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bitchimasnake-sss · 4 months ago

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bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one pieces AUs

01. (don't) let them cook! ft. vinsmoke sanji!

there's something about forced dating that makes me feel all giddy inside. and yes, that's my excuse for writing this. no, you don't get to judge me. how about you just read? synopsis: "fuck off, vinsmoke."//"love ya too!" when you heard the words cooking competition, you only heard two things: cooking and competition. and you only had one thing in mind: to get the cash prize and open your own bakery. sounds easy enough, right? then, why the fuck was management telling you to play lovers along with that blonde, heart-eyed freak who was supposed to be your competitor? vinsmoke sanji. risking your heart and cooking skills, all in the name of "increasing viewer ratings"? what could ever go wrong with this? cw: crack, close proximity, sanji is a flirt, and you're one right back. smut in the next part you horny fucks, i promise. wc: 8.7k [the banter got out of hand... so, i wrote too much of it.] m.list

week 03. challenge: teamwork makes the dream work, fuckers!

"okay then!" jordan ramsey, the head judge clapped his hands to gather your attention. cameras rolled, the crew shifted behind the spotlight, as the judge scrutinized you all under his heated gaze.

from your peripheral vision, you could see eleven more contestants, each perched on one clean, nicely-equipped station. four people in front of you, one to your side and five more people to your back.

the blonde chef continued, "working in the kitchen is all about teamwork. you're all talented on your own, you've proved that so far. but if all of you did your own thing in an actual kitchen, the place will burn down and you all will kill each other with a butter knife."

you caught the people in front of you laughing and exchanging giddy glances, all while your stomach grew tighter and tighter. a light headache built in your temples as your stomach sunk under and under and under. oh my god, nami. why?!

"so, today's challenge will be a team challenge." the older man continued, "i will divide you all into teams of two, and you'd have to work together to make this shit work. good luck!"

and your partner was obviously vinsmoke sanji. damn. curse you, nami!

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

previously: during week 02.

your right hand ran over your left arm, trying to soothe the goosebump-ish skin. the cabin was unusually cold, and you instinctively tried to sink back further against your seat to find some inkling of heat.

sighing, your gaze darted around the cabin. you were sat at the neat mahogany desk which had a framed photo of red-head with a pretty blue-haired girl, another one of a group of odd 20-somethings with stupid hair colors, like who even dyes their hair moss green?, a few files and a neat pen-stand. the walls had been smothered with tens upon tens of polaroid photos, a whiteboard with the word STRATEGY and more storage for files.

the plaque outside the cabin had read HEAD PROJECT MANAGER: NAMI.

when you had been called to her office, you had vaguely recalled a pretty red-head of the same name from the interview round, but now you sat in nauseating suspense as your nails clacked mindlessly against the wood.

creeaak! you were pulled out of your trance by the soft groan of the door opening.

"sorry for making you wait." her bold red lipstick caught your attention before she did. heels clacking against the marble floor, statement earrings swishing with every step and red hair tied into a near ponytail, the project manager walked into the room.

as she softly sat down in the previously unoccupied leather chair, her knifelike gaze was trained on you.

pretty manicured hands came to clasp on the table and she rested her chin atop them. a polite smile made it's way on her painted lips as she addressed you, "sorry about the wait, i had to take care of something important."

"it's fine," you shook your head, hands still running up and down your cold arms, "could you tell me why i'm here?"

"of course!" nami laughed but it felt more like a formality, "but before that, how has your experience on 'master chef: all blue' been thus far?"

"oh? well," you tried to think back to your experience. thus far, only two weeks had passed by, and you had shot only four episodes in total. you had managed to survive and maintain a steady reputation for yourself in the top five.

so, all in all, "good." you concluded, "it's been going pretty good."

"that's a relief, and have you made any friends here? any connections?" nami mused, and you found yourself growing confused. you had made a conscious decision to not be buddy-buddy with anyone on the show. you were here to win, not to make lifelong friendships.

clearing your throat, you admitted, "no... not yet, i mean. why do you ask?"

"it's no biggie, let me explain," she waved her hand, giving you a persuasive smile. you nodded and nami continued, "see, the production company runs this show to make money. and the contestants, much like yourself, come here to win money. with me so far?"

you nodded once more, "good. basically, the production makes money off of you as much as you do off of it."

you were vaguely reminded of hearing about the owner of the production: sir crocodile. even the name sounded shady, you had no clue how nami worked under someone like that.

"—and i make money if everything goes smoothly."

"right?" your brows furrowed, tone growing unsure, "sorry, but what does that have to do with me?"

"it has everything to do with you." nami moved backwards, each step calculated. as her back rested against the fine leather, her fingers stayed clasped over the mahogany, "with every other contestant too, to be honest. you see, if the contestants are entertaining, the viewership goes up. and if the viewership goes up, we make money. and everyone's happy."

you scoffed, fingers clasping to mirror the woman in front of you, "we're pawns, you mean?"

"don't make me laugh." words sharp, eyes sharper, "pawns don't get the chance to win 250 grand now, do they?"

"fine, continue."

"im trying to help." her tone softened. well, no, it was more calculated now. "we've noticed from the past two weeks that you don't particularly get along with anyone. keeping to yourself, barely saying anything, only work, it seems. and that's a fucking shame cause you're clearly talented and can win this show."

your eyes widened, mouth growing dry at her unwarranted praise. suspicious. "how do you know that? it's been two weeks."

nami winked, "i am a pretty good judge of character. but..." she drawled on, "you're not entertaining, girl. you are no fun to watch. and frankly, the audience wouldn't root for a character like that! it's television, after all."

"but i'm not a character," your palms flattened against the cold, wooden desk and you leaned forward, "i'm a person."

"a person who admitted in the interview round that she wants to 'win this shit' at any cost." the red-head peered at you as if seeing past your flesh and bones, "and to 'win this shit', you need to be atleast a little bit marketable. it is television, after all."

you leaned back, eyes narrowing, "what do you want, nami? say it clearly."

"hm. just look at this once." the red-head reached for one of the files kept to her left, and carefully pulled out a black file with multiple coloured tabs. she flipped through documents before settling over one, and sliding the document to you.

"what do you think of vinsmoke sanji?" nami asked as you stared down the photo of the blonde, heart-eyed freak that was your fellow contestant.

you shuddered at the mere idea of having him around.

chants of all kinds of overtly sweet nicknames left that blonde chef's lips as if it was the same as breathing air, and no woman in his vicinity was safe. you had made it your mission to stay as far away from him as possible. his darling, love, sweetheart would not sway you! but you had to begrudgingly accept that you respected him. after all, he was in the top five consistently for the past two weeks, and that had to mean something. that something being: he was a fool, but a well-deserving fool.

"he's talented," you stared at nami, stating mere facts, "knows what he's doing in the kitchen, and is a terrible flirt."

"do you dislike him?"

"i don't feel anything in particular about him." and it was true. he was attractive, had a way with words, and knew how to work the knife. an ideal man in a cringe-fail way, you suppose. but at the end of the day, he was still a competitor. you continued, "never talked long enough to get to know him, frankly."

"let me paint a picture for ya," nami grinned, cat-like, "imagine the cold, far-removed woman falling for the overtly flirtatious man. slowly growing warmer to him, talking to him, laughing at his terrible pick-up lines. doesn't that seem entertaining?"

"perhaps it does." you paused, mulling over her words. when you spoke, your voice was thick, as if you had been asked to offer your heart, "but i presume that i'm the cold woman in the story, and sanji the overtly flirtatious man?"

"you're smart."

"thankyou," you dragged the seat back and stood up, "but i am not gonna sell my dignity for the sake of a character. i am here to cook, and i'll do that."

"ah," nami tipped her head back to look at you, "what a shame. i was gonna compensate you 5k per episode. and since we have about 2 and half more months, that's roughly 20 more episode." she sucked in a breath, "such a shame, could have made 100 grand. i believe it's a good amount of money to use for the bakery."

"huh?!" your eyes widened, "what? you'd pay me 100 grand?! for pretending?!"

"well, of course." nami nodded solemnly, "and i suppose that if your relationship did well, and we got more viewer engagement and buzz... then, who knows? maybe i could have increased the price to 10k per episode." nami stood up, sighing, "but since you don't want this—"

"—you'd pay me this amount even if i don't win?"

check-mate. nami smiled politely, "of course. we'd officially put you on a contract, make you sign a NDA, yada yada, a whole bunch of things. but—"

"okay, then!" you nodded, cutting her off enthusiastically, "i can tolerate sanji, or whoever for that matter!"

the red-head cooed, "but what of your dignity?"

"my dignity won't pay my bills." you replied coolly, "should have mentioned the price and i wouldn't have bickered so much."

"you're smart," and then the red-head grinned, "i like you. let me get the contract."

"oh," the manager cut herself off, a hand outstretched in your direction to shake it, "just one last thing."

"hm?" you clasped her soft hand in yours, "what is it?"

"say you won't fall in love."

"never will."

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

week 03. continuing the challenge: teamwork makes the dream work, fuckers!

