#but this one certainly doesn't and also it helps me do expressions despite the fact that lenopans also have mouths i can use to express wit

[whatudottu]

That moment when your combined power of dyslexia and Engrish lead you to love! Or well technically they both went in blind dating so they already had some expectation to fall for each other lmao-!

This is inspired by the time I kept saying lenopan instead of loboan for my oc to which I just ended up making him a lenopan loboan hybrid, these just so happen to be his parents :P

they're not currently important enough to have a name but a very far future sequel below let me introduce to you the lead singer of Thing/s Jed recounting this tale to keyboardist manic pixie nightmare sparkle dog cat girl citrakayah Rixie who's thinking that Jed is a puppy made of sludge-

[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 ? 👀

[duskdog]

So with Cass going to her happy place (that is, Steph) one more time, and all the analysis around it right now, I thought it might also be good to talk about Steph's vision of Cass.

As far as I recall, it only happened once -- in Batgirl (2000) #26 -- and it was a very mixed portrayal. For context, I think it's important to remember that this is still very early in their relationship -- this is only the fourth interaction we've actually seen on-panel, in fact, and the first was barely an interaction at all.

And yet it seems that Steph has already embraced Cass in a way that Cass has not yet embraced Steph. In their third interaction, Cass has accidentally almost killed Shadow Thief, and Steph helps her resuscitate him and then immediately agrees not to tell Oracle about what happened. No reservation whatsoever -- a crying, guilty, terrified Cass doesn't even manage to find the words to ask exactly what she wants before Steph understands and gives it to her.

And here, in their fourth interaction, Cass doesn't even know it's occurring. She's recovering from her fight to the death with Shiva, and is asleep for the entirely of the issue. But Steph is extremely concerned about her (moreso than Babs, but to be fair to Babs, she has a lot more experience with how Cass is and is probably just relieved that she's actually resting), despite the fact that they really barely know each other at this point.

Steph goes out to fight Shiva's disciple in Cass's stead, because Cass is still indisposed. She's gung-ho at the start, but upon seeing her opponent, gets cold feet and starts to lose faith in herself. Here's where the Cass-vision starts.

Look at Imaginary Cass hyping her up. She's even smiling under the mask, which isn't something Steph has ever seen her do on-panel. Note how articulate Cass is. At this point in her development, Cass didn't communicate this way. She didn't use long sentences, smoothly strung together, with anyone, and she didn't use them with Steph in particular. In fact, here's the extent of what Cass has said to Steph directly on-panel so far, in their entire relationship: Become faster. Read it. (multiple times) No. (multiple times) When? Quiet. (multiple times) Go home. Then we wait. You take the train. I take the car. Kinsey is here. Get down. The money. Trade? Why? Let's go. Help me. And of course, the above interaction about Shadow Thief. Obviously, not only does Actual Cass have very little to say to Steph, she certainly doesn't have anything encouraging to say! She's outright dismissive of her, at best. And that's just how Cass is as this point in her development -- her speech abilities are still limited, her social development is stunted, and she's just not a cuddly person in general. Combat, and getting the job done, are of utmost importance to her. She's not intentionally cruel, she's just very blunt and calls it like she sees it, and she's like that with pretty much everyone. So we have Imaginary Cass, speaking and behaving in a very un-Cass-like manner... and Steph actually having a conversation with this imaginary Cass out loud. It's a little weird, but it's very in-character for Steph, who is extremely talkative and thrives on interaction. Babbling seems to be an anxiety response for her. She already has a tendency to narrate her own experiences via her diary, so I think it's not a stretch to say that she might try to talk through her own anxiety with herself by imagining that self-conversation being with Cass instead. This differs from Cass's hallucinations in that Steph isn't dead, dying, or drugged. She's wide awake, and she seems to know that Cass is imaginary, because she even recognizes the fact that Cass doesn't normally speak this way to her. Imaginary Cass is just a vehicle for expressing what she's trying to tell herself -- much like Steph will later be a vehicle for Cass to express her feelings to herself in Batgirl (2024) #5. But here we are later, when Steph begins to feel like she's failing:

Imaginary Cass turns disparaging, taunting her, saying all the things that Steph clearly feels about herself: she's not good enough, they were wrong to put their faith in her, she's failed, she's going to die, and worse -- other people are going to die because of her failure, too. (It's worth noting that, in retrospect, this ends up sounding like an entirely unintentional foreshadowing of War Games.) This makes Steph mad (seriously, look how angry her silly mask blob eyes are) and motivates her to ultimately win the battle. Steph gets a lot of motivation from spite, and in this case it's probably helpful that the disparagement is seeming to come from "someone else" (namely imaginary Cass) instead of from herself. It's easier to spite other people than to spite yourself. It's easier to be motivated to prove them wrong. Again, Cass is a vehicle for Steph's internal monologue -- it becomes a dialogue instead, in a way that is helpful to her in the end.

Then there's one more vision:

Look at Steph's face. Just for an instant, she's so happy. She clearly admires Cass, and has expressed it on multiple occasions ever since they met. She's in awe. And she desperately needs someone to believe in her, and be proud of her. If Batgirl, the girl who beat Lady Shiva, could be proud of her, then wouldn't that mean the world?

But it's not to be.

At least not yet.

[hufflezki]

helloooo! could you write for 3rd-4th year harry and reader going on a date in hogsmeade? but they're actually just stealing food under the invisibility cloak and eating it in a secluded area LOLOL thankyuuu<3

[ 🌺 ᝰ.ᐟ ] thanks for requesting lovely!!

-> harry potter x gn!reader, word count: 742

　　“Where are you off to now?”

Hermione reveals herself—standing in the doorway of Harry’s dorm—asking a very obvious question, though her tone suggests that she might already know the answer. This was the second time she had caught Harry in the middle of sneaking out to see you. Of course, she had pieced the puzzle—that is the two of you dating—long ago. Even before the others did. It wasn't that hard to figure out, especially not when the both of you were indiscreetly holding hands under the table whenever you were together.

And it certainly wasn't hard to figure out the fact that Harry has been sneaking you both to Hogsmeade, using his invisibility cloak. But in his defense, he was only making do with what he has. All thanks to his aunt and uncle for not signing his consent letter.

“You know where.” Harry responds easily, his back turned towards Hermione still, as he picks up his book bag along with his invisibility cloak, putting it around him—immediately hiding himself. She shakes her head, which was more out of amusement if anything.

　　“Well, have fun with your date.”

　　“I’ll keep that in mind.”

And he did. After seeing you waiting in the courtyard, he immediately swooped you in his arms—and inside the invisibility cloak. On the way to Hogsmeade, you hear him ask. “So where should we go to this time?” And, honestly, no matter how many options you had—the two of you always seem to end up in the same place.

　　“Three Broomsticks?”

“Good one.” Harry jests, making you chuckle. Yet again, he couldn't really think of anywhere else to go, which is why he leaves most of the decision making to you.

“Do you ever think Madam Rosmerta notices?” He adds, as you enter Hogsmeade. You shrug, a part of you thinks she does but doesn't give you two much trouble for it. Hagrid does hang out there pretty often. “Maybe. But I don't think she pays much mind.” Harry smiles at your response, squeezing your hand in agreement.

Your dates in Hogsmeade were pretty interesting. Seeing as Harry isn't supposed to be in here, you had to sneak into shops. And while it was unethical, the two of you still end up leaving with food—that definitely aren't yours—in your hands. But, hey, sometimes you leave some little tips when you can remember.

And before the sun could set, you share whatever snacks you both have in a quiet and secluded area, overlooking the town.

Though, sometimes Harry worries that you might not be as pleased as you let on. There’s been several times where he had to apologize for not being able to take you to a proper date. And, well, you had to reassure him that you didn't really mind. If anything, it feels like he really cares, putting so much effort just to accompany you to Hogsmeade. Its not everyday you get treated like such.

“Thanks for putting up with me.” You shake your head, leaning against his shoulder. And Harry finds your hand once again, liking the way they fit perfectly with his. “You’re acting as if you forced me to be here.” He can't help but laugh, now that you put it that way, it does sound a bit ridiculous.

　　“You know I’d do anything you ask me to, right?”

　　“Mhm, I know that. And its a tad bit worrying.”

“Then, I guess, you’d also know that if you ever want to go on those fancy dates, I will take you to one.” And you look at him as if he’s said something ridiculous, but Harry’s expression is anything but kidding.

“I’d let you take me anywhere, and I would still consider it a date.” You squeeze his hand, but he doesn't look near convinced. Letting go of him, you turn and cup his face. “Listen, Harry, I really don't mind where you take me, okay? And its a bit cheesy, I know, but I enjoy them because you’re there.” Despite how cliché it may be, those were the exact words Harry needed to hear.

Feeling the sudden surge of emotions, he leans closer to kiss you, catching you off guard at first. But when you do kiss him back its sweet and short, sending flutters to your chest.

　　“I don't think we need to stop by Honeydukes anymore.”

　　“Harry, don't.”

　　“I’m just saying, too much sweets isn't good for us.”

golden trio masterlist ꩜ .ᐟ

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"THAT'S IT BABY"

I wrote another story with Dave 😉

I hope you like it!

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

You didn't know exactly how you had ended up in the library with the class nerd, listening to him as he talked about fish.

You read that right, yes.

Despite everything you had heard about him and his obsession with superheroes, you didn't know that his other big interest was the ocean.

You listened to him for a couple of minutes, which later turned into hours and you… just watched him without understanding half of the things he was saying, but he was so handsome that it was impossible for you to look away.

He of course wasn't aware of his attractiveness, which you didn't understand because, if you had his looks you would certainly wake up with some self-esteem in the mornings. You focused on him as he continued to explain:

-Puffer fish don't look like that when they are in their habitat - he pointed to the drawing in the book resting on the table in front of them - this is a lie. Biologists believe that the puffer fish developed its famous ability to inflate itself because its swimming style is slow and clumsy. That makes them vulnerable to predators. Instead of escaping, the puffer fish uses its elastic stomach and its ability to quickly ingest large amounts of water (and even air if necessary) to turn itself into an almost incredible ball that doubles its normal size several times. Some species also have spines on their skin to avoid being eaten –he pointed at the image– this one doesn’t have spines, therefore the information in this book is not correct

-You should file a complaint to the authors then –you smiled amused, seeing how he nodded his head-

-Maybe I will –he murmured shyly– sorry, I’m getting off track…

-It’s okay –you assured– you’re very cute when you talk about what you like –you added, making him blush slightly–

-I didn’t expect that –he whispered– especially when I’ve been talking about sea creatures for the last half hour. W-what do you m-mean by cute? –he questioned, his voice shaking as he spoke due to nerves-

-You concentrate a lot –you shrugged- I don't know, I find it adorable

-I guess I do –he mused out loud- I can't help it, the ocean is just really cool –he smiled shyly- Well, it's a lot more than just the ocean, but that's my new hyper fixation for now –he said- Do you want to know a strange fact? I was just watching a documentary…

-Don't lie to me –you murmured, he shook his head negatively-

-I never do –he assured you while frowning- Are you trying to make fun of me, or something?

-No –you said innocently, seeing the blush on his cheeks-

-If you're doing it –Dave retorted- you tell me that I'm adorable and that you like my smile, and you're looking at me with those huge eyes a-a-a-a-a-you do all that w-when you're trying to make fun of me –he said making you smile- all that while you slowly get closer to my face Your face was close to his, not enough for you to breathe the same air, but enough for him to be aware of your sudden closeness.

-Y-yes like that –he stammered- You're just proving what I said before! –he exclaimed nervously-

-You're red –you observed, and when you said it you swore that his face lit up even more-

-Of course I am! What other color would I be if not? Blue? -he questioned trying not to make eye contact- I-I c-can't h-help it, y-you, I-I Ugh! -he said tired of his own babbling- anyway it doesn't matter -he murmured- you're so…

-You're very adorable, Dave -you repeated-

-Stop saying that! -he exclaimed looking at you- you don't even know what you're doing, you're just playing with me. You don't understand! -he murmured- I-I would explain it to you i-if I could, but you know I'm not good at expressing myself -he said, you nodded with understanding- although I'll try to do it in a way that we both can understand -he whispered- wait, what am I doing? No, I won't -he suddenly changed his mind- You're doing this to have fun at my expense!

