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realisticfanfictions · 4 months

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Being Sanji's Girlfriend & Baratie's Head Waitress - Part 2.

Sanji x Waitress!Reader: Part One.

Working at Baratie wasn't without its challenges, and the fights that sprung up because of them weren't rare either. You and your boyfriend never sweated the small stuff, after all working in a high stress environment made you, well, stressed. But maybe some things can't be resolved that easily.

Tags: Sanji x Reader, Waitress!Reader, constant bickering, mostly fluff with some angst, (heavy) swearing.

A/N: I'm so glad the first one was well received! I'm pretty self-concious about my writing, but seeing everyone's hearts and reblogs has made me so happy! There's also been a ton of new people following this page, and I'm so appreciative you guys are liking my stuff enough to keep up to date with my writing <3.

Word Count is 5,427. Hope you enjoy!

"What the hell was that?" You knew that this made you look like a crazy girlfriend, dragging your significant other into the cold room and locking the door behind you. You'd gotten a few curious and slightly concerned glances from other staff, but by this point they knew better than to intervene. White fog spewed from your mouth as you spoke, giving you the appearance of a mighty dragon ready to burn down anyone who stood in her way.

Sanji, who hadn't fought you the entire way here, rubbed his face with his hand and shoved the other into his pocket. "I was just trying to be friendly." He shrugged.

A cold breeze caused you to flinch, but you refused to show any weakness. "Bullshit." You hissed and gritted your teeth, unable to fathom this man's arrogance. "I'm not dumb, Sanji-"

"And I never said you were." Both hands were now in his pockets and he finally met your gaze. He looked tired and you could tell he was chewing on the inside of his cheek - a habit you knew stemmed from his nicotine addiction. But his forced eye contact didn't last long and his gaze soon drifted to the corner of the cold room. He let out a small sigh. "I'm sorry. I can't help what I say to women-"

You held up a hand. "I don't care about you miserably failing at flirting. Well, I do care, but that's beside the point." You took a breath, counted to five and stared at your boyfriend's beautiful blue eyes. "I know that you're upset, and though I am very annoyed at you, I will say that I appreciate you telling me you're sorry."

"So it is about the-"

"Sanji." He slowly closed his mouth and subtly nodded. He was listening. "I know that you like women, and that you'll move heaven and earth for one to glance your way. I know that. I knew that when I started going out with you." You licked your suddenly dry lips. "What I get upset about, is that you went over my head and spoke to my customers in a rather vulgar way. I know you think it's beneath you, but I take a lot of pride in what I do. I'm good at it. And when-" God, your lips were so dry. "And when you go over my head, take over my table, insult the place that took me in when I had nowhere else to go-when we had nowhere else to go, and then ignore my discomfort and make a joke of it?" You met his eyes. "I am your girlfriend, Sanji. Something that you're meant to love and cherish- like how- I can't-"

Before you realised it, you found yourself slowly enveloped by the love of your life. "Hey," He shushed you gently as he cradled you against his chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel that way." He murmured and placed a kiss against your temple. "My love, you're shaking. I didn't realise I made you this upset. Please, forgive me."

You couldn't help but laugh. "I'm just cold, dumbass. And still pissed at you." Despite what you said, you still buried your head in his chest and soaked up his warmth. It was then you realised how long it'd been since the two of you had been alone like this. Just soaking up each other's warmth and committing the other's smell, touch and the feel of their skin to memory. You're embarrassed to admit you forgot just how much you love his cologne. "Guess this is what happens when we don't have sex for a while."

He gave a breathy chuckle and leaned back enough just to press his lips against your forehead and stare into your eyes. "Well, I'd offer to remedy that, but I'm afraid the cold will affect my performance."

"Like you need an excuse for a bad performance."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

His usual, charming smile stretched across his face and he licked his lips, before hungrily diving in and punishing you with a particularly brutal kiss. He softly moaned into the kiss, and pulled back enough for you to see the devilish look in his eye as he bent down to press a kiss to your neck.

The door suddenly flung open and Pattie groaned. "I should've known." He exclaimed and threw his towel at the both of you. "Move. I'm trying to get some stuff for dessert."