"you're as radiant as ever, love." the man hummed loud enough to be caught by his mic as he walk past you. and hey! it's not your fault that your nose scrunched up and disgust and you threw up just a little bit in your mouth. he seemed to be enjoying this.

your brows furrowed as you hyper-focused on the bell-pepper you were chopping, refusing to look up at sanji as he softly moved past you to go sauté the onion and garlic.

nami had advised you to stay unreactive this episode. don't flirt back, but also do not start gagging every time the blonde spoke. 'it's the start of the love story of the century!' she had said, and you had been a buffoon who had nodded, thinking 'how hard can tolerating sanji be?'

very hard. because it seemed as though sanji had got the memo to be as obnoxious as humanly possible. or maybe that was just his personality?

as he chopped another shallot into paper-thin pieces, his mouth kept running and running and running, "the first time i saw you, i kept thinking that i don't think i've met someone quite as gorgeous as you. but then you were ignoring me, and i kept thinking well that's kinda hot—"

"sanji, saute these next." you cleared your throat, giving sanji a polite smile, "i'm done cutting the bell peppers."

your partner nodded, giving you a grin, "aren't you the best, gorgeous?"

"jus' doing my job, unlike you." you mumbled under your breath as you focused your direction on another task. but sanji slowly bent down, head tilting towards you to hear you better, "sorry, did you say something?"

love story of the century, my ass.

as much as the love-story had been staged, the outcome of the challenge hadn't. you two had put aside all differences and put your best dish forward, and now you stood in front of the judge as he taste-tested your meal.

"hm," mr. ramsey paused, feeling the flavours slowly. he slowly lifted his gaze to scrutinize sanji, then landed his sharp features on you. putting the fork down, and wiping his mouth slowly, he finally started talking, "i had seen a little bit of buddy-buddy thing going while cooking today."

sanji laughed and you just coyly smiled as the chef continued, "i was scared the food is gonna taste awful, and it does." he paused, and you pretended to be shocked for the sake of the cameras rolling around you, "awful...ly good, that is. so far, today, this is the best i've had."

the other contestants clapped as the two of you bowed, muttering thankyous and holding back cheeky smiles. at the end, you and sanji ended up being at the top, and were given immunity from the next day's elimination challenge.

you had exchanged congratulations and thankyous and were walking out from the filming set when you felt someone catching upto you. towering over you, all you could see from your periphery was blonde and blue.

"hey," sanji grinned, his pace slowing to match yours, voice silken, "we did pretty good today, didn't we?"

"yeah, thanks for the help." you nodded softly, focusing on making your way back to the hotel all the contestants were staying in. it was a five minute walk away from the filming set, and once everything wrapped, everyone usually made their way back and chit-chatted in the lounge. well, everyone except you.

"don't mention it." sanji cleared his throat, trying again, "uh, you don't really hangout with anyone afterhours. you okay? which room are you in, anyways?"

"you don't need to know that."

"uh, right." he nodded, attempting to continue the conversation, "well, sorry. it's just if someday i needed to get to your room, i should kno-"

"why would you need to 'come to my room'?" your eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

pervert!

"oh?" the chef spluttered, eyes widening as he tried to defend his questionable character, "i- i was jus' saying randomly. i didn-not mean to—"

per—

"—vert!" you halted, and he halted right next to you. towering over you, he was dressed in a casual white t-shirt, jeans and a blue button-up on top. the fabric softly swayed against the nightly wind as you looked up at him, "do you have no shame?! i just met you!"

"i am not a pervert! i—"

"are you a," a small gasp, hands flying to your lips as you drank in his towering form, "liar too?"

"huh?! no!" he rambled on, "no, obviously not! i am not any kind of that thing!"

maybe you were a sadist, because watching vinsmoke sanji unravel at your words, as red as a beet made you feel giddy inside. for a moment, he wasn't the suave, fast-talking ladies' man. he was just a man. how fun! and then a sickening idea grabbed you by the throat and shook you like a rabid dog. a dawning realization. you could toy around with sanji outside of set just as much as he did with on set!

"no, no" you wiggled your index finger, and he grew red at your accusations. face warming, eyes panicky, he croaked out, "what do you mean no no?!"

"i used to think that your overtly-flirtatious nature was a facade to hide behind the real you," you tsked, face drawn up into a mock frown, "but you." you pointed the index finger at him, "you, good sir, are a pervert!"

"no!" he pointed his index back at you, wild hands trying to coherently explain his character, "i am not! i am just a lover of women."

you scoffed, "lover of women? which woman loves you?!"

his jaw slacked open, "i- there are women that like me!"

and you crossed your arms around your chest, "where?" you craned your face to look around, bringing a hand to your forehead as you conducted your investigation, "cannot see them anywhere."

but fuck, what was vinsmoke sanji if not a bastard of a man?

the same index finger that had been trying to defend his character now came to pull your chin up to face him. his voice softened, "maybe you could be the woman that loves me."

eyes widening like saucers, tongue-tied. what?! whAT?!

your steps fell ahead, deliberately leaving the man behind you. you didn't even bother to turn around shouting a high-pitched, "uh, see you at set later. bye!", you disappeared down the alleyway that led to the hotel.

"atleast give me your room number!" he shouted after you as you ran to the hotel lobby with a red face and adrenaline pumping through your jelly-like limbs.

"bye." sanji replied back softly, his gaze still tangled against the spot where you stood moments ago. he could smell the sweet perfume, almost imagine the bounce of your hair as you ran away from here. and he fought back a little smile as he shouted out to the ghost of you, "uh, see ya later!"

fuck. was this the man you were supposed to fall in love with?! what a nuisance.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

next morning, 8:03 a.m.

well, if he was going to be a slick bastard, then so were you! manners be damned, he needed to come back to reality.

"morning, love." the suave pathetic blonde cheerfully greeted you as he sunk into a seat next to you at the breakfast table.

you looked up from your scrambled eggs, confused. you pointed to yourself, finger on your chest, "me?"

"who else?" he asked, digging into the waffle he had picked out for himself, "slept well, yesterday?"

"couldn't." you admitted before shoving a mouthful, "was too scared that you'd find my hotel room, pervert."

he just laughed, "the only thing i'd like to find is the door to your cold, unyielding heart, my love."

"keep searching your entire life, then."

"what's a lifetime in front of you?" he put a hand on his chest, voice pained, "i can spend my entire life just waiting for you to glance at me."

you dragged your eyes up from your plate and to him. boring your eyes into his heart-shaped ones, you paused for a moment. then another.

"i looked at you. happy now?" you went back to eating, "now shoo."

from the one moment you spent looking at him, you noticed that sleep still lingered in the cresses on his cheek, and his hair was tousled, way curlier than it was on set. and you vaguely wondered if he straightened his bangs. should you ask hi— no.

he plastered on a dopey smile, "ah, this was only one of the thousand looks i'd want from you."

"jesus christ," you muttered as you dragged your chair back, "better start counting, i'll make sure to give you a thousand glances till the finale."

he whipped his face back to grin at you, "promise?"

you made your way keep your dishes in the pile of used plates, "fuck off, vinsmoke."

"love ya too!"

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a week later, 10:53 p.m.

"someone asked me if i believed in god," sanji hummed thoughtfully, "and i replied that she's right in front of me."

"blegh!" a shiver ran down your spine, goosebump erupting on your skin violently, "please don't say things like that on national television!"

"huh?" sanji cocked his head, his hand coming to slowly feel up his stubble, wavy hair falling in front of one eye, "i thought nami-swan said to take the flirting up a notch."

nami had actually said that the relationship was coming across as staged. "add authenticity!" she said, "it'll be fun!" she said.

"i know that." you groaned, falling on sanji's bed. you two were holed up in his hotel room, trying to discuss "strategy" as nami called it. you stretched your hands and legs, toes curling as the tension slowly left your mortal body, "i know, but that's too much."

he fell on his back, laying next to you and staring up at the ceiling. his shoulders brushed against yours, and from the way sanji shuddered you were sure he felt the adrenaline pumping through his flimsy veins at 5x the speed you felt. swallowing thickly, he asked, "then what do i say?"

with 100k on the line, you had to do something!

"say nothing, have you tried that?" you answered back unhelpfully and he stuck his tongue out to retort, "how is the audience suppose to buy that?"

"love doesn't always need to be said out loud." you shrugged, using the action as an excuse to scoot away from the blonde, "i dunno, though."

"why? have you never been in love, mademoiselle?"

you laughed pitifully, a half-baked kind of sound to mask your burning face, "why are we getting to know one-other now?"

"who knows?" he grinned as he sat up, looking back at you with a certain glint in his eyes, "maybe we'd figure out how to pretend to love each other better."

when you looked at sanji like this, all big grins and tousled hair, you couldn't help but smile. he looked like a kid at the candy store and he looked at you as if you'd buy him the whole place. for a moment, you thought, if he were to smile like that, then maybe you would have bought him an entire candy store.

"have you been in love?" you asked slowly, hands coming up to fiddle with your hair.

"yes?" he tipped his head back, the blonde locks falling away from his face for once, "no. maybe not. i don't really know. how do you even classify love? cause i know i've thought about marrying quite a few women."

"just say you're pathetic." you rolled your eyes, mocking him, "'quite a few women.'"

"hey, are you jealous?" and there it was, that dopey grin again.

"no." you glared at him, sitting up, "you're just so obnoxious some times."

"you want me so bad, it's obvious." but he held up his arms in surrender lest you punch him, "anyways, what were you saying about love?"

you drawled on, trying to come up with something that made sense. eventually, pulling up empty, you muttered, "well... i've heard it's a bitch."

he laughed, and you laughed too. turning left to face him, he spoke aloud, "isn't that reassuring?"

time slowed down, the air grew thick. you and sanji looked at each-other with frozen smiles on your face. his black eyes boring into yours wordlessly, and an uncertain itch travelled up your spine. why were you two sitting so close?

gaze drifting down to his lips, you found yourself talking, "love demands sacrifice, and a lot of energy. it's hard."

but sanji was a quick-witted man, and oh, how he would be the death of you. "how can loving somebody like you be hard?"

he brought up a soft hand to your cheek, face tilting towards you. he held the inches between you, waiting for you to jump forth, grab him by the collar and kiss him till he lost all cognitive senses.