-You said you would explain it -you remembered- now you have to do it

-God! You're so stubborn… -he muttered, tilting his head for a moment- okay wait, give me a second to think

-I got it! -he exclaimed- you know the anglerfish, right? Well, most of the photos we see are of the female anglerfish -he said- in this situation it would be you

You couldn't help it, you laughed. The fact that he was comparing you to a fish was hilarious to say the least.

-Don't laugh! -he complained- I'm trying, besides this is what you wanted

-You're also adorable when you get frustrated -you teased him, making him shake his head-

-It's not -he murmured- let him continue -he asked, you nodded, willing to listen to what he had to say- the male anglerfish is smaller than the female -he stopped- let's say that's me. M-maybe, m-maybe. The female has all these good qualities, sharp teeth, big eyes, you know, all the good stuff and the male is just… there, it's like he's just an accessory to the female, so much so that when the male anglerfish is… he takes his mate, prevents the female from performing any functions other than reproductive, he's just t-there to b-breed

He watched you for a moment before letting out a nervous laugh

-You're probably lost, this isn't the best way to explain it, the truth -he said, as if he were apologizing- is that you're so cool, and funny, a-and every time you tease me I feel small and embarrassed and it makes me feel clumsy when I just want to…

-Say it -you whispered, watching him closely-

-Do I have to? –he questioned, you nodded- okay –he rubbed his eyes with his index finger under his glasses before confessing- I want to fuck you –he murmured, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold ran through you, he continued talking- every time you tell me I'm adorable, I just want to kneel down and let you take me –he whispered- it makes me so horny when you mess with me, which makes me want you to use me, drain me and let me fill you, and…

You interrupted him by placing your lips on his. A murmur escaped his lips as you kissed him. You felt the bridge of his glasses press against your nose, but you didn't care, you just wanted to keep kissing him, and for him to do it too.

-Don't play with me like that - he complained with a trembling voice - don't kiss me unless you really want to, please…

This time the kiss was more intense, you moved your lips more intensely against his, making him gasp into your mouth.

-You have to be quiet - you reminded him given the place where you were-

-I will - he assured - but please, keep kissing me

And that's what you did. With each kiss his breathing was becoming more and more erratic.

His lips moved against yours with inexperience, but thanks to your instructions he was getting better at it, so soon you were also sighing against his lips.

-Touch me - he gasped looking at you in desperation - put your hands on my chest, please, do something - he murmured nervously - God, you're going to drive me crazy

You let out an amused giggle, to which he responded by blushing again.

-Don't laugh! I'm sensitive! -He whispered- I've wanted this for so long that I can't help it- he added, looking at you intensely- the way you were kissing me makes it so I can't think clearly- he confessed, making you smile before kissing him again-

A murmur escaped from between his lips when you did it again. You lightly tugged at his lower lip between your teeth, making him moan against your mouth.

-T-this is t-too much - he whispered, separating himself for a moment- I-I need to be inside you, fuck - he growled, making you shudder at the rawness of his words, since you would have never expected something like this from him- I want to keep touching you like this while I pump my fucking seed inside you, but at the same time I want to taste you - he confessed - I'm dying to do it, you have no idea how much… - He kissed you - I just want to adore you - kiss - I want you to use me - kiss - I can't concentrate on kissing you and talking at the same time - he kissed you again - I just need you to know - kiss - how much I need you - he whispered - please let me taste you - he begged, his big blue eyes boring into yours, as if he were a lost puppy - please…

You nodded shakily and he got on his knees in front of you. You almost moaned when he did it, because who would have expected that the class nerd was actually so needy?

His fingers reached the bottom of your skirt, making you shiver at the touch of his fingers.

“Can I lift it?” he asked kindly, you nodded again.

You leaned against the table behind you when his fingers tangled in the waistband of your panties and slowly pulled them down your legs until they were on the floor at your feet.

“You're already very wet,” he observed, looking at you intently. “Maybe you want this as much as I do, after all,” he murmured, not quite believing it. “Do you need me, is that it?” he questioned. “Do you need my mouth?”

“Yes, I need it,” you affirmed desperately. “Please, Dave, please…”

A squeal came from between your mouth when he kissed your sensitive lips.

His tongue moved expertly over them, leading you to think that he had watched a lot of porn and youtube tutorials to know how to do it that way.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, leaving a kiss dangerously close to your knot of nerves, “you are so hot against my mouth…” he murmured. You brought your hands to his hair and tugged at the curly locks when he pulled your clit between his teeth, while kissing it. A gasp left his lips, as he did not expect the sudden tug.

He looked up at you, while a half-smile spread across his lips.

“It’s okay, calm down,” he whispered. “I-I like it,” he confessed. “Can you keep doing it, please?” he added, you nodded. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, making you gasp.

You moved your hips against his face, earning an affirmation from him.

-That's it, move against my tongue - he ordered softly - that's what I'm here to do, darling.

"I feel good," he murmured, kissing the inside of your thighs.

His kisses were increasing in intensity at the same time as his touches, so it didn't take you long to feel that pressure in your lower abdomen, which indicated that the limit of your pleasure was quickly approaching.

"Am I doing it right?" he asked, looking at you carefully.

"You're doing very well, Dave," you moaned. "You're a good boy."

"I'm your good boy," he repeated as if it were a mantra. "Tease me, laugh, I don't care," he murmured. "Tell me what you want," he kissed you. "I'll do whatever you want."

"Please keep kissing me, don't…" you gasped. "Don't stop, Dave."

"You're shaking," he observed. "Are you getting close?"

"Yes," you nodded, just as he had said, your legs were shaking due to the pleasure you were enduring.

"Am I going to make you cum?" Really? –he asked timidly, you nodded again-

-Do it on my tongue –he asked making you moan- please, show me how good I make you feel

You pushed against his face, he took everything you offered him, kissing and licking you up and down until there was not a piece of you left untouched.

-That's it baby, fuck my face, smother me between your thighs –he moaned when you pushed your hips against him again- take all of me, use me –you gasped holding onto his hair again- please, cum on my tongue, please… -he whimpered-

Without warning, you unloaded against him. You tried to regain control of your body and your breathing, at the same time that he separated from you and watched you closely.

-You came so hard- he said haltingly-

-Are you excited?

-Of course I am- he murmured- I've never been so hard in my entire life- he laughed nervously-

-Is it because of me?- you asked, he looked at you as if you were an entity from a parallel reality-

-Of course it's because of you- he said as if it were obvious- of course it is- he added in case there was any doubt-

You took his hand firmly, he stared at you.

-Where are we going?- he asked as you led him through the library- You didn't answer, you concentrated on remembering the way and when you reached the room you were looking for, you closed the door with the latch that was on the inside.

-This room has been abandoned for a long time - you explained - my friend Cassie lets me use it sometimes

-I see - he observed -

You looked at each other for a moment, before you nodded to the chair in the center of the room.

-Sit down - you ordered firmly, he did so without saying anything -

-I can't believe this is finally happening - he whispered - I've been wanting you for a long time, and now that you're in front of me is a shock to the senses - he laughed nervously -

You slowly took off the rest of your clothes under his watchful gaze. Dave’s blue eyes slid down your body before coming back up to your eyes

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured so gently that you wanted to cry. “The way you look at me makes me feel like butter,” he laughed. “I know it’s a bad comparison, b-but I c-can’t think straight when you’re naked in front of me,” he murmured, “when I can see every curve, stretch mark, and scar, all at my disposal.”

“Dave?”

“Mhm?”

“Take off your clothes,” you asked politely. He looked at himself for a moment as if he didn’t remember he was wearing them and nodded slowly. “Sure m-my c-clothes,” he stammered, kicking off his shoes and pants, making you laugh. “When he was just like you, you did the same thing he had done to you, look at him. He was… perfect, was all you could think to say. His silver glasses were a little crooked and his blue eyes were shining as he looked at you again.

“I’m yours,” he said softly. “Please do whatever you want with me, use me,” he murmured nervously. “Oh my god, this is serious,” he realized then. “It’s so much better than my dreams,” he blurted out, making you laugh.

Within a few seconds, you had taken him in your mouth, and he was the one grabbing your hair. His gasps and moans filled the room, which you felt like music to your ears.

“Your mouth…” he growled. “It’s so… warm,” he murmured. “All those nights in my bed pleasuring myself with your hand while I imagined it was your mouth,” he confessed, making you gasp against him. “Shit,” he whimpered as you pushed him a little deeper into your mouth.

“Please…” he panted. “Oh my god, fuck!” “He cried out as he panted, his lips parted in a silent moan. “Please don’t stop… please…” He opened his eyes wide as he felt you slowly slowing down, just what he didn’t want you to do.

“Why are you stopping?” he asked, trying not to sound desperate (it didn’t work) “I need your mouth on me again, please…” he whimpered, you loved watching him beg.

That was what he wanted, so that’s what you did. He gasped as you took him back into your mouth. His hands returned to your hair as a new moan escaped his lips. He whimpered, and you felt him swelling against the back of your throat.

“Can you feel me?” he asked between gasps. -I need I-I'm going to… -you slapped his thigh- y-yes I'm a good boy, just for you- he groaned- Oh my god, I'm so close… I think I'm going to…

He didn't have time to say anything else. He came without warning, filling you just the way you both wanted. He gasped when you pulled out. His gaze focused on you and you did the same with him.

-You're so… you're… -he started, unable to put together a coherent sentence- I… you…

-I know, Dave –you smiled- me too

[samcarpentersgirlfriend]

HEYY! excuse-me 🥺 can you do some hcs (sfw/nsfw) of sam dating a girl like "golden retriever" "hyper energy" and "hooded child who doesn't stop in place" girlf ?

thank you for requesting!! ♡

GOLDEN RETRIEVER HCS || SAM CARPENTER X READER 𖤐₊˚.

warnings: none :)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

- sam carpenter isn’t really known for her expressive nature - she tends to keep her emotions close to her chest unless she’d certain she can trust you.

- so when her friends and sister find out that she’s dating you - the human embodiment of sunshine itself - they can hardly believe it.

- because sam was… well, sam. and the pair of you were just so different; you were always so damn cheerful and had enough energy to rival a small child on a sugar rush, and as endearing as that was, it hardly fit into sam’s reserved and careful nature.

- but the two of just seemed to work - especially given just how enamoured sam is with you. the way you smile especially has her weak in the knees, all flustered like she’s suddenly a teenager in love.

- the way you smile alone is enough to make her day, so it’s a damn good thing that you grin at practically everything: when you wake up and see that the sun is shining, when your favourite song comes on the radio, and - sam’s personal favourite - when she finishes work and you look at her like she’s the centre of your entire universe.

- the best part of her day is when you run into her arms after a long shift, telling her just how much you’d missed her whilst she was gone. and with the way you kiss her, all gentle yet so damn eager , she can certainly tell.

- usually, sam can’t deal with rambling at all. it gets on her nerves, and there’s not enough people that she tolerates enough to potentially listen to for that long. but with you? god, she’d listen to you talk for days.

- she just sits there, nodding and smiling like an idiot as you ramble on about some movie you just watched or a cute dog you saw on your walk home - sometimes, she has no idea what it is that you’re tracking about, but she doesn’t even care - not when you’re so damn cute when you’re passionate.

- showers you with gifts - but feels totally embarrassed to give them to you. stands there awkwardly as you squeal over your new necklace, but can’t help but chuckle as you literally throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her so tightly that it’s a wonder you don’t break any bones.

- swears that it isn’t a big deal (she spent an obscene amount of money on it) and she only got it because she was near the store (you’d said you’d liked it weeks ago, and you deserved only the best). legend has it that you’re the only one that can make sam carpenter blush.

- you drag her everywhere with you - literally. you hold onto her hand and move from place to place so quickly that you might as well teleport, trying desperately to enjoy everything all at once.

- “wait, sam!! look at that! oh, it’s so great, do you see it?? it’s adorable!!”

“yeah, i see it princess - almost as cute as you.”

- the way you hurry around also means that sam keeping an eye on you becomes second nature; she’s always prepared to reach out or hook an arm around to ensure that you don’t trip over your own feet.

- seriously. sometimes she wonders what happens when she’s not there to catch you - although she does her damn hardest to make sure that’s never the case.

- sam is understandably already overprotective of those she cares about, but with you, she turns it up to an eleven. mostly, it’s because she worries - you were so sweet to everybody, and she didn’t want anybody to try and take advantage of that.

- she takes this very literally - glaring at almost every new person you introduce yourself to.

- it’s nothing you haven’t noticed though, and you can’t help but tease her for it. she just grumbles and says you’ve “turned her soft,” even despite the fact you can both she she’s smiling like an idiot <3

- you both also know that you have her wrapped around your finger without even trying - sam never has been able to say no to your puppy dog eyes.

