (he was a teenager and he met the reader SOMEHOW and they formed a secret and forbidden friendship) because his mother kikyo gaslighted him that the reader is a pest to his life etc..

I wonder how much this will have impact on him :)

Illumi opened the door. Zeno sat in the dimly lit chamber, and the decorations never failed to disturb Illumi, despite all the horrid things he's seen. Zeno's eyes shot up to his direction, then examined him. Illumi felt every organ in him tighten up. "You do understand why you're here, correct?" Zeno asked, pouring another cup on tea before sipping it,"Yes, grandfather." He replied. The older man pointed to a seat next to him, a simple 'sit'. Illumi did as he was told and sat, plenty of things ran through his mind, like a childish wish hoping that it was about his low performances while training, not how he can't help but hang out with a certain someone.

"You can't seem to listen, I suppose. As your parents have said, today and tomorrow will be the most crucial times of your life if I'm sincere." He said before soothing out his beard. Illumi poured himself a cup of tea, too. He drank some. The first thing he noticed was that it contained magnolia flowers and how it was your favorite. How bad have you screwed his brain? Zeno coughed, gaining Illumi's attention back. "Illumi, I'm not going to say names, but get rid of them. Kikyo will be accompanying you to make sure of it." Zeno informed, before standing up and walking out the room. Illumi's eyes widen, surely that was too much. The door opened again, and he heard shuffling and then heels clacking, His mother made herself known by dusting her maroon ballgown and fixing the single feather on her hat.

Kikyo firmly touched his shoulder. He looked at and noticed she was grinning out of pure delight. "I only want the best you. I say it's time to solve your problem." She chimed. You'd be in the woods as usual, telling Illumi about the newest gossip in your town. If you were lucky enough, Illumi would be so interested that he'd go easedropping with you, even though it'd be borderline stalking. You stood by a tree, trying to collect and break open the nuts. When illumi walked behind you, a change in the air was noticeable. You turnt around slowly, "Illumi, nice haircut. What took you so long?" You asked. "Nothing." He responded, Illumi looked back. Kikyo was hiding in the trees, watching him. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Can you crack these open?"

You tossed it to Illumi. He smiled for a bit. "I suppose you're not trying to break more teeth," He snagged before crushing it with his hand. The shell fell off, and he handed it to you. The ground shook, a sign from his mother to make it quick. You gave another one to illumi. Now, he extends his arm as if throwing something. "I was like fourteen. That baby tooth had to go!" You reasoned. You imbecile. Why expose how long you've been friends? But then again, how would you know. He aimed and threw it toward you at lighting speed. While trying duck, it went straight throught and your heart. Blood gushed out of you before hitting the ground. His mother came from out the shadows. She pressed a button on her communication device. "Inform the bulters that Mike will be given a small treat."

[So, if you don't understand, Illumi used the walnut to spike Y/n in the head, leading to their ultimate death. And then the corpse is then fed to Mike, the guard dog. This takes place when Illumi is about sixteen (hence, illumi has short hair), when the family discovers Alluka has a entity, Nanika within her.

Requests are always welcomed!

[iisasarcasticlittleshite]

hello, I've never really made a fic request before, so please feel free to disregard this if it isn't something you feel comfortable writing.

A dear pet passed today, and I was wondering if I could request angst+comfort of the obey me brothers comforting gn mc through a similar situation? Specifically, Satan, if all 7 is too many, thank you.

I'm so sorry for your loss, sadly, I know the feeling.

I'm honoured that you decided to send me this ask, and I'll do my absolute best for you. I ended up having time for Satan, Lucifer and Asmo, of you wanted a part 2, let me know.

Satan found you curled up under their covers, where you'd been for hours now.

No one had the heart to disturb you, not after such a dear thing crossed the rainbow bridge.

Satan had watched his human smile and kiss their beloved pet goodbye, watched your eyes overflow with tears, and now, here you lie, curled up in hollow warmth in a fruitless attempt to chase away the pain in your heart.

You didn't look up as he sat beside you, his back brushing your legs.

Satan had to flounder for words, ironic, since he read so many, but all the words in all the worlds and their many languages could not express what he wanted to say.

Nothing could tell you how much he hated seeing you in pain, how much he wishes he could take it all away and bring back what you missed most.

But he can't, he can't say it, so he sits beside you until your tears stop flowing freely, until you wordlessly lift the duvet for him.

Satan slides in beside you, opening his arms to let you sink into his warmth as a fresh wave of tears flooded your eyes. He's never seen you cry so openly, and he doesn't want to ever see that pain on your face again.

But...something about him feels privileged, to be the one you curl into and hold onto as the tears finally begin to dry.

"You gave them the best life, and did all you could." He whispered, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head. "You loved them."

"I know." You croaked, curling your hands in the softness of his jumper, letting him tangle your legs together. Satan isn't usually the cuddler, far from it, but right now, you press yourself close, and he lets you, holds you. "Still hurts."

The demon ran his fingers through your hair, easing you into restfulness. "This too shall pass, one day, you'll remember the joy again."

You haven't left Lucifer's side since it happened, following him around, a shadow of your former self.

You trail the eldest demon with your fingers hooked into his clothes somehow, a finger caught in his pocket, your fist curled in his cloak, wherever you can reach that won't hinder him during his day.