"do you straighten your bangs?"

"huh?" that seemed to break him, "uh... yeah? i like them straight."

now, why did you ask that?!

"okay, okay." you just cleared your throat, looking away and slowly shifting backwards, "well... point being, uh maybe i should start flirting back with on camera?"

"huh?" he asked softly. gaze still stuck in a haze, lips still parted in anticipation, "what?"

"about what nami said?" you emphasized, trying not to get lost in his intent gaze, "like, maybe it'll look more believable if i start flirting back."

he nodded, pulling back finally, and you questioned how much was he actually processing, "yeah, sure."

"okay, then." your legs swinged off of his bed and you stood up, "i'll see you later."

but his warm palm came to catch your wrist. warm. it made your stomach churn uncomfortably. you look down at him, tugging your wrist, "what?"

"n-nothing." he pulled his hand back to his chest, but not before tracing your rugged hands under his fingertip. his gaze fell to your knees, words dying in his throat, "goodnight. sleep well."

you nodded, wordlessly turning around to leave. pacing through the spacious room, you stood in front of the large door. your fingers hung limply around the cold, brass doorknob before you yelled at, "sanji? one last thing."

you heard heavy footsteps and the shadow of a man on your back a few seconds later. his words were hasty, tone depraved to hear what you wanted, "yes?"

"say... you won't fall in love," your voice quietened, "right?"

the pause on his end lasted a century. but when he finally spoke, his voice was thick, "never. don't worry."

"good." you turned the door-knob, opening the door with a soft creak, "501, by the way. i'm in room 501. night."

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

week 06 challenge: friends and foes!

sanji didn't really come to see you in your room, or stand outside like some creep. both things surprised you, but you held your tongue back. it is a good thing, after all! good thing he is keeping his distance!

lost in your own world, you looked down at your palms. rugged, dirtied, cuts on each square inch from your failed attempts of cooking as a child.

"—for the nth fucking time, the kitchen isn't just about doing your own thing. it is a place of compassion, comradery and team work." jordan ramsey prattled on, rubbing his hands together as he addressed the remaining eight contestants, "so today's challenge will be simple. whoever shall win's today's match is gonna get the rare advantage of making it safe and sound to the semi-finals. that's two weeks worth of immunity."

the desperate contestants in white aprons looked around, gaze darting from one to the other as they tried to sense the threat in their own kin. a few daggers were aimed at you, and you shook off the uneasy feelings by focusing on what the head chef was saying.

the judge clapped once and all eyes fell right back upon him, "kitchen is all about making good food, but also good connections. so, today, whoever so wins gets the chance to take another person with them safe and sound to the semi-finals."

your eyes shifted through the line-up of candidates as tangled against sanji's. no words were exchanged between the two of you as you went to your respective stations. you looked over your shoulder to catch the blonde's eyes, and he smiled at you softly. holding a thumbs up, you returned the gesture.

what a dork. a small smile tugged at your lips as you turned back around to look at your spotless station. wait. why are you smiling?

for a moment you found yourself growing concerned. well, it's cause of the new strategy! you're gonna try to flirt back, yes!

but your chest tightened, nimble fingers clasping together in an effort to ground yourself. you looked back once more, and found sanji still looking at you. breath hitching in your throat, you whipped your head back around. huh?! why is he still staring?

over the past few weeks, you had come to tolerate vinsmoke sanji in all of his stupid glory. a flirt, but also someone who wore his heart on his sleeve. over the past few weeks, he had stopped flirting with the other female contestants. his eyes always coming to find yours, and when he smiled, it was always directed at you. and somehow you always smiled right back at him. why was that, again?

over the past two weeks, he had taken it on himself to walk you to and from the filming set, to offer you water between takes and to listen intently when you rambled away at whatever bothered you in the kitchen today. vinsmoke sanji made your gut twist unnaturally whenever he stared down at you like you were all his. he made your head spin whenever he smiled at you like he was all yours. what a fucking nuisance.

so, obviously, you had come to the conclusion that he must be a damn good actor to make you question your sanity like this.

to distract yourself from the dawning realization that vinsmoke sanji may have been more than you were expecting, you examined the ingredients on your counter. a slight frown covered you whole. everything sour? you never were good at making sour things, and they had come to be the bane of your existence. fuck.

jordan ramsey spoke again, "today's challenge is sweet and sour. we have picked at random the flavors for you all, and you must make the said flavor the primary one in your dish." he clapped, "you have ten minutes to use the pantry and collect the needed ingredients. let's get moving, chop chop!"

the contestants scrambled from their working stations to run towards the pantry, and you found yourself in the dairy section, trying to pick up milk.

"what did you get? sweet?" sanji asked, his words suave as he tried to pick as many things as possible in one hand, "sweet just like you?"

"sour. the way my mood gets whenever you show up." you bantered back, moving around the pantry looking for unripe mangoes, "what did you get?"

"sweet. but i don't i can make anything sweeter than you, love." he picked out a carton of milk before trailing behind you. he laughed, "i guess that's my short-coming as a chef."

"ugh, you have many shortcomings as a chef other than that." you mumbled, finally picking out two unripe mangoes.

"huh?" he leaned down to hear you better, tone so terribly cocky, "you mumble a lot, you know? sometimes, i wonder if i'd miss your feelings cause you're mumbling, gorgeous."

"my feelings right now is that can't we trade? i am terrible at cooking anything sour, i can never get the taste right." you looked over at him, and he froze as soon as you made eye-contact. you waved your hand, finding yourself growing concerned, "hey? hey? you okay, sanji?"

"huh?" stuttering, looking away from you, "i- sorry. but uh, let's try our best, gorgeous."

damn. he was good at acting. the way he looked down at you, irises practically hearts with the way he took you in, and a soft blush across his face as he tried not to drop the collected items in his hands.

well, the cameras were already rolling, might as well make a show of it. so, you found yourself on your tip-toes, your soft, concerned voice against the shell of his ears, "you're blushing too hard, everything okay?"

his eyes widened at the soft pangs of air on his neck, and he pulled back instinctively, "uh— sorry." he dropped the small box of strawberries, "s-shit, what's happening to me."

"you two lovebirds okay?" the judge laughed, "vinsmoke you look like you're about to burst open."

"s-sorry, chef." the blonde knelt down to clean the mess he had created, and you bent down to help him. your foreheads bumped and you felt him shudder as your pinky brushed against his.

"sorry, sorry." mumbling, he stood quick, way too quick. you were still on the floor as he mumbled a thanks and scrambled back to his station.

"you're welcome?" you whispered, still looking at where the man once knelt. your heart grew heavy at his absence, and you tried to ignore the way your chest tightened as you walked over to your cooking station.

when you looked back at sanji, his brows were burrowed as he stared down at the ingredients. your chest tightened more as you dragged your gaze away from him. what was he doing to you?

12:04 p.m.

vinsmoke sanji one the challenge. he muttered a faint thanks as chef jordon pinned an immunity pin to his white coat. patting him on the back, the older chef spoke again, "good job, vinsmoke. now it's your turn to choose a partner you wanna save."

your gaze drifted downward, too scared to meet his eyes. the blonde chef cleared his throat, "uh... the person i wanna save is..." the next thing you heard was your name and reluctant claps from the other six contestants.

your eyes widened, cheeks flushing a deep red as you looked up to stare at sanji. you expected him to smile, to make a cocky remark, but he just met your eyes with same flushed cheeks.

the judge laughed, beckoning to you him, "knew he would pick the lady who has got him all tongue-tied. get up here, and get your immunity pin!"

"thank you."

12:52 p.m.

"this feels wrong," you mumbled, not looking up at the man next to you, "so, so very wrong."

"why?" he asked back. since the pantry incident today morning, sanji had recovered fully into his unabashed, perverted self, "would you have not picked me if you had won, pretty?"

"of course, i would have." and it surprised you how easily those words came to you. you turned to face sanji, "but only cause i know nami would have wanted us to..." you paused, "pick each other, and not- not because of any other reason! it's for the viewership!"

"i know," he nodded, and his hair shone under the overhead sun. face casted under melancholic shadows, he concluded, "it's the same for me, so, don't feel so guilty. this is good for making people think we're together."

"maybe." you two were walking back to the hotel, talking amongst each-other as you crossed the busy road. you fidgeted, "but i don't wanna be in your debt."

"well," the blonde stretched his arms upwards, the muscles of his bicep straining under the button-up, "i mean, you can always pay me back. but just being in your ever-radiant presence alone is a cathartic expe—"

what does that pervert mean now?!

"what do you mean?!" and your words came out more accusatorily than you intended. eyes flaming as you stared up at him, index finger jabbed square in his chest.

you felt the firm muscle underneath and pulled back when your stupid brain suggested to feel him up more. the picture of a flushed-face sanji under you, top off, flashed in your mind and you shook your head wildly to let the image out of your filthy brain. were you growing just as perverted living with him?! how terrible!!

you started walking again. fast. and stumbling over your words like a drunkard, you tried again, "uh- what do you want?"

he held up his arms, long legs falling in tandem with your rushed steps, "i meant like you could buy me a drink or something maybe?"