- you definitely rope her into matching with you - whether it’s with makeup, outfits or accessories (she 100% wears a necklace with your initial on it <3)

- given your already…hyperactive nature, sam admirably tries her hardest to keep you away from caffeine - nothing good comes from that combination, trust her. you just think it’s sweet that she cares, and even if you don’t always take her advice, you appreciate her always looking out for you.

- on a semi-related note, your sleeping pattern isn’t the most regular, but when you do fall asleep, more often than not, it just happens to be on sam - whether it’s her shoulder or her chest, your girlfriend has had to resign herself to the role of personal pillow.

- not that she minds, and her heart definitely melts when she sees just how peaceful you look.

- you have a habit of wanting to try everything - meaning you’ve tried your hand at basically every hobby under the sun. painting, pottery, crocheting - you name it, you’ve probably wanted to try it at some point. even though you usually end up growing bored and inevitably give it up, sam keeps souvenirs from all of your endeavours and treasures them all, her favourite being a painting that, if you squint hard enough, shows the two of you on some sort of date.

- sam had never been somebody who revived a lot of compliments growing up, but with you? every single day, you make sure to let her know just how does ik she is to you and how much you love her, plain and simple. she doesn’t know if you’re aware just how much that means to her, but gif, she hopes you do.

- you’re possibly the only person- maybe even including tara - who can get away with calling her stupidly sappy nicknames.

- they’re corny as hell and make no sense half of the time, but they come from your heart - and sam can’t help but adore that fact.

- after a mere few months into your relationship, the difference in sam’s apartment is palpable: the table never is never not decorated with flowers you bought because “aren’t they just the prettiest things you’ve ever seen?”, photos of the pair of you are tacked up onto the fridge with heart magnets and all of your belongings are strewn across the place like you live there - which, at this point, you might as well.

- being around you in general just allows sam to relax immensely - your energy’s just so infectious that being around you instantly puts her in a good mood, and she loves the way you encourage her to be better without even trying.

- and, as sappy as it sounds, every moment sam spends with you, she finds herself becoming more and more completely enamoured with you <3

[autumnalal]

i lost a lot of muscle from my chronic illness so my mother wanted to feel how much i had left. i was indifferent until apparently in order to feel my muscle required her to lift up my pant leg, revealing a very atrophied, very hairy leg. i detest shaving generally, but even if i wanted to, i can't anymore because i have essential tremor, extreme fatigue, and joint pain that makes even shampooing more than once a week a painful feat. i have a doctor's appointment coming up, and rather than commenting on my lack of muscle, my mother chose to comment on my hair. her: "you should probably shave your legs before you see your doctor!"

me: "...i can't shave. i would cut myself open. i have a tremor. it never goes away and it is extremely hard to even wash my hair." her: "oh... well... what about waxing?"

me: "i can't afford that. and i don't have the strength or energy to do it myself." her: *silence* me: *silence* anyway, i share this anecdote bc whether you can or can't shave and choose not to, despite being expected to for your gender expression, it's YOUR body, and that's what most bodies do, and having a body that does that isn't bad or gross or ugly, just existing isn't wrong, and you ABSOLUTELY positively most definitely never ever have to shave for someone else... like your medical specialist who almost certainly doesn't give a crap (and if they did, well, maybe look for a new one). in fact, if anyone convinces you to shave for THEIR comfort, i encourage you not to, and proceed to wave said body hair in their face, to help with your own personal comfort. :) ((side note: this especially applies to disabled folk who have no choice in the matter and/or to poor folk who can't afford luxuries such as body hair removal)) (remember, laser hair removal and full body waxing are luxuries, not necessities) (also shouldn't have to ever explain your reason for personal choices, but here i am doing it anyway)

this has been a psa thank you and good day

[biggie-chcese]

This is the post where I talk about Yakou, Vivia, and Yuma

(buckle up, buttercup it's a spoiler-ridden ramble)

so these three knuckleheads (and makoto, but this post ain't about him) just so happen to be my favorite characters in the game. and part of the main reason for that is, well, *gestures vaguely at all of Chapter 4*, but also just the dynamic that these three share. a long time ago, i made a memey post about this dynamic, and while i'm sure you can very easily infer what i'm trying to say in it, i'll still clarify it here:

vivia and yuma both have very, very similar feelings towards yakou.

now, this is not a sentence i'm saying with shipping goggles on- i want to make it clear that this post is not about romantic ships. it's a joint canon character analysis, and i think it's important to stress this early on.

let me start from the end of the beginning: the part in chapter 0 where yuma just left the labyrinth, and despite his best efforts in fighting the peacekeepers with facts and logic, still finds himself about to be arrested. it's important to consider just how yuma's state of mind is at this point in the game. thanks to both the brutal massacre on the train and his amnesia, yuma is helpless. he's traumatized, and aimless, and feels like he has no one on his side. this even includes shinigami, because while they develop into incredible partners later on, at this point in the game, yuma does not see her as such.

it's not shinigami who saves him from this predicament, despite how much she brags about allegedly doing so. it's yakou who comes to his rescue. and when he's under yakou's protection, yuma even internally voices his relief: "finally, an ally."

now, yakou is the first person yuma sees this way. when he got onto the amaterasu express, he was immediately thrust into a situation where he couldn't trust anyone on board, including himself. the people he could've trusted died before he had the chance, and the peacekeepers are most certainly his enemies. so yakou is the one that yuma latches onto. over time, that submarine, the friends he'd meet, the memories he'd make, yakou himself, and everything he represents would become home to yuma. but that's a bit later. for now, yakou guides him through the city, and then to the roof where they'd look over the vast expanse of neon lights and share a much needed moment of solace. a moment of peace... and quiet.

speaking of that phrase, i am going to start talking about vivia now.

from vivia's DLC, we learn a lot about his first days in kanai ward. he arrives to the city depressed, constantly searching for his own peace and quiet. thanks to his forte and his upbringing, he's traumatized, and aimless, and feels as though he has no one on his side. when yakou gives him the rooftop talk he gave the other detectives, vivia is notably pretty cold with him. he immediately makes it clear to yakou that he doesn't intend to go around saving people, or solving mysteries, or even making friends. he even tells yakou to leave him alone.

this i find really interesting, because when yuma approaches him in the prologue, vivia is very receptive to him to the point of even calling him kind for bothering to speak to him. i think this is because of yakou. it's yakou's persistent kindness that eventually helps vivia inch out of his shell, bit by bit, until he's finally happy to be receiving that kind of attention from others. in that DLC, yakou showing just how much he cared over and over again saved vivia in a very different way than yuma. but don't get it twisted- there's a lot they share in common.

let's look at the way vivia talks about yakou and the submarine itself. in chapter 3, he calls the fireplace within it his "beautiful bed of peace and quiet." in chapter 4, he stresses it again, saying "Surprisingly... I liked it there... The little bit of peace and quiet I found at the Nocturnal Detective Agency." and in the epilogue, he looks back at the chief's empty chair, and says "It was rather... comfortable in here."

from this, it's easy to tell that the submarine, the friends he'd met, the memories made, yakou himself, and everything this man represented, was home to vivia. sound familiar?

and i wanna touch on the other detctives too, because i am not implying that vivia and yuma have stronger bond with yakou than them or anything. they, too, deeply care for their chief and vice versa. in fact, yakou treats all of the detectives pretty much the same way (this is also part of why the yakou fathero trope doesn't personally appeal to me- it's almost always exclusive to yuma, which i dont think is the case in canon. the only thing exclusive to yuma is the pushing around and light bullying from yakou, and this is because yuma lets everyone treat him that way). yakou sees the detectives not only as colleagues, but also as people he needs to protect. even in chapter 4, when he puts everyone in danger, he still had their safety in mind- otherwise he'd only bring fubuki and desuhiko along for his plan. halara and vivia were there to keep everyone safe, and yuma was to not be involved at all. of course, he didn't account for yuma's impeccable ability to get into trouble... but more importantly, he didn't account for the possibility that the detectives would bother to stay with him and try to save him.

they all love their chief so much. they all try to save him. they all break down when they can't. and while i don't find vivia and yuma's love for yakou greater than the other detectives', i do think it's different.

halara, fubuki, and desuhiko all have these implied outer lives from what we see in the game. once they're out of kanai ward, they still have people, passions, and duties to return to. but the same can't be said for vivia and yuma.

in his dlc, vivia says himself that he has no one. this means that, despite the big family he was raised in, it's likely none of them are keeping contact with him. he says he has no regrets- only things to do before he quietly passes on. the man came to kanai ward looking for a place to die. this is the attitude of someone who fully believes he has nothing to lose.

yuma has amnesia for most of the game, so he quite literally lost everything. he even says so. as far as he's concerned, everything he holds dear is localized entirely within kanai ward. also, it's not like the man he used to be- number one, who famously works alone- had anyone to begin with. even though there is a very different set of issues from vivia's happening here, selling off your memories is, frankly, also the attitude of someone who fully believes he has nothing to lose.

this very similar setup is why i think they see yakou as someone who takes up a large portion of what they consider their entire world. vivia simply sees this in a more metaphorical sense while, for yuma, it's much more literal. in a way, this also kinda parallels how these two act.

so you may be wondering why any of this matters. like, okay, they both feel the same way towards yakou. then what? well i just think it makes chapter 4, an already amazing chapter, even more compelling!!

think about it this way: chapter 4 is a clashing of ideals under the same exact desires- to protect yakou. to protect their home. to protect everything they hold dear and return to how things were before.

but the ways they go about doing this are completely different. yuma chooses to protect his home by revealing the truth and weathering the oncoming storm, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. vivia chooses to protect his home by sticking to a comfortable lie, preventing anyone else from seeing the cracks in the walls and skeletons in the closet.

but, regardless of their methods, everything they do is because of love. it's because of care. it's because of gratitude. it's because of this deep desperation to cling on to what they believe is all they have left...

...despite the fact that it's already slipping between their fingers like sand...

and this. this is what i think makes vivia's choice to let go of that desperation, take yuma's hand, and fight at his side as a detective all the more powerful.

[meanbossart]

Just gotta say that the way you draw facial expressions is soooo dynamic, and your art makes me grin with equal feral glee when I see it. 🥰

I love your spooky smiley deranged durge, will you tell me more facts about them?

Thank you so much! And YES i certainly can uuhhh lets see

-In my personal canon he has no name, having first assumed to have forgotten it along with everything else and later being told/figuring out that he renounced any in favor of being called Bhaalspawn, Slayer, Death Bringer, Bhaaling, and any number of edgy titles we hear throughout the game lol he did this pre-tadpole to emphasize his birth-right and deny himself any personal identity. He never picked a name for himself post-tadpole and everyone just refers to him as The Drow, Astarion also calls him his usual pet names.

-He's not necessarily one for luxuries but still likes pretty, ostentatious things, especially jewelry. Pre-tadpole DU drow wore them generously, post-tadpole doesn't understand his own fascination, but he likes wearing rings and holds some sentimentality for specific pieces. (he never threw away the "magic" ring he stole from the tiefling child in act 1)

-Every expression of love and affection he had pre-tadpole came out pretty twisted, but with this in mind he very much adored Orin, though you would never guess it from seeing how they interacted with each other.

-The patterned scars on his chest, face and neck were mostly self inflicted (the rest he had Orin's help for). The one's on his arms were an "accident" kinda but he still put them there willingly (and gleefully lol)

-He has a borderline irrational hatred for drow women. He hates drows in general, though mostly because they're uptight and snobby and less so because of, yknow, all the slavery and child killing etc.

-Despite looking evil as hell he's very much morally neutral post-tadpole. He's pretty much a "do what you have to do to survive" kind of guy - and sometimes a "because i want to" kind of guy lol.

-He thinks very highly of himself which makes him overly bold. This got him through the whole campaign and destroying the brain but it also makes him a huge liability LOL its also a source of conflict in his and Astarion's relationship because he lowkey doesn't think Astarion can make it without him - he continuously and completely fails to realize how this is an issue.

-The only other people he has respect for and trusts are Shadowheart, Astarion and Jaheira. Ironically these are all people he didn't get along with well at all at the start.

-He's kind of a hopeless romantic, he's just weird about it. He's pretty much picked Astarion as his person and kind of devotes his life to him now, sometimes to a troubling extent.