Sanji grew a wicked grin. "What a coincidence. I'm trying to get me some dessert too." He chuckled and moved in to continue his assault, but was thwarted by an incoming barrage of hits from the disgruntled chef.

Backed by the sound of Pattie yelling in disgust, you laughed and shook your head, worming out of Sanji's hold and skipping out of the cold room with said blond on your heels. You both quickly ducked out of the kitchen and into a small hallway where you turned around to look at him once more. "Thank you for listening to me, Sanji. I may have blown my lid a bit too much back there." You fished around in your pocket and pulled out your lighter. "Go take a smoke break."

"Darling-"

You pushed it into his hand. "Take a break, and have a smoke. If not for you, for me. Because I honestly can't handle you when you're being all bitchy."

His shoulders dropped and a tired smile replaced his worried expression. He wrapped his hands around your own and placed a kiss against your knuckles. "Thank you, my love." He exclaimed and you waved him off with a smile.

"Whatever, you wallowing wag. While you're walking, watch the weather and water, and warn the workers if we're wayward. We don't want any wild winds, or another wreck this week."

He smiled. "You still don't realise you do that, do you?"

You blinked. "Do what?"

A hearty chuckle escapes him and he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it." That damn smile of his made your heart flutter and while you were confused, you returned his kiss with a quick peak of his lips and watched as he walked off. You didn't understand why he was so weird, but you guess it's just part of dating someone.

Before you could go back to serving, a faintly familiar face poked his head around the corner. You squinted your eyes and watched as he walked around aimlessly. "Excuse me, are you lost?"

The boy in the straw hat turned his head in your direction and smiled when he noticed you. "Oh! You're (Y/N), our waitress!" He spun himself around and hastily walked up to you, almost tripping on the aging floorboards. "I didn't get to introduce myself," He tipped his hat. "My name is Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm going to be King of the Pirates!"

That made you pause. "Oh." You dumbly said, not really sure how to respond. "That's... nice. But this is a staff only area-"

"You're a good fighter." The boy- Luffy you corrected yourself, interrupted and leaned in uncomfortably close. "Well, Sanji's a really good fighter, but you're pretty good too!" He made a pistol with his fingers and pretended to shoot. "You seem good with a gun. And the way you backed up Sanji and knocked that guy out? So good!"

Again, you weren't really sure how to respond. "I was only helping out, but thanks, I guess." You put your hands on your hips. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He tilted his head in confusion. "No, I'm fine."

You blinked. "But you're in a staff only area."

He nodded. "I am."

"...And you know you're not a staff member?"

He shook his head. "I'm not."

You sighed and squeezed the bridge of your nose. "I mean, why are you here?"

A smile returned to his face. "Oh, why didn't you just say so!" He waved his hand around as if announcing something great. His eyes wandered around the room, as if searching for something in the distance. You were intrigued. "I'm trying to find..."

You leaned in. "You're trying to find...?"

"Yes, I am trying to find..." His eyes slowly drifted downward until they met yours. They sparkled with great mysteries waiting to be unveiled, a sense of adventure and bravery and fearlessness that you couldn't help but admire. He smiled. "A toilet!"

Before you could stop yourself, you smacked him upside the head. "Don't pretend like it's some big, life-altering explanation, you dumbass!" With each word, you brought your hand down to slap him on any part of his body you could touch. "Besides, there's three signs for the bathroom on the way here!"

He held up his hands, trying to block your attacks. "Ow! I'm sorry! Stop hitting me!"

You rolled your eyes and stepped back, crossing your arms and glaring at him. "You're such an idiot. Fine, come with me. You can use the staff bathroom, it's right down this hall."

Luffy slowly uncurled himself and nodded. "Thanks a lot! I was sure I was going to crap my pants, you're a life saver!"

"I didn't need to know that." You sighed and beckoned him to follow with a finger. "So, King of the Pirates, huh?"

He nodded, his straw hat bobbing with him as you both walked. "Yep! We have a map to the Grand Line, and we're going to find the One Piece."

You laughed. "Only idiots with a death wish go after that thing."

"Hm, not really. I don't have a death wish." He replied with a shrug.

With a dramatic sigh, you playfully shove him. "Sure you don't, straw boy. What's next? You're gonna tell me you don't plunder and raid villages wherever you go?"