"oh?" you looked at him, dumbfounded, "just drinks?"

"huh?" a smug grin tugged at his lips, and he shrugged, "wanna pay me back some other way? i wouldn't be opposed to it—"

"—no!" you pushed him away, rushing to get into the hotel lobby, "no! obviously not." collecting your keys from the reception, you called him over your shoulder, "just uh, text me the details of where you wanna meet. okay?"

12:55 p.m.

"—but is it correct?" your tone was hasty and the red-head laughed, "yeah, totally. i can send some paps to take staged photos of you two walking into the bar. they'll click a few shots, leak them and voila! tiktok edits of you two will start circulating. it'll be soo good for business."

"so, you want me to agree to go out for drinks with him for the sake of more engagement?" you huffed, sinking down on the soft mattress, "that's coldhearted."

"hey, you are the one who asked if you can go with him." you could almost imagine the red-head sinking back into her leather chair as she spun up some idiotic genius scheme, "and i'm saying i can use this opportunity to further your relationship thingy. say 'thanks nami!'"

"thanks, nami?" you mumbled and she laughed, "have fun with your date today! let me know the details and i'll send the paps!"

before you could explain that this wasn't a date! you were just repaying favours! nami cut the call.

you swiped through your messages to see sanji's unread ones. it read:

VINSMOKE SANJI: 12: 54 uh, mclaren's pub tonight? 12:54 does 8 work for you? 12:54 it's nearby, we can walk. idm. 12:56 sorry about the triple-texting, i swear i'm not desperate. 12: 59 okay maybe a little desperate but uh, see you at eight.

mclaren's was the bar a street away from your hotel. since all the shooting sets were nearby, packed into one neat hub in the grand LAX, the filming crew, management and occasionally, the contestants got to frequent the bar. it was a selective pub, only letting people with specific IDs in.

YOU: 12:59 yeah, eight works fine. see you down at the lobby.

VINSMOKE SANJI: 1:00 can't wait, gorgeous. 1:00 i mean i can wait, don't worry. 1:01 sorry that sounded like i am forcing you to be on time. i don't mind punctuality. 1:01 i do, but only in the kitchen. sorry about that.

jesus christ. you almost snickered at how pathetic sanji was at texting.

YOU: 1:01 don't worry about it, see you then.

no sooner had the text been sent that you found yourself falling back on the mattress. as your back bounced, you stared down the ceiling in an unfair staring contest. hands dragging over your face, and an ungodly groan left you.

increased viewership be damned! you were just doing this for your extra 100k.

8:03 p.m.

"hey!" sanji greeted you with a grin as you found him at the hotel's entrance. he was dressed in a white tshirt, a casual blue overshirt and jeans. you smiled back, nodding in acknowledgement, "hey."

"you're so gorgeous that sometimes i truly think i might be dying each second over and i come alive only long enough to look at you once last time." sanji smiled, offering you a hand as you crossed the road.

you eyed his hands; neat, pristine hands. hands made just for preserving the art of cooking, it seemed. as your weary palms met his warmer ones, your voice grew weak, "do you say that to every woman you meet?"

"huh?" his brows furrowed, pretty lips falling into a pout, "no, of course not. every pretty lady gets her own individual line. i'm not like those cheap loverboys that uses the same card a million times."

you found yourself glaring at him, and he squeezed your hard gently in return, "how considerate of you."

but your gaze melted into nothingness when he smiled again, his blonde locks swaying under the strong autumnal winds. how pretty.

get a grip. you pulled your arm over your waist, looking for an inch of warmth against your own accursed touches as you walked next to the man you were to love. you hummed, "oh, by the way nami said that she'd send some paps to get our photos."

"did she?" the blonde asked earnestly, hands softly squeezing yours as he led you through an alleyway to reach the pub, "why?"

you found yourself shrugging, more focused at the way the his back muscles pulled and pushed under the shirt. his hand was gently holding yours, guiding you as he walked in front of you. you mumbled, "who knows? must be some business thingy."

"she's smart though, isn't she?" sanji's voice swooned, hands clasping as he fondly remembered the red-head and her assets. and you felt a bitter pang in your chest, the kind that permeated your bones and made your skin crawl inwards.

huh? what was that? jealousy?

you shook your head. no. it's just cold. holding yourself harder, "yeah, she is."

you're not sure at which point paps were to take your photos, so, as a precaution you pressed yourself to sanji's side. leaning against his firm biceps, you caught your intertwined hand with the other one.

"wh-what is it?" the blonde asked softly, and something about the waiver in his voice made you feel he might have a nosebleed at the fake physical touch.

"they might take pics whenever." you admitted more into the material of his sleeve than to the man that towered above you. "i'm just trying to stay prepared."

"uh huh, yeah." he nodded, head almost falling off at the rate he was nodding, "uh... you can hold onto me."

you looked up at him, only see him unraveling at your skimming touches. fighting a grin, "don't mumble, sanji. someday you might confess and i might miss out on it."

"if i confess, i'd do it with all my heart and soul. and at a good place." prideful words, "not in a shabby alleyway right this."

"hm? really?" your nose scrunched up, cheek resting against his well-defined bicep, "is that line new or did you recycle, loverboy?"

a gasp left him and you almost rolled your eyes at his dramatic nature. sanji huffed, "i would never dishonor someone as radiant as you with a recycled line."

"how very considerate of you."

11:55 p.m.

"sanjiii," your sweet words slurred just a teensy tiny bit, weak hands stopping him from downing another shot, "don' drink so much."

"but we have no shooting for the next two weeks! huzzah!" he defended himself, raising his hand to order four more shots.

"no, no. sanji, you dumb-dumbass!" you stressed, but made no effort whatsoever to send back the waitress carrying the four shots on a tray.

you two were huddled in one of the far-off, darkened booth of mclaren's pub. edm played in the background, and from your unstable vision you could see sea of bodies push and pull against each other. the neon lights painted them all in blasphemous shades of sin; grinding, kissing, leaning on each other.

you dragged your blurry vision back to sanji.

the blonde in front of you had slumped backwards. pretty lips agape and a delirious smile on his lips. you tilted your head slightly, leaning forward and forward till your foreheads could touch.

"ahaha, what're you doin'?" the chef laughed, bringing up a finger to flick at your forehead. and you fell back, as if taking 5x damage from his light touch.

putting both your hand on your forehead, you felt up the light thump, thump, thump of an impending headache. you huffed, "nothin'. was doin' nothin' at all, loverboy."

"is-ish that nickname gonna stick?" he huffed in return, pulling another shot-glass to his lips and downing the liquid in one swift go. you looked on, hyperfixated, at the way his adam's apple bobbed and a little bit of liquid spilled past his lips, down his chin and onto the table.

"i dunno, loverboy." you replied honestly, leaning forward to grab another shot for yourself. the glass felt delicate in your grasp, as if one wrong breath and it'll shatter up. downing the liquid, you hissed as the warm fluid left an ungodly sting down your throat and chest.

he remain unmoving, gaze fixed against the low-cut of your top.

"sanji," you repeated, tugging his sleeve to bring him out of his daze, "are you listening?"

"huh?" he blinked, bleary gaze being broken from your tits to come rest against your pretty face. he didn't listen what you were saying, more like he couldn't.

look, vinsmoke sanji knew he was perverted. but how could he not stare you down when your pretty tits were right there! and the way you licked your lips to collect the last remaining drops of the alcohol on your painted lips, it made him imagine the way he would kiss you. what would you taste like? like the same alcohol on his tongue? or something much more recklessly divine?

"d'you think people believe th-that we're like... a couple?" he asked absentmindedly, nimble fingers offering you another shot, "li-like is it believable?"

"yeah," you nodded. you guys weren't allowed phones, or any other piece of technology. you all had been giving phones with just each other's contacts, contacts of the managing team and emergency numbers. technically, all you knew about the world was through nami right now.

"really?" he asked, dumbfounded and you nodded harder, "isch... isch 'cause you're good at pretending to be in love or- or whatever." you found yourself laughing, "sometimes i feel like you can even fool me."

"hm?" sanji stared you down, "fool ya?"

you shook your head, holding up a palm to explain yourself further, "sometimes you look at me like ya love meee." you giggled, "but i know isch not true, you're just good a-at acting."

"no- no, i'm not." now he shook his head, strong, warm hands interlocking against yours, "i think you're sho pretty."

you attempted to crush his hand, not buying his bullshit, "ya think every girl with tits an' ass is pretty, vinsmoke."

"using the family name?!" he mumbled, distraught, "d'ya hate me?"

"nooo!!" you softened your touch against his palms, "i like ya... i think?"

"huh?" he grinned, maddened, "f'real?!"

"uh-huh, uh-huh."

"YOU TWO!" a shrill voice cut between you two. the red-head grabbed both of your ears with a pinch of her manicured fingers, "IT'S ABOUT TO BE TWELVE. GET YOUR ASSES BACK TO YOUR ROOMS."

"ouch ouch ouch—" you both hissed as she dragged you out of your booth. finally letting go, she grumbled on, "honestly, what the fuck am i? your bodyguard?! get a grip, and head back!"

she called out to some zolo? zoro? wowonoa wowo? you're not sure, but a strong moss-headed man held you two by the shoulders and softly led you out into the cold, bitter night.

"who are you?!" sanji hissed, shimmying off the man's touches, "mosshead!"