-I'm writing a whole story that takes place post-game here where you can gleam a lot more about his character and learn things that i can't share yet because it would be a spoiler hint hint nudge nudge

[spitdrunken]

Herlock Sholmes Relationship Headcanons.

notes: Female!Reader, probably inaccurate depictions of late 19th century romance/courting, neurodivergent Herlock, aro/acespec Herlock. this is very self-indulgent lol and i will not apologise

Let me start off by saying that this man is far from the perfect relationship material. He's just not. Plain and simple. If there's anything he's got going for him from the start, it's that Herlock Sholmes could not care less about social conventions. He's aware of them, certainly, and disregards them just as easily. In other words, you're not about to be engaged nearly as quickly, nor would he be bothered by a woman such as yourself taking more of the initiative.

You'll probably need to. Because, at least in the context of his own romantic feelings, the man is about as dense as a rock. It's not entirely his fault. Herlock just isn't the type to develop crushes or infatuations. He has too much on his mind, frankly, and even if he were to have budding feelings, he doesn't chase after them. Most suitors would be put off after spending more than 30 minutes in the same room with him. Suffice it to say that the Herlock Sholmes of fiction does not measure up to the one of reality. The interest of most of his fans can only be chalked up to Iris' talents.

One, for example, needs to be a good listener or at least equiped with a certain amount of patience. Herlock has a tendency to ramble about things he cares about and others, possibly, may not. Even with his hallowed observational skills, it would take him a bit to notice you were genuinely growing tired of him. At which point, it'd rouse a self-deprecating insult and a bout of laughter. It's a sign of care when he slows down a bit. When he might change subjects, or settle down to listen to things that may not directly interest him, for a change. Though his eyes might be darting all over the place and he's bouncing his leg, he really is listening.

He has absolutely no sense of romance despite his usual dramatic flair. The most likely way you'll end up 'committed' to Herlock is to go on a couple of questionably romantic outings and, then, for the two of you to sit down and share a meal.

As he chews, he takes a long look at you and then shallows. He frowns, saying your name and trailing off. "I think I might be in love with you. Yes… Hm." Meanwhile, you're almost choking on a mouthful of food. You were fully prepared to spend months more in the limbo of uncertainty brought upon yourself by your awful tastes in men, but… Heat rises to your face. You hadn't been expecting this. It isn't unwelcome. Even then, you can't help but bring a bit of exasperation to the table. For one thing, he could've sounded less unsure! "Do you now? Are you certain?" If Herlock picks up on your tone, he doesn't show it. He continues to look at you with an unreadable expression. He stares deep into your eyes. All of a sudden, his expression melts into a smile softens into an expression that makes your heart stutter. "Why, now that I really sit down and think about it, I do believe it must be true. First of all…"

After this, he begins to expand upon all the things, big and small, he appreciates about you. It's long-winded and, again, more factual than passionate in its delivery. However, the sheer amount of little details he shares about you, evidence of hours of rumination, and the length at which he talks manage to push it back into the 'romantic' category. In fact, it's overwhelming. You have no idea how to measure up by the end of it. Still, at the same time, you can barely keep yourself from kicking your feet underneath the table like a little girl.

"Well? What is your response?" He asks and the audacity is jarring. It's pushy for him to ask you to spell it out for him like this, to suddenly throw it at you. when you manage to stammer out that you also think that you love him, most likely, too hesitant to add a touch of certainty when he hadn't, and he laughs so hard and laugh that you jump in your seat. "Case solved, then!"

That doesn't mean that the entirety of your future engagement is smooth sailing, however. One such thing is his sleeping habits. They are, without a doubt, truly awful. For yourself, it'd be easiest to sleep in a different room… But there's none available in his current lodgings. Herlock will chug coffee at far too late hours, leaving him entirely unable to rest when you're settling in. Somehow, he's often up before you regardless. From time to time, his exhaustion catches up to him and you'll find him passed out face-down on the floor, drool forming a puddle underneath his chin. You would've ran out the door and yelled for help if it weren't for Iris assuring you it's not abnormal. He's fine, in fact.

Concerning Iris, you are not sure how to carry yourself around her. Nevertheless, she's someone who's incredibly important to Herlock and someone you must get along with. You do, and that's not the issue— She's a sweet girl and gifted in ways you struggle to comprehend. It's just almost strange how mature she makes herself appear to be and you don't want to force yourself in a role no one has filled for her before. You take everything as it comes and find out that, smart as she may be, she really is just a child. While you don't baby her, to an extent, she does enjoy being looked after and supported.

Getting back to Herlock, it can be utterly strange to you how his memory works. He might forget big dates like your anniversary, completely on accident, and then effortlessly recall an offhanded comment you made in a conversation approximately five months prior. That memory then does result in an undeniably thoughtful gift. You've made lists for him with important dates and appointments. It doesn't work, because he'll either forget to look at it or lose the page somewhere in the clutter of his living space. Herlock isn't dumb or careless, it's simply the way his brain works.

It's likely that the beginning of your relationship will consist of plenty of expectations that are lost in translation. Again, Herlock is undoubtedly more perceptive than most, but the simplest way to put it is that he doesn't really know how a relationship like this 'works', so to say. If it were to have any hope of lasting, you will have to sit him down and tell him what might accidentally be hurtful, what you were expecting going in on this.

Once it fully registers that he has been far from a becoming fiance, Herlock really does feel quite bad. He wants to make up for it, even when his impulses continue to try and drag him all over the place. He'll make an active effort to spend more time around you, for starters.

Physical touch is a bit of a frog-boiling process with Herlock, but once he's accustomed you've awakened a bit of a monster. He's not very touchy-feely. That is more because he's never had anyone be that way with him before, not even his family. When you, whether shyly or confidently, nuzzle up to him, hug him, hold his hand or kiss him, he realises with a start that hm, he rather enjoys this! It's nice! And then there's no going back.

There's no word to describe him rather than clingy, needy, almost. He'll lock arms with you or kiss you in public without a care for propriety. At one point, he'll calculate the average amount of times you touch him on any given day and get somewhat sulky if his 'quota' isn't met. He has a hard time being on his own in general, and this hasn't improved matters whatsoever.

None of this comes quite naturally to him, and after you've realised that, it helps you grow past any insecurities and accept it. Frankly, sometimes you wonder if interacting with people whatsoever comes naturally to Herlock Sholmes. But, if you'd expected or wanted anything different, you wouldn't have commited yourself to 'romancing' such an eccentric mind to begin with. Maybe your relationship will never quite be conventional, and that's fine with you. You've moulded yourself to each other in bits and pieces, and you're certain now that you love him. You're sure, too, that the feeling's mutual.

[herasversion]

Modern Thrones: Unveiling Aemond's Layers

Autors note: Hey, so this is my first House of the Dragon story . It's an Aemond Targaryen x Reader story in a modern setting, and I'm planning to split it into multiple parts. Hope you like it!

summary: "In a college where life's twists shape futures, seeking help from Aemond Targaryen for laptop troubles reveals unexpected layers, especially when you realize he isn't as annoying as you thought."

In life, there are certain circumstances that can shape your future. As you walk through the halls of your college, with its almost castle-like appearance, you can't help but think this might be one of those defining moments. Or at least, you hope so because there's no other reason you would ask Aemond Targaryen for help unless it's absolutely necessary."

With his cocky expression, gorgeous hair, and, most notably, his singular eye, there is no one on campus who doesn't know him. The fact that his family hails from royal Valyrian descent certainly adds to his allure, not to mention that their family company stands as the largest law and tech enterprise in the world.

Even though it's widely known that he is less than pleasant, and despite the constant family conflicts, everybody still recognizes him. Sadly, he's the only one among his siblings who doesn't have many friends, largely due to his intimidating appearance. That's what you would say if he wasn't so incredibly rude.

As you walk into the library, you notice him sitting alone at a table. Some girls stare at him, finding his demeanor charming, but nobody dares to get close. Here you are, on the brink of surrendering your dignity, about to ask a favor from the person who consistently shoots down your ideas in the middle of the lecture hall and always manages to score two points higher than you.

As you walk up, Aemond looks up and starts smirking, almost like he knows what's about to happen. It's as if there's a big sign on your head, stating, "Here comes the moment when you have to swallow your pride and ask Aemond Targaryen for help with the malfunctioning of your laptop because apparently he is the only TA your professor trusts with all the work of the students."

You're already irritated because it's pure nepotism that your professor, out of all his other TAs, exclusively entrusts Aemond Targaryen with his files. That stupid smirk really ticks you off. As you stomp towards his table, his smirk widens, and there's a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

As you slap your laptop on the table, he looks you up and drawls, "Laptop trouble." All the while, he's sizing you up and down, assessing what kind of threat you might be. You give him your most sarcastic and fake smile, saying, "Yes, just some problem with the student files you're supposed to give us access to."

He looks up with a smirk and says, "What kind of files? I mean, it's not every day you ask me for help. Or do you mean the files the professor gave to us? Did he forget you?" He asks mockingly.

"Yes, those files," you say, annoyed. He laughs and says, "It's not every day you ask me for a favor. And what do you always say? 'Don't give anything if you get nothing,'" he drawls. You look up at him with the most pleading eyes you can muster.

He laughs at your expression and says, "You don't want to fail, do you? You just made TA." You look up at him annoyed and say, "Yes, not everybody can get everything just because of their family." Now he also looks annoyed and says, "I was just going to help because of the goodness of my heart." You scoff, but now he adds, "But now I want something in return," he says as he smirks. You get up angrily and walk away, not before he yells, "Meet me here tomorrow, then we'll discuss what you can do for those files," he drawls.

To be continued..

A/n: Drop your thoughts on where you'd like this story to go! Your feedback and comments mean a lot. Don't forget to reblog and share the excitement!

[lazysublimeengineer]

Reo, Shidou & Kunigami: When One's String of Fate has Been Cut to Make the Other Keep Going

Recently I've been asked by one of my readers why do I like a character such as Shidou Ryusei.

It's a genuine, curious yet baffling question from them as if it's a big question mark to like a character such as him.

Well, I do guess that sometimes the saying, "first impressions" last is quite true...

...at least for some readers in the fandom seeing that Shidou doesn't have a favorable impression in the fandom.

Nevertheless, I simply asked them what's not to like?

His aggressive, overtop personality certainly overshadows other interesting aspects of his characteristics. During the second selection, he was the one who took notice of Reo's challenging stance when they encountered them and it intrigued him. It's quite ironic since half of the characters during the second selection thinks that Reo is not in his best mental state which is partially true but it doesn't hide the fact that there was a remaining tactical facet in the part of his mind and it showed in this panel above when they encountered and challenge Shidou's team with a sound reasoning from him.

Despite being labelled as a violent tempered and impulsive character in the franchise, he can surprisingly sharp especially in his judgment of characters that's why he took notice of Reo from the beginning and it contributed to his decision to choose him at the end of the match.

When Isagi and the others began questioning Reo on why he wasn't included in the lineup of their team and seemed doubtful because Kunigami wouldn't let it end that easily, it was Shidou who immediately took the reins to explain why he wasn't with them in the first place. A lot of readers/viewers of the manga/anime doesn't seem to understand on why was Kunigami wasn't chosen by him in the first place despite having a good physique and playstyle overall.

It was because Shidou noticed that Kunigami's heroic attitude and holier than thou attitude from the start doesn't resonate with him and he lacks ego. He noticed that Kunigami was reluctant to fight them and it was Reo who was willingly to fight against them despite the odds were against them.

At that period, he couldn't see the vision of Kunigami making him explode in the field and help him rising up in the program.

His statements in this panel were harsh and it probably contributed to half of the fandom's disliked or neutral perception of him. But in my perspective, it's interesting, provocative yet has a ring of truth in it.

In Blue Lock program, it doesn't matter if you're a good person or not. If you're loyal or not. If you're kind or not. Those personality attributes is not being promoted if the philosophy itself we're about egoism, individuality and being the best among the rest. And that is what is Shidou is trying to deliver in a panel like this.

For an emotionally volatile person like him, he can be clinical, cold yet logical in his perception of his surroundings and events around him and that what makes him interesting.

Despite all of this, as a reader I'm also fascinated by Reo and Kunigami's brief interaction together during the NEL arc as it was simply a reversal of their situation with each other. During the second selection, Kunigami was the one who was looking out for Reo because he wasn't simply in the right frame of mind and was overcome by too many emotions at once. Noticed that now in the NEL arc, Reo was the one who approached him and expressed on how glad he was back despite the setbacks and lost that they went through during their match against Shidou during the second selection.