He shook his head. "We don't."

You quirked an eyebrow. "Don't yet?"

He shook his head again. "No."

"Fine then, where are you going to get money?"

"Finding the One Piece will give us all the money we'll ever need."

"And until then?"

"I don't know, but we'll figure something out."

You scoffed. "They always say that."

He tilted his head. "Do you know?"

"I do. You can kidnap a princess and random her, rob an orphanage, maybe even take a business hostage and demand money or you'll start executing patrons."

Luffy stopped and stared at you. "That's really dark."

You shrugged and continued walking. "That's what you have to do if you want to find a crazy man's last fuck-you to the government."

His smile turned into a frown. "You don't think it's real?"

"I think that Gold Rodger wanted to bring about the age of pirates, and he did." You explained. "Doesn't matter if it's real or not. Its impact on the world is more valuable than any treasure he ever got his hands on."

Within a second, he was in front of you with a cheeky grin. "Ah ha! So you do think it's real!"

A sigh escaped you. "I honestly don't care enough to believe if it's real or not. What is real is the pain, and death it's caused. Nations tearing each other and themselves apart just to find a glimpse of a shred of evidence that horrid thing is real. And men setting sail and abandoning everything just because they think finding a gold chest is worth losing their family over. Then those same men kill other men with families just like theirs, spreading their filth and disease to every home, town and village just because they can't stand the thought of a man doing the right thing by taking care of his family."

Luffy tilted his head. "You sound like you care a lot."

A tense silence filled the air and you stared at this strange, but oddly charming character. So innocent, so naive. He had no idea of the world you knew, the one that you grew up in. It's rare to find someone this optimistic, or sheltered. You pointed behind him. "Bathroom's there. Leave when you're done."

To say that you were affected by his words would've been both an understatement, and a poor choice of phrasing. You weren't affected, per say. They rubbed you the wrong way, and brought up memories you would rather just forget. It didn't help that they ordered one of everything on the menu, and you were constantly bringing out dishes to a smiling, unbothered Luffy who just shoveled food into his mouth. It was actually really impressive, and you were glad that they didn't come last week when the Baratie did that eating competition. You're pretty sure you probably would've gone out of business.

With a perfectly manufactured smile, you set down the plate of ribs on the only available space between piles of plates and stacked glasses. "And this is the final dish - our limited-time French-Style Ribs braised in red wine and cranberry." You straightened up and the plate was instantly pulled towards the centre of the table. The man in the pirate attire groaned, but he shoved a rib in his mouth and moaned. "I hope everything's been to your satisfaction. Can I get anything else for you tonight? A refill perhaps?"

The orange-haired woman smiled. "We're fine for now, thanks." With a nod, you turned to leave. "When does the bar close?"

"It's open all night, but we do a deep clean around three to four in the morning. So you may not be able to get anything on tap, but prepackaged drinks are always available." The words flowed off your tongue like a rehearsed speech, probably because it was. She smiled and nodded her thanks, before turning back to the conversation they were in. As you walked away, you spotted a certain red-haired pig-tail wearing waitress near the till. "Macy."

Said waitress flinched and slowly turned to you. "Yes, Ma'am?"

More than a little annoyed, you walked up to her and lent against the counter. "Why are you at the till?" She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, trying and failing to start a proper sentence until you stopped her with a hand. "Macy, there was one rule; don't touch the till. What are you doing right now?"

She paused. "Touching the till?"

You nodded. "Good job, you got something right." With a small glare, you pushed past her and looked at the total that she was charging, then compared it to the bill laying on the countertop. "Unless they've agreed to add a ฿65 tip on top of your 10%, I guess we've just found out who's been messing with the till."

"I-"

"You're done for the night." Her shocked expression turned into a bitter snarl and she began to tug at her apron. "Macy, you've got the body of a used fucking tube of toothpaste. No one wants to see you undress here, get the fuck out. You'll make the customers sick." She gasped, but you dismissed her with a wave and she stormed out of the restaurant. You sighed and opened the drawer beneath the counter, pulling out the book of paid receipts and bookings. Both luckily and unluckily, it was getting close to end-of-shift which meant that you had time to fix Macy's mess, but that the mess was probably smeared dog shit on a window at this point.