"don' be mean." you hit sanji's upper arm, turning around to smile at the uptight man, "sorry 'bout him... he's dumb."

your voice turned down into a whisper, so that sanji couldn't hear you, "an' he only cares about woman. he's a pervert!"

the man looked amused, half-snickering, as he followed nami and led you two back into the hotel lobby.

once inside the warm, familiar lobby, nami flicked you two with her indexes, "dumbasses. both of you! when you said a drink, i didn't think you'd get wasted."

"nami-swan~" sanji cooed, hands rubbing together as he smiled at the manager, "you're so cute even when you're mad."

and hey, you were drunk! so, surely it's not your fault when you 'accidentally' stepped on sanji's foot. and then again, and then one more time.

"aishhh~" he hissed, bringing his left calf up, "what?!"

"go to bed. both of you." nami sighed, rubbing circles into her temple, "zoro can you take them to their rooms?"

"huh?!" the man sounded surprised, "do i work under you?"

the manager hissed back, "yes, you do. technically. now, zoro."

the man named zoro grumbled but grabbed sanji by the collar and you by the elbow anyways. as he led you two down the hallway that opened into the elevator, he whisper-yelled back at the red-head, "say you'd forgive my loans now!"

"never." the red-head whisper-yelled back, "take them away. i need to go handle pr now. these fuckers will make me age at 2x speed."

"bye nami!" you waved as zoro shoved you and sanji into the elevator. grumbling, he asked you your hotel rooms and before you knew it, your face was pressed against the neat, white pillowcase and your eyelids were heavy.

1:39 a.m.

knock knock knock.

you opened the door to a very far-gone looking sanji. he grinned as he pushed past you and stumbled into your room, "ni-nish room."

"ugh," you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes, and tried to pray away the steady headache building in your temples, "whaddya wan'? 'was sleeping."

the blonde turned around, a steady hand on your cheek and the taste of alcohol on your lips.

"wha-" another hand came up to cradle another cheek, lips pressing against you as he drank down any semblance of sanity you retained.

pushing you back till you were against the door, his tongue pushed past your pretty lips. warm. he felt warm, from the tip of his fingers splayed against your cheeks to how his knee was pressed against your core, the way he kissed you.

he kissed you. vinsmoke sanji just kissed you!

bug-eyed, sobered, you watched as he pulled away. licking his wet lips, a stupid smile on his face. but before you could ask him questions, or worse, take his shirt off, the blonde turned around. saying nothing, he just flopped down on your bed and pressed his face on your pillowcase.

huh?!

"what are you doing?" what was that tone of yours? apprehensive? scared? excited?

but he just beckoned you over with a sloppy shake of his right palm.

"what?" you mumbled as you trudged and stood next to him on the mattress. your voice hardened, "i'm not fucking ya like this, 'm tired— w-wait what?"

a strong hand tugging your wrist so that you fell atop him. strong arms enveloping your waist, and hot, steady breath on your forehead as sanji snuggled next to you. you could smell the expensive alcohol on his lips, the liquor-induced haze in his eyes, as he pulled you flush against himself.

"couldn'- could-" he hiccupped, "couldn't sleep alone. let stay li-like thish."

and how could you deny him when you wanted nothing more than to stay like this?

you found yourself burying your face against his white t-shirt, smelling in the french cologne he always wore. on a high of your own, you mumbled against his clothes, "you smell... nice."

but the man was out of it. before you could even get the sentence out, you heard soft snoring from above you. easy rise and fall of his firm chest against your face, strong arms caging you in. and all you could think as you fell asleep was: what a fucking nuisance. well no, all you could think of how warm he felt, how right he felt against you.

vinsmoke sanji will be the death of you.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

next morning, 9:41 a.m.

"jesus christ," nami found herself muttering as she saw you and sanji tangled together - just a mess of sheets, and limbs, and stupid decisions, "what's the one thing i ask people? to not fall in love. what's the one thing they do? they fall in love."

"they could've fucked with no feelings though?"

"you shut up." she glared at the man next to her, "i told you to drop them at their own rooms."

"i did." zoro hissed, crossing his arms as a defense, "that blondey love-cook has legs. he obviously just walked over. what am i supposed to do? guard him all night?"

"but what are we even looking at?" a raven-head boy chirped up next.

"luffy," nami groaned, "you wouldn't understand."

as the red-head turned on her heels, pacing the room while assessing the damage, zoro decided it was his turn to be educational.

"uh," the mosshead tried to come up with an explanation, "when real feelings get involved, it gets harder to predict what people will do next."

"so?" the bug-eyed boy asked, still confused at why his friends were this upset that two strangers probably fucked.

"so, it means i cannot just give them memos and ask them to pretend anymore!" nami groaned again, still pacing, "they'd get their feelings involved, ruin the trajectory of the story and then, all my work goes down the drain! crocodile won't give me a raise! this is the worst."

"worry not." luffy put a hand on nami's delicate shoulders, giving her a wide smile, "i can jus' ask dad to give you a raise, nami."

nami patted luffy's hand, giving him a sympathetic smile, "thanks, luffy. but croc will kill me if i asked you for help."

zoro asked earnestly, "if you die, will my loans be forgiven—"

"—no. obviously not. i'll send vivi after you."

"dammit."

the commotion was enough to wake you up. you sat up, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. your blurry vision raked over the room, from the blonde chef passed out next to you to the three people in front of your bed. wait, three people?!

wide-eyed with a terrible headache, you asked, "what are you guys going here?!"

nami cocked her head to look at you, "cleaning your mess."

"wh-what?" but before you could even organize your thoughts, nami leaned forward to meet your eyes in a heated gaze, "tell me one thing. you remember how much i offered you?"

"yes? 100k?" you swallowed, and she peered down at you like a hawk, "good, so, your memory doesn't fail you. now, do you remember what you promised me?"

"yes?" you tried to avoid her gaze, voice shaking, "d-don't fall in love?"

"good. so, don't fall in love."

shit.

a/n: yes, a part 02 will be up sometime soon. i'm too dumb and always think one part is enough but it never is ugh. thankyou if you've read so far. ilysm!! may you get some cold, hard cash as a reward hotties mwuah <3 tagging: @mist-ixx @otkuhotgirl m.list

#the op aus series <3 #one piece #sanji smut #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader smut #op #opla #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #one piece smut #op smut #opla smut #vinsmoke sanji smut

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vqnrouged · 4 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 : pattadol

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : a run in with a succubus reveals your feelings for your fellow canary, just how will she react to this new information?

𝐚/𝐧 : this is inspired by my friend dais’s ( @daistea ) fic that she wrote with mithrun and kabru! i heavily recommend you read it cause it’s a favorite of mine! anyway, hope you enjoy!

the soft crunching of the dirt below you was sickeningly loud, it echoed through the cavernous area that was this dungeon. though, you were thankful for it. between you and your companion, there were barely any words spoken aside from a few related to the mission at hand. little small talk, little jokes.

this wouldn’t be the first time you had been sent on a mission with pattadol, in fact there had been countless times where it was decided that the two of you would be best suited for certain tasks. it was odd to you. when the time came that you had to work together, pattadol was quieter than usual. she didn’t seem to act that way with your fellow canaries, so naturally you thought that she didn’t like you. but, you definitely liked her.

there was something charming about the elf, maybe it’s the way her golden hair trickles down her shoulders. or could it possibly be her kind persona, her tendency to smile at you and greet you in the mornings certainly does make the start of your days a little brighter. perhaps it is her reaction to panic over you whenever you get hurt. she's always been gentle when she uses her healing magic to mend you. there were so many little things, or instances, that made you like, no, love her. even if you tried, you don’t think you could remember which exact moment had made you fall in love with her in the first place. maybe you were too in love with her.

as you passed through another archway in the dungeon, a drop of water dripped directly onto your head. the sudden splash of cold on your scalp made you shiver, the feeling like tiny needles stabbing you. with a groan, you walked faster to catch up to your partner who was just a ways ahead of you to hopefully avoid more water. as you speedily made your escape from the dripping ceiling, you began to take in more aspects of the path you were traveling. the smell of moss was fresh in the air, and so was the stench of death. neither of those came as a surprise, after all this dungeon was an ancient graveyard. but the nauseating feeling that you were walking over someone's grave gave you the heebee jeebees.

then suddenly, pattadol came to an abrupt stop at a wall with a patch of elven runes. with a relieved smile, she glanced at you over her shoulder and motioned for you to come closer with her free hand. her other hand held a scroll and a piece of charcoal, one that was used previously in the day for your other rune rubbings. “here, these are the last ones we need,” she said, then she began her work. a small smile etched itself onto your face, the relief that pattadol had expressed was definitely reciprocated.

as a precaution, you stood behind her to watch for monsters. your eyes traveled across the room searching for any signs of a disturbance, but you were met with nothing out of the ordinary. a part of you was relieved that there appeared to be nothing, but you knew something was amiss. dungeons are the type of place where monsters run rampant, meaning that more than likely you will run into a fair share of them. it was too quiet, too calm. there had to be someone or something hiding in the shadows, stalking and waiting.

that inkling in your gut only worsened as a few minutes passed by, the feeling turning into pain as your anxiety increased. you wanted to warn pattadol, but if she panicked then that would alert the monster that you were now aware of it’s presence. all you could do is continue to stand guard and keep your eyes peeled.