I wouldn't say that it's a trio between the three of them. But their scenes together in the franchise and their matches against each other during the second selection is one of the most fascinating and thought provoking for me.

[nellie-elizabeth]

The Handmaid's Tale: Promotion (6x04)

This episode felt like a bit of a transition, not as much to dig our teeth into.

Cons:

A lot of things that were already established were sort of... re-established here, without a ton of forward movement? We already knew Janine was at Jezebel's, and we saw her there. We already understand Lawrence's weird warped conflicted feelings about his situation, we already know Nick's father-in-law is hitting on Serena, we already know Nick is playing the middle... we already know Mayday is planning something big, and this episode is more of the planning. We see Aunt Lydia come to talk to Serena, but we don't actually see that conversation take place. Nothing wrong with a lot of this material, it just felt like a lot of setting up pieces on the chess board without making a definitive move.

I do feel like there's something slightly clunky about the core conflict between June on one side, and Luke and Moira on the other. I get June having the attitude of "I have more experience being a resistance fighter on the inside," but honestly, how true is it that she's uniquely qualified as a strategist? It doesn't feel like she actually has more knowledge of how to go against Gilead, she just has more experience getting out of near-death experiences because she's got protagonist plot armor. And Luke, I get it, Luke doesn't have experience dealing with stuff. But Moira certainly does! She's an escaped refugee of Gilead as well! I like the conflict as a character thing between these three, but the show seems to agree with June in a way that I wish it didn't? I don't know. This is a difficult critique to express, but there's just a slight wrongness here that I can't quite pin down.

Pros:

This episode isn't destined to be particularly memorable or impactful, but there are still some really powerful moments here.

Lawrence bringing little Angela's drawing for Janine to see... that moment really bowled me over. Lawrence is a character crafted with enough care that the minute he agreed to take Janine you knew he wouldn't touch her, there really isn't even a moment where you think he might go through with anything. And Janine telling him that he's "scary" is an important moment too. You can't sympathize with Lawrence, he's absolutely orchestrated his own misery in a lot of ways. But that feeling of being trapped is also so prevalent. He doesn't want to be here, he doesn't want to play these fucking games.

The scenes with little Angela are so heart-wrenching because Lawrence, despite the fact that Naomi and Angela were foisted upon him against his will, is trying to be a good man who cares for this innocent little girl. We see a glimpse of Naomi as a mother, and all she does is scold, while Lawrence admires Angela's art and reads to her. Listening to his voice read A Little Princess was so incredibly soothing. I loved that.

We also got to see Rita reunite with her sister - it's terrifying to think of anybody willingly coming back to Gilead to stay, but this episode demonstrates the reason why someone would make such a choice. I'm happy for Rita but also so, so scared for her and her family. Serena looking on at these reunions that she helped to facilitate, also knowing that she was part of the reason these families were torn apart... what's going on in your head, Serena? Do you really repent? Can you atone? I don't know how she could possibly make up for it all.

The core conflict between Luke and June, while I did have a bit of a complaint about it above, I do think it's interesting. Luke framing this as, he wants his chance to fight for Hannah... I mean, it makes sense. Dude has been sitting there helpless to do anything basically this whole time. He got June back, and then she keeps running off and putting herself in danger again and again for the good of the many. All that energy and anger building up, of course Luke would want to charge in there and make a difference directly. But also, June is right to caution him. Getting to Hannah might not be in the cards, no matter what else they manage to accomplish. I'm excited to see the two of them go into Gilead together, for a big crazy mission. I'm not sure how successful I think they'll be, but I'm along for the ride!

6.5/10

[tangleweave]

@tabbyrp

The evening had been… everything Peter had hoped for.

It had also gone just about exactly as he'd expected.

In this moment, he's not entirely sure if the latter outweighs the former. But Tabby hasn't vomited (yet). Neither, though, can she keep her feet. Her arms are looped lazily about his neck, which could be construed as some manner of intimate gesture… certainly with him bearing her bridal style, the image invokes a variety of images. He's steadily carrying her up through the stairwell -- because there's no need for anybody to glimpse them in the elevator like this, and his stamina could handle doing this a hundred times before he would ever slow down or lose his grip.

But despite the initial hallmarks of this being something adorable between two more-than-friends, there's also the look on her face. She's a little cross, a bit put out. Depending on how well one might know her, they could call it a cute form of irritation, or they might call it "resting bitch face". It's not the latter -- Peter has known Tabby far too long to let that one pass. And he'll say it to her face, too, that she does have a slight case of RBF, and this isn't it.

No, he knows this expression. She's not even upset with him. She's annoyed that she's allowed herself to reach a point of inebriation where she needs help. And he doesn't blame her for that irritation. Neither does he blame her for getting to that point. How was she to know her body's limit on liquor without exploring it first? And she'd been reasonably responsible about the business. They'd been around friends, people they trusted, and in an establishment whose bartenders were experienced. They'd done everything they could to make it a safe and good time for her 21st birthday.

Someone had said she "overdid it". Not even judgmentally… just a fact of the case. With one hand braced against the counter, Tabby had restrained a series of belches, looking a little more green with each moment of bearing down against herself. When she'd swayed was when the barkeep had kindly, compassionately cut her off and wished her a glorious birthday night, as well as all the good luck (and even some advice) in figuring out what her particular hangover killer would be.

The corner of Peter's mouth quirks upward as he senses Tabby pouting a little more forcefully at him. Never once does he slow his pace, but he never quickens it by so much as a hair, either -- his movements are slow and steady, with her head near the outer wall of the stairwell so that she doesn't risk vertigo by looking over the edge.

He'd intended to ignore her question in the hopes that she would forget she'd asked it. But when she asks it again -- she wants to know why he isn't unsteady or smelling like a barfly, like most of the other men in the bar did -- he offers a faint, noncommittal shrug. "It's not my first time having a few drinks. I just kept things moderated with some water and some soda. See, staying hydrated, that's the key."

That much might be true, but he's evading a different truth that her inquiry is probing towards -- namely, that his consumption had rivaled hers, but he wasn't even close to bleary-eyed. Which is owed, of course, to his vastly accelerated metabolism… and the notion of saying that phrase aloud would make for a dead certainty of Tabby collapsing into a fit of hysterical giggles. He can already hear it -- "Oh, so that's why you can hoover a pizza and not gain an ounce of weight? You gotta tell a girl your secrets, Parker."

"Tell you what, though, I've heard that greasy food will help kill the headache. So if you'll let me raid your fridge, I'll throw together a killer pancake breakfast for you tomorrow morning. You don't mind me crashing on your couch, right?"

[girldragongizzard]

Epilogue 2: Valentine's Day

The afternoon walk from Fairport Communications Company inc. (Printers) to Meghan's coffee shop is meditative today.

The sky is mostly blue, with those smallish clouds that look like cartoonists had something to do with them. And, that means that in about an hour and a half, when the sun sets and starts turning things pink, the whole sky is likely to become a trans pride flag of sorts for a moment.

Everything feels light and relaxed. Even the birds, which are usually fighting with each other over scraps, or dodging a particular dragon, are chill and just chatting with each other.

There is a moment of absurdity, though, when Chapman comes within three blocks of Mandy's Botanical Hand Basket, which mostly sells flowers. The thick flow of almost entirely cis het men to and from that shop is almost identical to the behavior of ants, as if the shop is the colony. With just a few things reversed, since they're taking bouquets away from the central location, rather than to it. But most of them are following the same trails as the others, because there are only a few parking lots nearby, and all the street parking is full.

Upon first seeing this phenomenon, which sie has definitely seen many times before, Chapman can't help but stop to watch it.

Courting rituals are an ancient tradition across all the species that exhibit sexual reproduction. And, really, Chapman has seen it all. But there is something about experiencing this particular ritual while also inhabiting a human body, especially one that isn't obligated to participate on either end of it. There's this weird mix of feelings. The feeling of, "this is what my people do," combined with the feeling of, "they don't want me to be a part of it," and, "thank Entropy I'm not!"

Because of hir experience of recently growing up in this culture and in this time, Chapman hasn't been immune to the socialization surrounding Valentine's day in any way. Sie remembers first experiencing the day when buying mass printed cards for all of hir classmates in first grade. Sie also remembers receiving flowers from a boy as a senior in high school, despite the fact that sie had already come out as asexual and non-binary at the time. But, sie has always been seen and treated as an outsider to it by most people, and knew that hir developmental path as someone inhabiting a human body would be one that deviated from the norm.

And as sie stands now, no cis het man is likely to feel obligated to buy hir flowers or chocolate, and none of hir partners have expressed a desire to receive them.

Though, Meghan, being a dragon, will almost certainly always appreciate a gift of some sort. She hasn't talked about that much, but every time someone has given her a gift, Chapman has noticed a particular gleam in her eye and a restless resettling of her posture that indicates some kind of excitement. And it's totally within the history and makeup of dragons to yearn for gifts.

The problem is that Meghan doesn't really have much space to keep anything. So most gifts for her work best if they're food, or consumable in some way. But Rhoda's apartment would probably have room for flowers.

Huh.

Chapman wonders if sie is seriously considering participation in the activities of that throng of compelled men over there.

Flowers really would be a good idea. Meghan is a trans woman, after all, still within her first year of coming out. She should get to experience that. If the flowers have any sort of a scent, she's going to find tasting it on the air interesting. And, again, Rhoda will appreciate them, too, probably. Probably.

Sometimes, flowers are really a bother, or feel pointless. But Rhoda will almost certainly understand even if she doesn't care for them herself.

But maybe not chocolates.

Maybe…

Sushi.

Oh.

That would be another bouquet of scents for Meghan, and a kind of food that would be easy on her digestive system and full of nutrients. And it might be closer to what her body needs than what she's been eating lately. That tail barb has always struck Chapman as something useful for catching fish.

And a sushi party would be so good!

Hm.

OK, fight for the flowers first, then grab sushi from the Co-op on the way to the cafe. It'll make hir late, but then it'll give hir a chance to mix it up with the guys, which should be amusing.

Chapman straightens the skirt of hir heart print dress, adjusts hir waistcoat, then flicks the brim of hir top hat, and steps into the fray.

—

Rhoda's been in and out of the shop all day, checking in on people she knows at times they're usually there. And Kimberly has just not left the place, even though her shift has been long over.

The girl is practically melted in her seat against the wall and draped across a third of her table, with hooded eyes and the kind of relaxed grin of someone stoned and amused by a particularly complicated dust mote. But as far as Rhoda knows, she hasn't popped outside for a smoke. She's been in that spot, in that pose, ever since she clocked out and flopped there, apron still on.

Occasionally, someone will ask her how she's doing and she'll say, "Yes!"

There's an untouched to-go cup full of cappuccino on the table near her right hand.

Now, since Meghan has extended her rounds to include the territories of her favorite neighbors, she can be expected to be gone until late afternoon. And she'd said something about trying to return around 4:30 to meet her and Chapman, which is why Rhoda's here now. But neither dragon nor Artist have shown up yet.

So, after ordering and receiving her tea, Rhoda chooses to sit at Meghan's favorite table, facing the door, which puts her right in front of Kimberly.

Then she looks slyly over at the off-shift barista and observes, "You've been like this for two days now."

"Woof," says Kimberly. And then she breaks into uncontrollable soft giggles that jerk her whole body just a little bit.

It was a full moon the night of the twelfth. So, for the whole time that the moon was visible in the sky, Kimberly got to be a big poodle. And from what Rhoda understands, she just spent the whole time lying around her apartment because she forgot to arrange for someone to come give her a walk or something. But clearly that was just wonderful.

"So, that was a good choice for you, then?" Rhoda asks.

"Oh, yes. I think so," Kimberly says, without moving or opening her eyes any further. "I do think so."

Although she herself does not understand the need to be a dog, even for a short time, or what it's like to be a dragon, Rhoda finds herself wanting to cry over it anyway. In happiness for Kimberly, and in sadness for those who won't get the chance to be their true selves. But, here in public she chokes that back, and says, simply, "I'm so glad."

Watching the world become this new thing, a place where the secret, the spiritual, the soulful, and the fantastical can become something physical in a way that was never, ever before possible, has been a powerful experience. One that shakes her heart deeply, every day. And, even though she's somehow supposedly the catalyst for this transformation of reality itself, she somehow feels more like an observer. An auntie watching her nieces and nephews coming of age and reaching for the stars and actually grabbing them successfully.

And she thinks she is really so fine with that, honestly.