The other brothers have done their best to put smiles back on your face, but that hasn't stopped you from shadowing Lucifer and his steadfast, comforting presence everywhere he goes.

You don't pay attention to where you've been throughout the day, it hardly seems to matter anymore. The ache in your chest is overwhelming and leaves you feeling weak to the world.

As always in your times of weakness, Lucifer was there.

The eldest had a world of responsibilities around him, and has no idea how to comfort you, as his brothers do, and still, you follow him helplessly, curling into his side when he sits down at him, resting your head on his shoulder is he stands still long enough.

Lucifer lets you, partly because it keeps you from slipping into lethargy, and also...because he doesn't want you to leave.

The smiles his brothers manage to get from you don't reach your eyes, but the quiet peace on your face when you fell asleep on his shoulder during a meeting, that was sincere.

In the end, Lucifer has no idea how to comfort you, other than to just be there when you need him.

Even after those smiles start creeping into your eyes, when your laugh can once again be heard in the House of Lamentation, Lucifer is never far when you need him.

"Hey, stop." Asmodeus murmured, gently catching your wrist in his hand to stop your frantic scribbling.

It's been days, and you haven't so much as shed a tear. Quite the opposite, your face has been a hard mask of blank, as unmoving as the marble statues of RAD.

The brothers gave you your space, believing you needed to process, but Asmo's watched you not give yourself time to grieve, throw yourself into your work like your life depended on it, and he can't stand to watch the bags under your eyes get any darker.

The face he loved looks up at him, the lights in your eyes dimmed with grief, lips pressed into a firm line.

"I need to finish this, Asmo."

The demon pushed your chair away from your desk, placing himself firmly between you and your notebook. He sat on your desk and pulled you back toward him. "No, you don't, my love. You need to rest, please."

"I'm fine-"

"Hun, please." He looked deep into your eyes, and tears flooded his as he saw the heartbreak there, muffled and strangled beneath your strength of will. "You are so strong, so so strong, don't use that against yourself, please. Don't hurt yourself, my love."

You watched his eyes grow glassy, watched the tears wet his perfect lashes, and your heart would be silenced no longer.

You buried your face in his chest, wrapped your arms around his waist as both of your wept for the days you felt like your couldn't.

Asmo held you, trapped your knees between his legs and cried into your hair as you cried into his shirt. For once, he doesn't care what it looks like, he doesn't care about stains. You need to feel, and if that means you need him to cry with you, he'll cry 'till his eyes dry up.

[pinkrangermemes]

lyrics from some of my favorite FNAF songs

"So many years, so many dark memories."

"Alone and afraid for, oh, so long, wondering: what did we do wrong?"

"I feel sick to my stomach, or am I sick in the head?"

"You are the answer the prayers whispered in the dark."

"Can you repair a broken heart?"

"Just do as you're told and you'll be fine."

"It only stings for a moment, but it's worth all the pain."

"I'm sure you've heard disturbing rumors how things in the night go bumpin'."

"Beware nightmares, they come to life."

"You'll come to realize evil doesn't die."

"I hate this place. We should burn it, man!"

"You didn't know what you were getting into."

"There's a figure in the hall."

"Stay calm. Stay calm."

"That's fine. I'm fine."

"Something's crawling through the vent."

"They just may drive me crazy."

"I can see their second skin."

"In the end there's only me."

"Listen close. Follow my instructions."

"He was the one that made us."

"You'll be the one to save us."

"Are you feeling nervous?"

"His voice means to deceive you."

"My voice just wants to lead you."

"Did we deserve this?"

"Something's creeping closer."

"There's no one left to find you."

"I was left behind."

"I was never all that kind."

"We are just moments away from letting your worst nightmares come out to play."

"Do you even have a clue?"

"Seems you're just a oblivious."

"I'm just feeling like I'm falling down."

"There's a place in the dark horror stories go to hide."

"You can pretend it's make - believe inside your head."

"This nightmare is as real as it gets."

"It's where fear comes to life."

"Monsters in the dark won't show you no restraint."

"Behind friendly eyes, there's a face that hides coming for your life."

"Can you reach the end with your mind unscathed?"

"Will you live to see the light?"

"Can you outrun your demise?"

"How can we ever be free, when our prison is skin deep?"

"Listen to the voice keeping you alive."

"We could go if we looked like you."

"That pain comes with me to my grave."

"Five nights until I descend, relapse and I'm spiraling again."

"I can't breathe and there's nowhere left to hide."

"You try to cover up the hate in you and bury all your shame."

"Nothing personal, my dear, don't be so blind."

"We had some fun but I can't stand those ugly lies."

"The last true to way to prove myself and make everything right."

"Try your best to hang on to sanity."

"We can walk you through our dark fantasy."

"We can teach you to laugh at tragedy."

"What have I done to deserve this damnation?"

"You might look at me and think you're going crazy."

"I lost it long ago. You're not alone, baby."

"There is no way out of the nightmare if you never awake."

"The only thing I can remember is the name _____."

"Truth be told, you are the most annoying, little brat."

"Everywhere you go, I will catch you."

"So listen closely if you want to make it through the night."

"You cannot make it through this night without my help."

"Put your trust in me. You have no one else."

"I feel like you are not trusting me enough."