from behind you, the elf finished up the rubbings of the runes. normally, the process wouldn’t take as long but pattadol wanted to take her time. the charcoal had to be layered to make sure that the writing was clear, and she didn’t want to disappoint her superiors by turning in lackluster work. but, finally her charcoal was able to be put down. taking in a large deep breath, she blew some air at the paper to get rid of any stray charcoal dust. then her lips turned up into a triumphant grin as she admired her work. “the rubbings are done, [name]. we can go back to the surface now,” she proudly announced.

you took a quick glance at her, then turned your gaze back to continue watching the shadows. “great, now let’s hurry. there’s something off about this area,” you frowned.

pattadol quickly began to roll up the scroll, the fear that something was indeed watching you made the hair on her neck stand up. she made fast work of it and was back on her feet within a short time, hands holding the scroll close to ground herself instead of panicking. sadly, that didn’t last for long.

a loud thud came from the direction whence you came from, and whatever it was that had fallen was most definitely coming your way. your eyes widened at the footsteps, what could it be that was making that noise? you hadn’t seen any adventurers on your descent through the dungeon, so it couldn’t be a human. if it wasn’t a human, then what was it? a zombie? but their footsteps would be slower than what you could hear over your racing heartbeat.

behind you, pattadol was beginning to lose her cool. her eyes were widened with confusion, and her teeth were gritted to stop herself from letting out any unnecessary noise. “what was that?” she asked.

just as the girl uttered those words, a sweet scent came wafting through the air. it smelled familiar, like something from home. but, how was that possible? you were nowhere close to home. you were thousands of miles away from there. it all confused you, what could mimic this specific scent? then it occurred to you, there was only one monster that could do that. “a succubus,” you grimaced. “stay behind me.”

then, a figure stepped out of the shadows. the sight made pattadol gasp in shock.

the first detail you noticed was what it was wearing, a canary uniform. the pieces that made up the uniform were just as the average canary would wear, a tunic, a pleaded skirt, and a green cloak. but there was only one canary that you knew of that wore pants like this figure did, pattadol. however, there was a distinguishing detail that let you know that this was not your pattadol. it held a look of desire, the kind that had a longing for someone. perhaps this was what your subconscious thought of her, you wanted her to look at you that way. you narrowed your eyes at the creature, it disgusted you how it took advantage of its victims like this.

the succubus was getting closer now, only a few yards stood between you. now was the time to act, so you reached for your sword. the fast unsheathing of the blade seemed to make the monster more alert, and it’s body moved at a fast pace to get close enough for an attack. the sudden difference in the monsters movements took you off guard for a moment, but you quickly came back to your senses to try and land a hit. sadly, it was futile. as you tried to ground yourself once again, the succubus went in for a swing. you quickly moved to the right and used your sword as a guard, eyes still trained on it.

this continuous pattern of swinging and dodging went on for a few moments, then finally the monster managed to make you fall to the ground. small pieces of rock dug into your skin, the feeling ten times worse due to holding your sword for a long period. from above you, something began protruding out of the succubus’s hand. a needle-like appendage had appeared, and it was coming straight toward you. your feet moved to scoot your body further away from the creature, but it still persisted to get closer to you. the needle was hovering just over your arm, then there was a sudden yell from a few feet away from you.

pattadols fairy had been transformed into its staff form, and it was aimed right toward the succubus. the serious look on her face was one of anger as well as panic, she was going to cast a spell. the spell was more than likely going to hit both you and the succubus if you didn’t move quickly enough, so she hastily shouted. “[name], watch out!”

as the spell was cast, you shuffled your body away as the creature tried to follow you. however, a bright light appeared behind it and crashed straight into its body, blowing up the succubus. the sight made your eyes widen, now the monster was nothing but bits of flesh. you looked up to pattadol, who looked just as shocked as you did. her breathing was uneven, clearly she hadn’t had to use that spell before and had to get her bearings back.

after she took a moment to breathe, pattadol immediately ran over to check on you. the pain in your hands turned into a throbbing sensation as you waited for her. you probably would’ve noticed the pain before if you didn’t just almost get killed by a succubus. the girl kneeled beside you, placing her hands on your shoulders to hold you still. her eyes frantically searched for any obvious injuries. “are you okay?! are there any cuts or bruises?” she worriedly asked.

lifting your hands from the ground, you showed her the small cuts from the rocks. you were a bit embarrassed by how easily the succubus had overwhelmed you so you turned your head in shame and gave her a quiet mumble. “just a few from falling on the ground, but nothing major.”

the girl was quiet for a moment, then she grabbed your hands to get a good look at the injury. you were right, it was a minor injury. but it made her feel guilty, if she had acted faster then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all. her eyebrows furrowed just looking at it, and her lips turned into a frown. she was ashamed too.

noticing that she hadn’t begun to heal you, you took a glance at her. her downcast expression made you feel awful, it was like a puppy had just been kicked. so you tried to be positive to cheer her up. “don’t worry, pattadol. it’s not like i broke my arm.” you smiled.

her lips pursed, then she reached for your hands. she muttered a healing spell, which efficiently healed your injury. “still, you could’ve gotten badly injured by that monster,” she said, and let go of your hands.

there was no fighting against that, it was true. if pattadol hadn’t been there, you would’ve been turned into baby succubi food. that reminded you, the succubus. it took the form of pattadol. the real pattadol had seen what your true desire was, her. were things going to be different between the two of you now? did she feel the same way? the thought that she wouldn’t want to speak to you again after this incident made you worry, you didn’t want that to happen. so you approached the topic with caution. “so, about the form the succubus took…” you started reluctantly.

pattadol looked at you for a moment, then glanced around the room to avoid eye contact. she opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again as a blush spread across her cheeks. she seemed hesitant, like she didn’t know the right thing to say. her fingers twiddled with each other, dancing across the silence that was between you. then she finally let it out. “i return your feelings.”

your eyes widened, you seemed to be doing that a lot today. “you do?” you asked.

“yes.” she said, now looking you in the eyes.

a joyful smile stretched across your face. you then pulled pattadol close into a tight embrace, making her yelp with surprise. she eased into the hug, reciprocating your embrace. she could feel you mumbling something against her shoulder as she hugged you tighter. “you don’t know how happy this makes me, pattadol.”

she smiled over your shoulder, then heard a groan coming from you. she pulled back from the hug and lifted a hand to your forehead. your temperature felt hotter than normal, it must be the side effects from her healing spell. now wasn’t the time to discuss your relationship status. so, pattadol hoisted you up on your feet and slipped an arm around your waist to help you stand. you tried to insist that you didn’t need help, but pattadol wasn’t having it. “let’s just get back to the surface, we can talk about this more when you aren’t feeling sick.” she said.

@𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 - please do not translate or copy my works.

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touyas-multi-purpose-saline · 28 days ago

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DAY XXVIII. — DACRYPHILIA

cw: Dacryphilia, Post-MHA, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Past Abuse / Manipulation / Violence, Gross Descriptions of Bodily Fluids, Vomit, Begging, Yandere Undertones, Mind-Broken Behavior, Dub-Con, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: Oh, yes. I definitely enjoy Post-MHA Overhaul. It really reveals his true character, in my opinion. It goes to show everything was a persona and that he's never had a chance to be a true him. I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.2k words.

Part of you starts to wonder what you ever did to deserve a fate like this.

There’s an inkling of a memory, but it’s so faint, and you try to wink it out of your mind. You were in the wrong place, wrong time, meddled in business that wasn’t yours to begin with because you assumed there was some injustice happening, and then your life was forever altered. You were sent spiraling down a path away from humanity so far that you couldn’t even turn back around, the tide too strong, impossible to beat the oars to shift around, and you’ll keep sinking into heavy white caps. The horrors that you had seen, the times you were strapped down and helpless, the explosions of men who took the wrong step, crumbling dirt, the crying from a little girl that you couldn’t do anything but walk away from, a lock that clicked, the final chord to your freedom as your bedroom door closed.

Maybe you should have fought back harder. Maybe you should have just lunged forward, teeth and claws bared, and ripped into whatever you could snag. Maybe you should have struggled until death cinched down your throat. Maybe you should have found a way to get yourself killed.

That’s what you did to deserve a fate like this—you stood around uselessly, frozen and powerless, and what did it give you?

A man laying atop of your body, head awkwardly buried within the crook of your neck, floundering over your nude body, pressing against your chest and belly in uncomfortable ways. His weight was odd, like he didn’t know how to move right anymore, like he was trying to find a way to roll himself into you that would make him disappear. Deep, deeper, and his breath hiccups in odd quarter notes between each thrust, each gasp he swallows. He’s never felt sloppier. You tilt your head to the side, wincing with each sharp thrust.

“A-Angel. Angel. A-A-Ahhh… nnaa, —gel.”

Over and over, like a mantra, like he never learned how to say any other words than that. That’s all he ever does anymore. Only says a few phrases, like he’s lost everything in him. I’m sorry. I failed. Forgive me. Angel. Over and over and over, and you’re starting to forget any poetry your tired and bleak mind ever lapped at. Can you wither with someone? Can you intertwine your bodies like overgrown weeds, mottled sap and moss across dusty windows, vines that twist with thorns, compressing to the lee of the stone? Is that what you desire most? Is that what you want? Would it be easier if you let your mind run silly and lose all comprehension just to be able to handle each thrust? Each moan? Each kiss? Each angel? How much longer can you hold off that inevitable?

“Angel. Sorry. I can’t hold myself up.”

You shake your head dismissively.

“It’s okay, Kai. Let me help you.”