She really can't wrap her mind around the idea that she's the incidental center of it all. She'll take the protection that offers, but she's not sure she can ever fully believe it. Better to be a person amongst people. And if everyone else is more relaxed and happy because they get to be who they are, so much the better.

It's nice, and maybe today can be another good one.

And then Nathan has to have the audacity, during a lull between customers, to look up from the till and ask, "So, Rhoda? What are you all doing for Valentine's day?"

"What?" the word leaps from her mouth before she's even aware that she's uttering it. "We all for what, now?"

"It's the fourteenth," he says.

"Yes?" she prompts him, narrowing her eyes.

"Valentine's Day."

"Please don't say those words together again," she tells him, spearing him with a meaningful stare.

"OK," he says. "But you are aware you've got yourself a girlfriend who's experiencing this day for the first time as a girl, and she's a dragon, and she has a personfriend who has a lot of experience with this sort of thing."

"You do not have to lecture me, young man," she quips. She's pretty sure he's older than she is, but he deserves it right now. "She can get the lovey dovey shit from me every other day of the year, and I'm not withholding it today – mind you – but I ain't having nothin' to do with this." She gestures at the world expansively. "Got it?"

"Got it," Nathan says. "That's fair. It's a shitty day for a lot of people. Forget I brought it up."

"Thank you." She appreciates he doesn't delve any further or ask anything, and that Kimberly is too out of it to get into it too. She'd rather not recount that part of her history.

"Want a day old?" Nathan asks, holding up a plastic wrapped cookie with a look on his face that's not not a smirk. "It's on me."

"Is that a snicker doodle?" she asks, squinting at it.

"Yep!"

"You do know the way to an old woman's heart," she says, reaching her hand out across the room to wait to receive it.

"It's my pleasure, young lady," he says, taking a few steps out from the counter to place it in her hand. And then, in the process, he sees Kimberly out of the corner of his eye and stops to look at her. "And you, my dear, should go home. Have you even touched your cappuccino?"

"Huh?" Kimberly raises an eyebrow and cracks an eye open to peer at him. Her hand that's near her drink doesn't even twitch.

Nathan steps up to her, to loom over her, fists on hips, and fills his gruff, stern voice full of mirth to say, "You know, we need these seats for paying customers. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to move along."

"Wrong coffee shop," Kimberly snorts.

"You got me there," Nathan says. "You need anything, kiddo? You doin' alright?"

"Like a… big bowl of water, maybe?" Kimberly asks.

"You got it," Nathan chuckles. And then he says over his shoulder as he goes to get the drink, "But you're getting one of the big cups, because the salad bowl's claimed and its owner is due any minute."

"Oh, of course. Thank you!"

"OK," Rhoda says, placing the cookie down on the table next to her tea, and turns to Kimberly. "I'll bite. What's it like?"

Kimberly perks up, sitting up straight and stretching, her eyes widening, "Oh, OK." She looks up at the ceiling for a moment, jaw slack, then says, "So, it happens more than just the one night. It doesn't have to be a completely full moon, so I get the effects for like, six to seven days a month. Which, for me, is like, I guess I get to call it my period or something. And that's pretty fun. But, then. For several hours each night, I don't have to worry about shit, Rhoda. Nothing." Then she tilts her head and stares at something in the middle of the room, and furrows her brow a little. "OK, I do need to worry about shit, specifically, and pee. But nothing else. Like, I don't have thumbs. It's fucking great."

"Do you notice a difference in the way you think and feel?"

"Well, I'm still me, if that's what you're asking," Kimberly says, leaning forward with elbows on knees. "But, yeah, like. I'm colorblind when I'm a poodle, and that's different. I notice that. And everything smells different. My whole body's different, too, and I feel a big relief from that, actually. It's so freeing. But I haven't really been around people yet, so I have no idea if I understand, like, words, or anything like that. But when I have to make decisions and shit, I'm just me. I know what I'm doing. I think the part I don't like is the loneliness. But I've never liked that. I need to find some cool roommates."

"Do you think you'd get along with another dog?"

"Sure! Maybe? Depends on the dog, of course. Same with people."

And then Kimberly's head twitches as something behind Rhoda, outside, catches her attention. So Rhoda turns to see.

All the tension and stiffness in her body loosens, and all the coldness in her bones warms, as she watches Meghan land on the corner across the street. A fizzy golden light rises in her being from her heart to her head.

Meghan in the afternoon sun truly is like a piece of heraldry in stained glass come to life, the indigo diamonds along her back glowing almost as strongly as her eyes. The way that her muscles and bones work together under her gleaming scales to accept the weight of her body and fold those intricate wings safely against her back, is as beautiful a sight as any other creature on Earth. And the way her head snakes around on that swan-like neck to peer into the window of the shop, to see if she, Rhoda, is already here, conveys the eagerness between people. To make a reconnect after a time apart, even if was just a day.

Yeah, that's her dragon.

Already her mind is slipping into the patterns of planning what they'll do together. The things to share and talk about. The work she's done on her book, the passages she's eager to share with her partner. To hear word from around the city, to learn what their friends are up to. Which tea to drink tonight. And maybe talk about what camera to save up for, someday, to get back into photography maybe.

Meghan is getting a bit big. She'll have to take her protective coloration, as she likes to put it, to get through a door. But that just makes her a more formidable doorstop when she's asleep at night, and Rhoda likes that, too.

There isn't much that she doesn't like about Meghan right now, and a whole lot that brings her joy and excitement, and she knows that's a distortion. Seeing only the good because things are going so well for once, like at the beginning of a relationship. But she'll take it for as long as she feels it.

It's been too long.

—

There's Rhoda in the coffee shop, in my spot.

She knows that's where I like to sit, so I can watch the other customers as they walk in and order their drinks, but she got to it first fair and square. She's waiting for me!

I now what the day is and how she feels about it. We talked about that a long time ago, and how the abuse from her ex has made it hard for her.

So, our goal is to treat it like any other day between the two of us, and I'm so cool with that. I never really thought of it as my holiday, either. I gave up on it a long, long time ago. And then I started seeing all the commercial pressure heaved upon men to perform for it, and honestly, it felt contrary to absolutely everything I'd been taught about feminist theory and fighting the tyranny of the division of the genders and binary sexism.

Also, we're not truly a romantic couple, are we?

We're something different, I think. An autistic ace dragon and her wise woman. We're certainly not doing anything straight, in any case. It's a friendship, of course, at the very least. Though it's definitely more than friendship, too, and has room to grow.

Before the dracomorphosis, cross species relationships were always referred to as pets, service animals, charges, and things like that. But the vast majority of us dragons have human parents and human relationships of all sorts. Some say we're the children of humans, and humans are the parents of dragons. And though I know that that's not truly the case, it's close enough to help everyone feel a bit better about how it all might work.

Now, related to that, it turns out, of course, that for the Southern hemisphere dracomorphosis happened just before their mating season. So we actually now know something of what to expect about that, since those of us up North calmed down enough from our own turmoil to read up on their experiences. It was chaos for them, because there was the political upheaval around all that at the same time as millions of horny dragons started courting everything.

I think I've got a better handle on my instincts now than I did a few months ago. I'm feeling prepared for it. So, I think I can ultimately restrain myself when necessary.

But, Hailing Scales as Chapman would say, I sure as fuck can't keep myself from skipping and strutting when I see that look in Rhoda's eyes!

To try to contain it, I start to put on my royal ball gown of starlight halfway through the crosswalk, feeling the weight of that tiara settling into my braided hair. But it doesn't help all that much.

I bounce lightly on bare feet up to the front door and open it with a flourish.

"No shoes, no service!" Nathan calls out to me, the smirk on his face betraying the joke.

I am the one exception to that.

"Hi, Rhoda," I say, and curtsy in front of her on my way to the counter, pulling the bottom of my dress out wide and high between thumbs and middle fingers, pinkies flared. And then I twirl to the counter and relax out of the camouflage, claws clicking on the floor. "The yooj," I chirp.

"You got it," Nathan says and turns to reach for my stainless steel salad bowl. "Put it on your account?"

"Yes," I confirm, and then hop over to our table, pushing the chair aside to settle down into what's usually Rhoda's spot. Then I pull my third tablet, a brand new one, out of my third purse, a near identical replacement for my last one, and put it on the table in front of me. And as I'm turning it on, Rhoda speaks.

"You took your time," she says. "Everything OK out there in Dragonland?"

I notice the huge stupid grin on Kimberly's face as I lift my knuckle to do my typing. And I spare her a thought, mentally congratulating her on her second transition. I'm so glad it's going so well for her. It gives me so much hope for others, and I feel an echo of her euphoria as a kind of compersion.

"Well," I say. "Astraia and Caleb trying get me play D2R with them, but need gaming rig. I had explain that."

"I don't even…" Rhoda starts to say, then her gaze lifts up as the door chimes again with the entrance of someone else.

My head twitches to the side enough to put them in the center of my right eye's vision.

I see a heavily laden pride striped grocery bag with a huge bouquet of roses and lilies above that, swaying precariously through the door in front of a gray and black top hat with a red and white heart print dress, and a pair of self decorated Doc Martins. Of course there's a person in there.

Before I can piece the visual clues together, my tongue lashes out to taste the air, and in addition to the scents of the coffee shop I pick up fresh fish, vinegared rice, wasabi, soy sauce, the flowers, and…

It's Chapman!

[voicesunified]

@obraveyouth;; Link and Sheik. ❝ so because my ancestor left you , you assume i'd leave you too? i dont want to be alone again. i would never leave you so please , please don’t leave me , sheik. ❞ Word Count: 6,439. INU -> I MIGHT HAVE GOTTEN CARRIED AWAY.

ㅤDespite having been with Link for months now, he has never actually left Ordon. He has ventured into the town, he sometimes helps Link when he asks for it or delivers the things he's told to. He's hardly a hermit just staying shut inside the tree house or hiding up in the trees themselves. He tries to do whatever he can around to keep himself busy when he needs a break from the research he was pouring into the Twili for the Hero. But he's never, at any point, step a footout of Ordon. Never even considered it if he was being quite honest, and for multiples of reasons.

ㅤLink has asked him before if he wanted to go to Castle Town with him and though he doesn't believe he made any sort of expression at the offer—whatever the Hero saw? It was something because he never asked again. Sheik paid attention though and he did notice that Link's mood seems to dampen quite a bit whenever he gets ready to go there and gets worse whenever he comes back. He also only goes about once a month, and seems to put it off for as long as he can.

ㅤHe doesn't quite know why, he doesn't even know what the Hero does there. Part of him believes he simply checks in, another part thinks he delivers things to Castle Town. Both could be true, but what he really wanted to know was what made Link so irritated whenever he went off there. He doubted they had the same reasons for avoiding Castle Town, but something about it clearly unsettled Link.

ㅤSo the next time he went, despite the fact Sheik wanted nothing to do with the place, he asked to tag along.

ㅤHonestly, part of him put it all up to the fact he's been here about half a year and never once visited the Royal Family. Despite it being his obligation to serve them. He needed to, at the very least, to make it clear that he was here should they need him. No matter what became of the Sheikah, it was still his duty to uphold their traditions and their oath to Hylia. That was the entire reason his mother named him as she did, a constant reminder of who and what he was. To be a representation of the Sheikah themselves and everything they stood for.

ㅤGoing with Link assured him he'd get to do that, and also that he would get to see what made the Hero so uncomfortable each time he actually left Ordon. Hopefully he wasn't going off and fighting whatever monster happened to be terrorizing Hyrule once a month. Even if having somewhere to point his weapons sounded much better than having to deal with Castle Town.

ㅤThe day they decided to set off for Castle Town, Link got Epona ready and then attempted quite valiantly to get Sheik on top of the Horse with him. The Sheikah avoided both his words and the attempts to grab him, twisting out of the Hero's reach and quickly leaving Ordon regardless of if he followed him or not.

ㅤAbout two feet out of Ordon he was immediately lost. After standing still for to long just staring at his surroundings confused, Link finally managed to get a grip on him. He found himself hauled up onto Epona's back, curses in Sheikah tumbling from his lips as he was securely deposited behind the Hero. He could have probably escaped back off the moment the Hero let go, but before the thought even fully formed he was gifted the most incredible thing in the world.

ㅤA map.

ㅤSheik was raised among Royalty, by a war straightest who was also a Captain in the Royal Army. He was raised to value cartographers and the value of a map—and he certainly did. The moment it was offered to him Sheik took it greedily, grabbing onto the Hero's belts with one hand while the other tried to open the map. This ensured he wouldn't fall off of Epona but also that he could read while they traveled toward the Castle. He hadn't actually seen a world map since being here and he was quite excited to see how Hyrule had changed in the years that he was… well, dead.

ㅤHe did not, however, expect it to change as much as it had.

ㅤ"That's so odd." Sheik was frowning quite intensely at the map, trying not to move on top of Epona to much despite his desire to actually look around where they were. His head would snap up from now and again, as if attempting to confirm with his own eyes what he was actually seeing on the map. Despite the way he took in his surroundings, he had to admit that the map was right. Even if he couldn't believe it. "According to your map where we just came from was south of Hyrule, which is Ordon Village. However, in my era, what was south of Hyrule was Lake Hylia. Which, I mean I suppose…" he darted his gaze back over toward the map. "It still technically is. Ordon is just much further south than I've ever actually gone."

ㅤHe shifted on top of Epona, his fingers twisting in Link's belts every time the horse walked a little bit faster. Link seemed to be listening to him though, so Sheik took the opportunity to keep talking. "What's even more interesting is that it seems… Gerudo Valley moved? It was never that close to Lake Hylia before. I suppose it's possible both the desert and the Lake had increased in sized, taking up more land and therefore getting closer to each other but—" it still seemed just a little bit off to him. Like the lake moved up which didn't make sense to him. Lakes can't just relocate. "Zora's Domain is also in a different place but they're people, they're allowed to relocate."

ㅤAccording to Link's map, the Lost Woods and Kokiri Forest still existed. They were to the North West of Ordon Village, which confirmed his previous theory that they were close together. Even more so, he noticed that Kakariko Village was still in the same place it was in his time, as well as Death Mountain. He wonders, then, if that was where the Shadow Temple had been. He didn't really have a chance to check that out much when they were leaving, being yanked back from the dead is rather disorienting.

ㅤThe Castle and subsequently Castle Town was of course in the same place it always was. On Epona it didn't take that long to get there, but Sheik was also distracted by the map he was gifted. When they did finally arrive and he was permitted to dismount, his gaze was still locked to the paper he was looking over. He hears the amused sound that Link let's out and then sees the Hero reach for the map. With much reluctance he let's Link take it back, so that Sheik could pay attention and walk without walking into anything. He wanted it back later though, he wasn't done comparing things.

ㅤMoving over toward Epona he held his hand out, letting her sniff him briefly before gently patting her snout in thanks. Once she was settled he turned and made his way toward Link, falling in step beside him as they breached the gates of Castle Town. Which was much more open appearing than their own had been. Though the amount of guards hadn't changed. Neither had their armor apparently.

ㅤSheik eyes the few they pass at the gate entrance, watching greet the Hero politely and respectfully. He inched his way closer toward Link and refrained somehow from simply grabbing onto him again. Instead of grabbing onto him he tried to distract himself by asking questions. "So, do they still have Bombchu Bowling?" It seemed like a very simple things. Bombchus were an incredible design and Sheik was actually rather fond of them. Moving bombs had always seemed rather creative and he knows they helped Time on his journey. So when he's given a confused look he actually throws one back at the Hero.

ㅤ"A… bombchu? It's… literally a mouse shaped bomb that rolls across the floor and explodes when it hits something. In my time they invented a game for them called Bombchu Bowling. Since the bombchu is so sensitive, you have to line it up perfectly so it rolls to the wall and explodes it. Sometimes the walls moves, sometimes there are Cuckoos in the way or sliding spikes—" he's gesturing with his hands, trying to paint the picture for Link as if that made it better. "Not a real Cucokoo by the way. I played it a lot when I was little, my mother used it for a training exercise."

ㅤAt this point they had reached the center of Castle Town, with that familiar fountain still in the middle. That same crest of the Royal Family on top of it, the triforce with the wings tjhat stood tall and proud. Unfortunately at the uncomfortably familiar sight of it his hand did grab the Hero this time, gripping his belts once more just as he had on top of Epona. He took a step closer toward him, gaze darting around as if the redeads would suddenly stand up from the ground and start screaming. Irrational, he knows, it's the middle of the day and bright out but his head simply couldn't unsee it. The fountain that ran read and bodies that littered the streets. The old, withered and dead leathery skinned monsters with their hallowed out eyes. Their screeching voice as they wailed and lunged for their pray—

ㅤbreathe.

ㅤBreathe.

ㅤ"The Castle looks more pointy…" a deflection, even an attempt at a joke, however Sheik's words sounded hallow even to him. Now wasn't a good time to talk about it however so he simply moved along with Link toward the gates to the Castle. They're not stopped, the Hero apparently enough of a status boost to get Sheik through the gates. He wonders if that's why he wore the green tunic. He'd become so accustomed to seeing the Hero in his work clothes that he had almost forgotten Link actually owned the fabled green tunic that Time had worn. It was rare he got to see him in it, and he still thought it looked rather nice on him. The chain mail was a nice added touch.

ㅤHe doesn't actually manage to let go of the Hero until they reach the Castle itself and for the first time—he's actually asked who he is. The guard had eyed Link but still stopped Sheik, demanding to know his name and his reason for visiting. Which he thought was fair, with the Sheikah dead at this point and only Impaz and now himself left, they don't have the position that they once held before. Still, it wasn't as if Sheik carried identification paperwork with him, or a royal seal that permitted him to visit the Royal Family. "Sheik, and I'm accompanying him." He motions toward Link and the guard actually seemed unsure of what to do for a moment. Whatever he decides, it's apparently in Sheik's favor as he lets him through the doors without further complaint.

ㅤThe throne room felt like such a hassle to get to, another long walk with various people who kept looking at them. Sheik might not have been a part of high society in a long time, but he could still recognize the clothing that fitted one from it. He'd noticed them in Castle Town too, which was yet another stark difference from the place he once knew. Hyrule, during his time, was a much more humble place. Castle Town had been smaller, with fewer people than there was now. There were those of high birth, but they still mingled with those who weren't and didn't loiter around the Castle to much. This felt—different. Like having status meant something else now. He almost wonders where it would have left his tribe, what they would have counted as. They were always seen as beneath the people of a Hyrule, even one of their tiles placed them there. The Shadows of the Hylians.

ㅤHis ears though, this time it picked up what they were actually saying. Now that the crushing panic wasn't distracting him. He heard the words whispered, the things said, and even the glances that were thrown both of their ways. The mention of his eyes, the color of them, as red as blood. That didn't unsettle or upset him. Even in his ear, it was a common topic of discussion. Ganondorf had a special nickname for him revolving around it. Blood eye. Which was also a remark as the crest of his people, the red eye of truth. So they could talk as much as they wanted about that, it would never be something that grates under his skin. At least not quickly.

ㅤIt was when he noticed the remarks they were throwing around about Link that started to truly dig beneath his skin and claw at his chest.

ㅤLink does have a very strong accent. Sheik had noticed it the moment he woke up, it's hard not to. The first time he spoke the Sheikah had been thrown, struggled to even understand him briefly. It took some concentrating, some listening, but he had quickly started to figure it out. Now, the longer he's with him, the less he actually notices it. Accents are like a foreign language in a way, once you begin to understand it you hardly notice it until someone else speaks in an entirely different way. He's long since figured the Hero out and the way that he talks, figured out what words mean what and even the different inflections in his accent that show what type of mood he's in.

ㅤIf Sheik started speaking Sheikah they'd have the same issue, but eventually even the Hero would be able to tell angry Sheikah words from regular ones. It's simply a matter of understanding the person you're speaking to and being willing to pay attention and learn. But Link's accent was also a product of where he was from, much as Sheik's first language is a product of his birth. Raised in Kakariko Village by the Sheikah Tribe leader, your language and speech is a representation of who you are and where you come from.

ㅤAnd the women gossiping along the wall clearly didn't understand that.

ㅤHe does miss a few words. The Hylian he's familiar with and the one from this ear were a bit different. It's not enough for him to not understand what they're saying though. He notes the words "scobberlotcher" and "country bum", and the giggling remark of "smells like a sewer". It's not until one of them says "bet his mother lied in a hedge" that the Sheikah felt his patience cut off.

ㅤSteps halting entirely he blinked at the passage ahead of them, inches from their goal really, took in the sight of the mark of the triforce and the statues of the golden three. And then he promptly spun on his heels to face the women. He felt his wrist grabbed, yanked it from Link's hold and then started to walk his way over toward the giggling women. Their laughter cut abruptly short at the sight of him, they even flinched away slightly, but he didn't stop walking until he was a few feet from them.

ㅤ"The only thing worse than a person who cannot respect another, is those who degrade themselves enough to gossip about another. And to do so, no less, in the Royal Castle. There is no grater way to show you lack honor and confidence in yourself than to demean another. I'd beg Hylia for forgiveness and reflect upon yourself." Turning his head away he blinked over at Link and then, after a second though, quickly looked back. "And if I hear you saying such crass things again about him, I'll rip your tongue out."

ㅤTurning away again he made his way back to Link's side and this time grabbed his wrist to proceed dragging him toward the doors to the throne room.

ㅤThey were let inside without a hassle, something he was grateful for and quickly found the person of interest right on top of the throne. She looked… different. Which was good, frankly, considering how well he knew his own Princess Zelda. Not to mention how much… Link looked like Time it was just relieving to have a face different. Though shape wise she was still there, the Royal Family lineage was clear to see in her. Physically there were a lot of differences. From her hair color, to the cut of it, to the shade of blue in her eyes, it was different enough he didn't feel like he was gazing at the past for once.

ㅤHe watched her greet Link, stayed off to the side and out of the way, they were clearly on friendly terms or at the very least quite familiar with each other. One thing Sheik realized from all the legends his family passed down, was that there was always a connection between these two. Between Princess Zelda and the Hero. A bond perhaps forged because of the Triforce, something that was keeping them together. He couldn't say it was a bad thing, but it was just always something there. Much as Ganondorf was always the enemy that they ended up facing, the third key in the prophecy that his people passed down. That top part of the symbol.

ㅤWhen the Princess turned to him he gave a bow out of respect. "Good afternoon, Your Highness. I'm Sheik, Survivor of the Sheikah." When he straightened up he met her gaze and found her eyes were actually a bit more gray than the blue he was used to. She also seemed a lot more serious and mature than the Princess he was actually used to.

ㅤThere was a distinct lack of that childlike wonder, he realized.

ㅤShe wasn't sheltered as much as his own was.

ㅤ"Hello, Sheik. I am Zelda, the Queen of Hyrule."

ㅤAnd then there was that.

ㅤIn his time, at least until he became the Sage, his Zelda never inherited that tile because the King was still alive. After time was reset, Ganondorf slaughtering him was undone and he was alive. His Zelda was being trained to inherit the title of course, but she was still the Princess. Apparently, this Zelda didn't have that luck. Time wasn't as kind to her as it had been to his own.

ㅤThey don't talk much. Link seemed primarily here on an obligatory basis. Whatever Link had done to him had not apparently been something he disclosed to Zelda either, as she seemed quite surprised there was another living member of the Sheikah Tribe. He never quite knows if she should count himself as alive or not either. He finds his position quite complicated in deciding that too. Never certain if dying and coming back to life is the same thing as being alive. Just as he doesn't know what will happen to him once he outlives his usefulness too. Not that… he believes Link will just throw him away once he helps the Hero find the answers that he's looking for. But at the same time—he's just so used to existing for a single purpose and not knowing what to do with himself once that purpose is gone.

ㅤThat was the entire reason he ended up as the Sage of Shadows, after all.

ㅤThey stay long enough that the Queen actually feeds them, or rather feeds Link while Sheik politely sat as still and tense as possible. He won't remove his mask in front of her, and thankfully no one seemed pressed to try and insist. Zelda was far more interested in talking to Link anyway, which was more than fine for him. Before they left he did ask to visit the library and possibly borrow a few books inside. Under the promise of returning them with Link the next time he visited the Castle, he had permission to borrow a few.

ㅤThe layout of the Castle was more or less still the same, which was quite beneficial to him. With only a few pauses to check his surroundings and memories, he managed to lead Link to the grand library inside the Castle. Two levels, bookshelves that reached the ceiling, more than enough room to fit any type of book that one could imagine. Sheik immediately made his way toward the back, scanning the spines of the books in the room to find the type of genera he wanted. Myths and legends.