Both of your hands leave his back, loosening, and Kai sucks in a shallow breath, accidentally leaning forward a bit too much to maintain your touch, but you just groan and squint your eyes. You can feel the liquid from his face, the wine and vinegar, it’s all over your neck and collar bone. He’s so gross. It’s going to be so gross to look at him again. He’s so solid, teeming with pathetic acceptance, all his will lost, and it strains your wrists whenever you try to hook your hands underneath his armpits and lift him. Your thumbs swivel to push, your hips meet his in rhythm for a few swings, and your knees pinch together to hoist your bodies up and together. Your back slams noisily against the pillow and headboard, but the pain doesn’t even register. All you can focus on is Kai’s face.

So gaunt, so shadowy, so hollow. Those once beautiful eyes wide and spacey, golden ambers dulled into earthy pebbles. His long lashes flutter, decorated by large pearls, by tears that stream down the apples of his face. Torrential rains that flood into his snot and drool, thick and soupy, and you try to stifle the look of disgust that crosses your face whenever it congeals and starts to splatter across your body. He’s so gross. Maybe he was always this gross.

You can’t believe you ever fell in love with him.

“A-Angel—”

Oh, how romantic Kai sounds now. So needy, finding ways to groove himself into your embrace, your body, and his sex grows faster. All of your teeth are chowing down on your inner mouth, the walls tender and fruity, and you can feel a few splinters pop in the aftermath, iron sour. The head of Kai’s cock pierces in ways that you’d never think possible, stumbling over the ridges of your cunt, and you can’t help when you’re screaming behind a glued mouth. He’s crying, Kai is crying. He always cries when you have sex. You hate it. He tries to be tender, he tries to lay into you gently, he tries to find ways to make this seem like a slice of heaven—but you just think he’s a messy little boy who’ll throw up on your breasts after he cums and then lay his head atop his own filth while he begs you to tell him that you love him until he passes out.

And with each passing thrust, you start to dwell on it. The longer you think, the further the dome of your head digs into the wall, the happier the thought makes you. Kai crying. No matter how pursy or slovenly Kai becomes with each gyration of his hips, with every deep moan that revs in the back of his throat, with the way he shoves himself forward to meet your static lips in a sloppy kiss. His sticky snot, opaque and stringy, dances across the brow of your lips, dangles down your faces, meets in the middle, and he’s working his jaw in rhythm with his thrusts. All of it is combining in your mind, and it makes you feel so giddy, and you realize you’ve finally lost it. You don’t love Kai anymore, but hearing him cry, apologize, make a mess of himself upon you, begging, fucking you, births glittery butterflies dancing within the cavity of your belly and you start giggling against Kai’s mouth.

Your eyes are open, so are Kai’s, and you can see the expression on his face shift into something akin to confusion, but you really don’t care anymore. Another giggle before you’re returning Kai’s kiss fervently, and your hands are finding any place on his body to squeeze and grab, you’re massaging him, feeling his muscles and his ribs, and your feet chop out before they clasp together. You draw Kai in further, his disconsolate fluids drenching the both of you, and you’re moaning.

You don’t like to think about the fate you've ended up with.

But if Kai never stops crying, then it'll be one you deserve.

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oscconfessions · 3 days ago

Note

Im so upset MOSS was canceled tbh, i miss inkling MOSS

-🩷💜

#confession #/moss

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larissa-the-scribe · 1 year ago

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Terrarium Lights

Part 1 of 3 for @inklings-challenge

An older lady befriends and adopts a ghost she found in her garden

Next part >>here

Michael Goffrey bid his wife farewell as he left for his next shipping job, and Gail Goffrey was once again faced with the fact that her house was cavernously empty.

She had expected the house to feel empty after her children grew up and moved on with their lives; that was the sort of thing one always heard about from the mothers and wives left behind. However, everyone seemed to stress the loneliness—not the rather more intense boredom.

Gail had always preferred quiet and alone time, so she did not take issue with the solitude. However, though she still had to cook and mend and clean and tidy and all the other tasks, it was one thing to do so for six people and quite another, shorter thing to do so for two. It was even less of a thing to do so for one, since Michael had been promoted to first mate and now had to accompany the airships personally, no longer simply loading and unloading at the cloudends as he once did.

Empty and meaningless. That’s what it felt like. With her family, she had people to help and care for. With just herself, she felt as though she were wasting time walking in circles for no other purpose than to exist.

She made it to the second day without any significant issue.

She was out tending to the herb garden when it happened—a bug wandered in front of her. That shouldn’t have been a problem. Bugs were some of her favorite creatures. But after the first smile, it hit her that she hadn't seen a new kind of one in months—this one already had three sketches in her notebook.

She’d run out of garden bugs to document.

Bugs, of all things. Bugs were everywhere, bugs had never-ending variations, bugs were constant. And she’d run out of them.

Stabbing the trowel into the earth perilously close to the offending bug, she sat back on her heels and looked up at the sky.

"Well, Lord, I reckon you put me on your good Earth for a reason. And I don't think it was just to sketch bugs." She smoothed her apron out, flicking bits of dirt off of it. "I also doubt I'm done with what I'm supposed to do down here, otherwise I wouldn't be here. But if you don't mind me saying, I'm awfully bored of where I am, though I do love my house and my husband and my town quite fierce. But I have all the time in the world, and I'd like to do good with it, if I could. So if you could show me what to do where I can—give me eyes to see as who I can do good towards—then I would appreciate it mightily."

Gail had prayed similar prayers before, with varying regularity. She knew the good Lord had heard her, as he always did. And if he answered with more solitude and time and boredom, then she supposed that was where she was meant to be for the moment. But she dearly hoped there might be something new this time.

So, really, she shouldn't have been surprised to see someone under the loquat tree. But then again, it had been raining since before dawn, so no one in their right mind would have been outdoors. She should know, since she herself had been out gathering moss for terrariums and hadn't heard a breath from anyone all day, even near the city.

Her first impression was that the lad was quite young. Younger than her youngest, in fact, who had not too long ago started her career as a professor at the nearby university. Looked perhaps like he could be one of her students. Very slight of build, as though he needed to eat more, and small looking as he sat hunched in the rain and letting the wet drip down his messy hair, full of loose ends that had gotten free from his ponytail.

Gail stood at the edge of her garden for a moment, resting her pail of moss against the stone border as she observed him.

He didn't move, just sat there with his face turned towards the soil, and didn't seem to see her. Part of his shoulder seemed stained, perhaps with mud. With the house not a few feet to the left, she wondered if he'd tried to knock and not gotten an answer, what with her out and about.

Well, unexpected or not, there was really only one thing to do.

Gripping her pail handle resolutely, Gail marched her way through the garden paths and stood in front of him. He shifted at the sound of her approach, turning his face up towards her—his eyes were pale, as if someone had sketched them on and not bothered with paint. What's more, up closer, the brownish stain on his shoulder looked rather like dried blood.

He tilted his head, as if trying to tell where the sound had come from.

"Well then," she said after a long moment of trying to figure out what to say, "who might you be?"

"Oh." He looked more directly at her, and somehow the eyes looked a bit more colored in, like they remembered they could be brown. "Dreadfully sorry, ma'am. I seem to have gotten lost in the rain. I hope you don't mind me taking a few moments here under your tree?"

He hadn't answered the question, but he seemed more surprised than shifty. "Not at all. Unpleasant weather to be lost in, for sure. If you'd like, you can wait it out under a roof."

"Oh," he said again, and looked to his left; this time it seemed like he understood what he was seeing. "I suppose that would be nicer."

"Well, you're welcome to my roof, if you’d like," she said. She wondered how long he would take her up on that.

He awkwardly stumbled to his feet before she could offer her hand. "That's very kind of you, ma'am."

"Would you like anything to eat?" She went ahead and led the way to the kitchen door.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Thank you ma’am, but I don't think I'm hungry."

She didn't think he would be, but, well, it wasn't like she had experience with this. Which concerned her—she had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. At least he didn't seem to be wicked. She supposed he must need a helping hand and, while she needed to figure out what that help was, he was still just a boy; she would do him the courtesy of treating him accordingly.

The porch and floors, old and creaky since long before she and her husband and infant son had moved in decades ago, greeted them with typical fanfare as they trudged over the threshold. She dripped her way over to the stove, where she put the kettle on; it was unlikely that her visitor would want any, but she most certainly did. Setting her pail of moss by the stove to deal with later, she glanced back to see the lad standing in the middle of the space, staring up at the roof.

Gail wondered if he noticed that he wasn't wet.

"Say," she said, carefully pulling teacups out of the cupboard, "what did you say your name was?"

He looked at her sharply. "I… I don't think I did."

"Hmmmm. Well, how should I call you, then?"

He stared at her.

In the background, the rain continued on.

"Should I just call you ma'am, then?" He said, smiling faintly.

Gail squinted at him. "Now then, young man, are you dodging the question deliberately, or do you just not have an answer?"

"Oh." He glanced around the kitchen, then back to her, and blanked. "Sorry, what was the question?"

Gail rested back against the counter. She picked up her glasses from where she'd left them this morning, and stuck them on, pushing the temples through her sodden mess of hair. "I was just asking what your name was."

His eyes widened. "I… don't… Didn't I answer that?"

"Not as I can recall."

"That… that was rude of me, then, wasn't it?" His eyes were still wide, and the brown was fading.

Maybe it was rude of her to keep pressing the matter. He seemed not to know. Gail pressed her glasses firmer on her nose, trying to reach some kind of decision—but whatever was going on with her guest had been set in motion.