ㅤHe searched top and bottom till he found a specific book he wanted, sliding it off the shelf and into his arms. After a bit of searching he found another he thought might be helpful and then moved toward a different section of the library. History. Specifically, he wanted the Hyrule Historia book, or this era's version of it. All eras kept their own version of it, that accumulated the histroy of Hyrule from the beginning up until their time. It ensures that the history is always passed down from beginning to end, and the original copy is kept in the vault with their ancestors.

ㅤWith the three books he wanted, Sheik returned to Link's side and informed him he was ready to go.

ㅤWhen they got back to Ordon, Link had been immediately summoned to the village for some help with some loose cattle. Never a days end without the Hero needing to rescue someone but at least the familiar task of ranching was more than likely to help him relax a bit. With him gone, Sheik helped get Epona settled back comfortably in the spring and the carried his books up into the house to look through. The first book that Sheik had taken was something that should have described the legend of the Hero of Time. It was small, smaller than he thought it should be, and the story inside he read seemed more designed for children. It was to happy, to… bright and cherry. He hadn't even finished reading it and he was more than tempted to set it on fire rather than returning it.

ㅤAfter tossing it aside he decided to instead lose himself in the other books he bought, books that should have explained him what the Twili were.

ㅤAnd explain it did… kind of.

ㅤSome of it explains things Sheik was already aware of. It talked about the Interlopers, which were words he knew. But what he knew, compared to what the book spoke of, seemed a bit different. The Interlopers were explained to be Hylian Sorcerers, who attempted to use their magic to claim the triforce and the Sacred Realm for themselves. This lead to the Interloper War, to which the Goddesses got involved and banished them for their misuse of their magic. The… drawing in the book depicted a sketch of a normal Hylian with blood red eyes and a black aura around them, something rather demonic looking.

ㅤSheik can see why someone would think the Sheikah were related to the Twili, however the Sheikah were not Hylians. Though of course that description could be wrong, the physical differences that separated a Sheikah from a Hylian were actually quite slim. It came down to just the white hair and red eyes their race was known for, which was impossible to tell in a pencil sketch. Other than the red eyes they bothered coloring. The Sheikah were known for their shadow magic, which was the reason Link had revived him, hoping his magic could connect to theirs and find a way to get him to his friend.

ㅤAccording to what he further read as well, between the two books. When the Twili lost their magic, it took a physical form. From Link, he knows this became a thing called the Fused Shadow, something he had to hunt down during his journey for Midna to help her. He supposed that implied they used shadow magic, but it was still rather hard to say.

ㅤNot without him having a conversation with one, anyway.

ㅤStill, he did have a slight idea. The thing about Sheik's family was that they were known for being able to use the shadows for which they were named. In the older times, when their magic was stronger, this meant they were actually able to move between the shadows. Sheik had never learned to use their magic to that extent, but he figure out ways to do it when inside the Shadow Temple. His power, primarily, fused better to the harp though. Which, actually gave him an idea.

ㅤThe songs Sheik taught the Hero of Time to move from place to place, had been made by someone. They weren't invented by the Goddesses, they weren't holy or godly in nature, they were just songs. Made by people who had magic, anchored in places of great magical property. If he could use the harp to write a song to either teleport them to the Twili Realm or open a portal to it, they could get there. It's not impossible, it's just not easy either.

ㅤThe only thing he had that contained magic similar to the Twili themselves was that rod Link gave him to play with and that rock. The annoying rock that turned him into a cat. Sheik moved them near him and then grabbed an few loose papers and a pencil. He started to try and make some notes, things he would need and things to keep in mind. How exactly he would be able to do this, but also if it would even work. He thinks he might need to find the Temple of Time or the Sacred Grove, to have a deeper connection to the Goddesses. Even the Shadow Temple if he could get back inside.

ㅤLost in his thoughts and work he didn't even hear Link finally come back home, not until he physically saw him standing in front of him. Raising his gaze to the Hero he was him looking at the book Sheik threw with a bowl of what was more than likely dinner in his hands. Humming softly he placed his work to the side and stood from the floor, taking the bowl from him with a soft thank you and moving over toward the table. He sat the bowl down and took a seat, tugging the mask down to settle around his neck. As Link sat across from him, he heard the Hero question what was wrong with the book.

ㅤ"A lot." The spoon was nudged around the bowl but he didn't pick it up or move to eat. "Link… the Hero of Time and I—we weren't really friends. But, we weren't not friends either, if that makes sense." They were two people on a journey together, one that Sheik abandoned him often during after telling him which way to go. It still leaves a rather sour taste in his mouth. "That book—it turns it into a whimsical take of magic, brave heroes and princesses. And it was the only book I could find that talked about him."

ㅤAnd it wasn't.

ㅤWhat Time went through, wasn't like that.

ㅤNow Sheik knew, when history was rewound, that no one would remember. Just the Princess, Time and the Sages. Not even him. So there was no one to tell the tale, to remind people of what happened, to make sure he wasn't lost to the turning of time. And he's not sure what he would have preferred. Nothing passed down or that revolting book.

ㅤ"I know it probably wouldn't bother him, but at the same time—I don't know what sort of life he lived. Happy, sad, fulfilling or not. Maybe it would bother him to not be remembered, maybe he'd rather everyone forget. Including himself." Sheik shook his head and propped his elbow on the table, resting his cheek in his hand. He gazed at the bowl of stew in front of him, mind far in the past. "I took… to long to look for him when the timeline reset, and by the time I did he was already long gone. The Great Deku Tree told me he went to find himself, and I still don't know if he ever did." Gone, far out of Sheik's reach, somewhere he couldn't follow. And at that point, he had already made up his own mind on what he was going to do. In becoming the Sage in his mother's place, fulfilling a purpose he knew how to live.

ㅤHe can guess what happened, based on how the timeline has moved. In what he knew of the Hero of Time and what he witnessed himself. But he can't know, and at this point—no one can. Not even the history books apparently. More than anything, what he really wishes to know, is simply if he was happy or not. Since that was all Sheik wanted for him.

ㅤFor Time to find his happiness.

ㅤTo not be burdened by the past forever.

ㅤ"And speaking of heroes." Sheik sat up again and turned his head back around to meet Link's gaze, dropping his hand down into his lap. "I have an idea on how to help you. Admittedly, I'm not positive it'll work, but it's the best idea I have so far. I'm not sure how long it would take me to do either, it's been a while since I've composed music."

ㅤHe does wonder, too, what happens if Link goes into the Twilight Realm and just… doesn't come back out. The Hero never told him what he wanted from there, what he was looking for. He knows he has a friend, someone he wants to see, but beyond that? This wasn't a constant thing. Sheik might be able to open the doorway once, but aside from making a free ride out of himself, Link might not be able to go back after that one time. If he finds he doesn't want to leave, if he doesn't want to return and instead stay with them, what happens then? Would Sheik die? Would whatever magic that bound him to this world stop? Or would he be left here, in this tree house, alone until he inevitably perishes again?

ㅤHe's only known the Hero half a year, and at most he's been a forced resurrected freeloader. He wouldn't even blame Link if he wanted to stay there with someone he was familiar with rather than returning.

ㅤMaybe he could ask, without making it seem like that's what he was hinting at. Just—get an understanding of Link's mental state. "What do you intend on… doing there, Link? I don't know what the Twilight Realm is like, or what it even means to go there. If creatures of light can even exist in such a place. The constraints of our agreement was that I find a way to get you there and once I do that—" once he finishes his usefulness, "do you even know what happens?" Was his payment for helping Link getting to live? Was this even a two way deal or did Link actually control how long he lives for? Were their lives maybe tied to each others now?

ㅤThere was so much to this spell that yanked him back to life that they really don't understand. And now with his worrying, his simple question had unraveled entirely. Sheik could feel how tense he was, trying not to let his mind get away from him but long since past that. Always the over thinker he was, trying to be sixteen steps ahead, worried about making the wrong choice or the wrong step.

ㅤHe hears Link shift across from him and his gaze snaps up from the soup the Hero of Twilight's eyes once again. ❝ so because my ancestor left you , you assume i'd leave you too? i dont want to be alone again. i would never leave you so please , please don’t leave me , sheik. ❞

ㅤLeave?

ㅤHe wasn't leaving him. Though he had tried to convince himself that he was perfectly fine with returning to the dead, to being nothing more than a forgot fracture on this plant. Another person lost to the history pages because they simply didn't matter and no one was left to remember them. He wasn't actually entirely certain he would have been okay with it. He's not certain he's ready to die again. Which was, perhaps, where the worry had come from.

ㅤSheik had gotten comfortable here. He had gotten comfortable around the Hero. In a way that he had never even been around Time. With how close they were to each other now, he had reached a level of comfort around Link that he had never gotten to experience back then. There was no clock hanging above their heads, no threat to the world, no calling prophecy that was attempting to damn them yet again. It was just them, in this house, working around each other. Two very completely different people that managed to somehow move around each other with almost a practiced ease.

ㅤSheik found warmth here, that's what he realized. The way they pick on each other, make sure the other is comfortable, the way they laughed and smiled at each other. Sheik had spent long nights sitting and playing the Song of Healing to make sure that Link slept without trouble and Link made sure that he still remembered to take care of himself. Even giving him clothes to borrow when he realized that Sheik literally owned one outfit. They support each other and had fallen into that role of doing so rather easily. Despite how different they were, they found common ground and a care for the other.

ㅤLink made it very easy to care about him.

ㅤ"The Hero didn't—" leave him. It's the first words that tried to escape, that he tried to explain with, but they die in his throat as quickly as they tried to escape. Did it matter if the Hero of Time intentionally left him or not? Or even accidental? Sheik wants to say that including himself in any part of that was rather egotistical, Time had a lot going on and Sheik was hardly even a raisin sized thought in his head. But it didn't matter, honestly, and was hardly the main part of what Link was saying.

ㅤTo him, Midna had left him behind, and there was clearly some unresolved upset there. It clearly bothered him to think about the fact his friends could go so far out of his reach. And that was a mutual feeling that Sheik could understand incredibly well. Whether or not Time realized it, Sheik had felt left behind. He might not have left him, but that doesn't chase away the feeling or the reminder of always watching him from behind. Pointing him in the direct he needed to go and just praying he did enough for the Hero to come back out alive. Those were distressing thoughts, the waiting should have been enough to kill him, but because of it he does understand where the other was coming from.

ㅤIt's interesting to think of Link being lonely when surrounded by so many people who cared about him. He lived in a small village but it was a warm village that cared about him deeply. On that other side, Sheik was raised in a ghost town, in the memory of his people, just himself and Impa.

ㅤIt really doesn't take much to feel like you're entirely alone and without anyone to lean on.

ㅤLetting out a soft breath he shoved his chair back and stood from the table, moving around the side of it over toward the other end where the Hero sat. He met his gaze briefly and then ran his eyes along Link's body, the green tunic that still clung to him but absent of that all to familiar hat. Which he noticed when he noticed something else. Reaching his hand up he touched the calloused tips of his fingers to Link's hair and then gently pushed them through it, brushing his bangs from his eyes as they carted further through his dark blonde locks. The motion was brief, a minute at most, but Sheik realized how thick his hair actually was. It was soft too, if slightly oily from him being out and working in the sun again.

ㅤWhen he pulled his hand back he had bits of straw in in his grip, which he then used to poke Link on the forehead with. "Where would I even go? Between you and I, I'm not overly keen on the idea of being a Sage again. Nor am I certain the Shadow Temple even stands at this point." One can't be a Sage if there is no temple to pray from. He tossed the straw onto the floor with the rest of it, he'd sweep after they were done eating, and then motioned between the two of them.

ㅤ"In any of my lives," and how bizarre is it to think he's now lived in three different lifetimes, "never have I felt as comfortable with someone as I do you." Which was true. He was content here but at the same time that does frighten him. Like waiting for the inevitable to strike, the next enemy or terrible thing to destroy that peace. "The point of my question was just to know what was going to happen next. What you were going to die. What might happen. In general, between us, in whatever way that means. It's always been my duty to be prepared. I'm not used to wandering blindly with no vision of the future."

ㅤThey should be prepared was all he was saying.

ㅤ"I like you." Sheik states, clearly and without any room for argument. "I'm very fond of you. More than I thought I would after being yanked from the dead just because you thought I could fix something. And if you want me to stick around, for whatever duration of time this spell might allow us, I would very much like to. But only if you want it, and not because you feel obligated to."

ㅤHe would like to matter, to be wanted, because Link definitely mattered and was wanted by him.