"What is my name?" He asked, his voice rising. "I can't remember my name."

"That's alright, dear," she said, trying to distract him, calm him down. "Do you remember where you were before my garden?"

It had the opposite effect.

He stepped back, towards the door, and glanced around with eyes that no longer understood where he was. "No… I-I can't remember… where am I? Do you know my name?"

"I'm afraid I—"

The kettle shrieked into the space between them with a rush of steam.

The lad cast a wild glance in its direction, stepped backwards. Gail, startled into motion, scrambled to shut the thing off.

When she turned back, the space where he had stood was dry and empty. She and the rain and her pail of terrarium moss had been left alone again.

#inklingschallenge #inklings 2023 #team lewis #genre: portal fantasy #theme: burial #theme: visiting the sick #story: finished #the santa juliana files #terrarium lights #original fiction #scribe does inklings #first draft

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bookshelf-in-progress · 1 year ago

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Stars and Shadows: A Fairy Tale

An extremely experimental piece I've decided to submit for @inklings-challenge.

If you wait patiently, there will come a day--in a month, in a year, in a hundred-thousand hopeful days--when you will stare outside into the deep blue-black of a cold winter night and not be able to tell the snowflakes from the stars. It will call to your heart and pull you from the warmth and light of home--wrapped up in coats and boots, scarves and gloves, and one thick woolen blanket thrown over your shoulders like a cloak--in the hope of becoming, even for a moment, a part of the beauty of this moment of creation.

The cold of night will bite your face and steal your breath, but in a moment, you will find yourself racing across the white expanse, snow crunching beneath your boots, soul expanding toward the shining heavens in one upward rush of joy. As soon as home and family are safely out of view, you will slow from your sprint and find yourself content to amble, and wonder, and be, with the shy, slender moon watching patiently above.

You will carry no light, for the world will be light, with the moon and the stars and the snow wrapping all the world in bright illumination. Your breath will shine before you in delicate white clouds, your very life made visible for the fragile, lovely thing it is. In the silence you will hear the snowflakes fall, hear the hushed sound of your footfalls, feel every beat of your strong and pulsing heart.

And then, if you close your eyes and listen long enough, just at the moment when your heart is near to breaking from the beauty of it all, you will hear a cry. For a moment you might think it a phantom of thought, your own soul giving voice to all the aching loveliness that surges through you, but then, you will hear it again. Over and over, thin and wailing, the cry of a child newly born horrified to find the world so great and cold.

The sound will travel like an arrow in that crisp, cold air, and you will follow it without hesitation--over a rise, down a hill, through a twisting stand of trees and countless banks of snow, and at last to an old well, such as you've only seen in illustrations--a construction of wood and stones, covered with moss and aged with time, that you can say with certainty was not there a day before.

Standing by that well will be, not an infant, but a child. A little girl three years old, reaching desperately for the rim of the well and crying for water. Everything about her--her skin, her hair, her eyes--will be white as the snow she stands in, and she will gleam faintly with the light of the stars above, and she will wear nothing but thin, white rags, torn at the edges and singed at the ends, a ragged line of ash the only color in her form.

You will notice all these things and think it strange, and then you will forget everything because the child is crying. You will find a wooden bucket on a chain by the well, and in sheer desperation you will throw it down, though there will be nothing but ice in an open well on a night so cold.

But to your shock, you will hear a splash, and you will pull up a bucket full of liquid water that looks like light itself. You will give it to the girl--you would not dream of taking even a drop for yourself--and she will drink with cupped hands and lapping tongue, and gaze at you with silent gratitude.

When she has drained the last drop, the faint gleam of light around her form will become a white glow. She will seem a bit taller--perhaps a bit older than you first assumed--and for the first time, she will seem to feel the cold. She will shiver and wail and curl in on herself, and you will suddenly understand--or at least bless--your mad impulse to take a blanket out into the night. You will take it from your shoulders and wrap it round her form, head to foot, with only her shining white face peering out. Then you will take her in your arms, settle her on one hip, and carry her across the vast expanse of snow toward your home.

It will be a long trip--you have walked a long way--and before you have gone far, the child will grow too heavy for your strength. You will look to her and find that the blanket you have wrapped around her no longer seems so large, and clings more closely to her form--like something between a deep blue dress and cloak--so you will feel safe in setting her on the ground and letting her walk beside you, her thin white hand in yours.

You will wonder for a moment if you've fallen into a dream, for all seems so strange and perfect--the light, the snow, this silent child--but the bite of the cold and the burn of your legs will assure you that you remain in the waking world. Yet you won't think to question the child--who or what she is, or from whence she arrived--because she is so like the snow and the light and the stars of this crisp, cold night--things that do not become, but simply are. Your wonder make peace with the night's mystery.

The way back will seem longer than you remember--the trees taller, the stars brighter, the air colder. The night will seem large and you so very small, but you will not be afraid, for there is one beside you too innocent for fear. You will walk in the tracks you left on your way, stretching between footfalls that seem much more distant than you expected. Yet the moon will look larger, and you will take comfort in that. You will need the comfort before long.

For just when you are in the very midst of the trees, you will hear a sound from the shadows--dark and dangerous, like the growl of a wolf or the rumble of a distant train. And then the shadows will seem to take shape, growing arms and legs, teeth and claws, and they will gather in a great black wall that blocks the way you mean to take.

The voice that speaks will be less of a voice, and more like the clench of fear in your chest, the monster that mocks you as you lay awake at midnight with all the shame and sorrows of your wasted youth.

We will have the child.

You will know that the voice promises death for disobedience, and you will know to the depths of your soul that you would rather die than obey. You will hold the child close, and she will cling to your neck, and you will sprint with all your strength back toward the well. The shadows will surge and swirl around you, grabbing at your clothes, tearing at your face, and once--only once--drawing blood that drips a red path upon the snow.

You will sprint through the snow and twine through the trees, each step seeming a mile, each moment a lifetime. The shadows will gather--closer, darker--and the light of the child in your arms will fade with fear.

At last, you will see the well at the base of the hill, seeming to shine in a circle of light. If you can reach it, you know, you will be safe--every childhood game seeming suddenly like training for this very moment.

And yet, at the very edge of the clearing--somehow you always knew this would happen--you will lose your footing and fall face-first into the snow. You will shield the child's face from the snow by holding her close, and you will shield her body with your own. The shadows will fall upon you, tearing you to pieces. Your very body will seem to dissolve in pain.

Through their snarling, the shadows will promise relief, if you will only relent--the child's life for yours. Not so great a sacrifice, is it, for a child you've known for mere minutes? These words will tear at your mind, but it is your heart that will reply, drawing strength for defiance from you know not where. And you will. not. move.

You will feel the night fading--the stars and the snow and even the cold growing distant, like some faraway world in which you have no part. Even the pain will seem like something happening long ago and far away to some ancient hero in a dusty, tattered book. Yet you will feel the child beneath you, her beating heart still alive against yours, and that hope will keep you clinging to the tatters of breath in your body.

Then, at last, there will be light. So bright that it blazes white even through your closed eyes. The shadows will crumble like ash, retreat like the dark from a flame, and the destruction of your battered form will cease. The child you shelter will cry with joy.

A gentle touch will lift your shoulder so you lay on one side, and attempt to pull the child from your arms.

With a cry of defiance, you will hold her with what remains of your strength.

But then a voice will flow through you, lovely and feminine, like water and winter and moonlight given tongue. Peace.

Peace will come, perfect and pure, and you will release the child without fear. But without her presence, your need for strength will fade, and all your pain will come rushing in upon you, dark and hot and crushing, and you will have no strength to hold it back.

Absurdly, you will be most aware of an all-consuming thirst. Tears will pour from you--precious, wasted droplets. Then it will be you, and not the child, who cries for water. Then it will be the child who will draw water from the well and put the shining liquid to your lips.

You will drink, and the first mouthful will bring the cold climbing back upon you. But you will welcome it as re-entry into this world, and drink deep, again and again, until you find yourself freezing, but wholly alive, your wounds as if they never were. You will sit and gaze up at a woman dressed in midnight blue, as white and glowing as the child, who clings to her as she would to a mother, and you will find yourself alight with the same glow.

You have served my daughter well, that lovely inner voice will say again. Come and be at peace.

She will turn your eyes toward the heavens, and offer you a place there in the shining light, far from the troubles of this dark world. It will draw you as the snowflakes drew you from the warmth of home, so many long moments ago. Yet you will find yourself standing, and bowing your head, and with utmost humility refusing the honor. You will not leave this world, be there ever so many shadows, while there is still more beauty to behold.

The woman will smile, pleased with your answer, and the light surrounding you will fade. And you will see your home alight on a nearby hillside, waiting for your return.

You will say your farewells to the child--who embraces you with gratitude--and turn your path toward home. The child and her mother will do the same, fading as the sunset fades with the coming of night. And you will notice two stars in the sky above where you had noticed none before.

You will smile up at them and walk home--warm, alive and fearless. There will be no more shadows lurking along your path. But high above, and all around, you will know there is--and always will be--light.

#adventures in writing #have this weird fairy tale #i threw this together on a whim with this morning's writing session #i've been wanting to write a fairy tale #and to write something in second-person future-tense #and to write something in a self-indulgently florid style #and i guess this is what resulted #and i'm debating whether to make it an official team chesterton entry #i'd still write a 'real' story #but i want to run this by you guys first #to see if this is worth sharing further or if it's too weird and self-indulgent #inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #theme: drink #theme: clothing #story: complete

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