Grabbing out your pen and a calculator, you mentally prepared yourself for the long night ahead, when you felt something touch your back. "Hello, my darling." Sanji greeted with a kiss to the back of your neck, then rested his chin on your shoulder to watch what you were doing while his hand lazily stroked your side.

With a sigh, you turned your head to kiss him. "Hey, jerkface. Glad to see someone with a shred of intelligence." You greeted, then scribbled down some notes. "Someone's fucked the till again, and screwed the customers' out of at least three-hundred berri from what I can see."

His smile dropped and he reached for the book, tilting it so that he can see it. "Closer to five-hundred than anything. This table didn't even order the Lobster Thermidor, what the hell's going on."

You slammed your pen down in frustration and leaned back against him. "No idea, but I'm going to have to make some calls and refund tables." He wrapped his arm around your stomach and kissed the back of your ear which made you sigh and rub your face. "I need to make a list and figure out how much we fucked people out of money." You happened to look over at Luffy's table. They looked like they were toasting. "Can you bill them? It'd help a lot."

He smiled and took the piece of paper you had offered him. "Of course, my love. And give me a list of the rich pricks you want me to call. We'll divide and conquer."

"What did I do to deserve you?" You asked as he picked up the golden dish used to store cash.

"You, my love, didn't need to do anything." He pressed a kiss to your forehead and then your lips, before turning around and walking over to do as you asked.

Turning back to your mammoth task, now with a smile, you picked up your pen again and started to scribble down the sum total of every receipt that was put in by Macy. It was a good call by Zeff to bar everyone else but yourself from accessing the till. It was pretty easy to differentiate your neat and straightforward ones from Macy's abominations, but it still didn't make it any less painful. The Baratie didn't even serve quiches, so why would she even put that in there?

The telltale sound of Sanji's shoes smacking against the floorboards broke your concentration, and you looked up confused. "That was fast-" You were interrupted by him flashing you what was on the bill. You frowned at his abrupt interruption, but then squinted and jolted back slightly to look at your boyfriend. "What the shit is a 'treasure tab'?"

"We're going to find out." He said with a smile and walked past you to the kitchen. This was going to be interesting.

Just as you thought, the kitchen door slammed open and Zeff's wide, intimating frame appeared in the doorway. "Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Luffy, sweet and innocent Luffy, popped his head out of his booth and waved his milkshake. "Here!" Zeff locked onto him and marched toward the young boy.

"You seem to be confused about the rules of the house," You and Sanji, who had just come out of the kitchen, exchanged knowing glances and you placed down your pen. Led by your boyfriend, you grabbed a jug of water while he grabbed a tray of complimentary scones and he slowly walked around the scene that was unfolding. "But Baratie doesn't offer credit. You eat, you pay." You both stopped at a nearby empty table. You started to examine the glasses in detail, admiring the way the light hit the material, while Sanji wiped the table with a piece of lettuce someone forgot to clean up.

Setting down his glass, Luffy looked up at Zeff. "I think you're confused." Sanji and you shared a look. "The meal has already been paid for. I just haven't given you the money yet."

Pretending to look around the room, you caught the stern, no-shits-given look Zeff was offering the kid. "Yeah, and how's that?"

Luffy smiled. "You can add it to my treasure tab."

You and Sanji snickered at the tone in Zeff's voice. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

"A way to get your ass beat." You mumbled and Sanji quietly shushed you with a smile, trying to hear the rest of what was being said.

Still not realising what's happening, Luffy kept talking. "I may not look like a big deal yet, but you're talking with the future King of the Pirates. And as soon as I find the One Piece, I'm gonna come back here, pay this bill in full, and with interest."

Zeff chuckled. "I got a better idea." And yanked Luffy out of his booth, dragging the confused pirate to the kitchen.

A sigh escaped you. "That certainly didn't disappoint." You commented and picked up Sanji's makeshift lettuce-rag, pocketing it to throw out later. "Guess we have a new busboy."

Sanji shook his head, but kept his eyes on the door. "Wouldn't be good at anything besides dishes." He said and paused for a second. You could see the metaphorical gears in his head turning, before he nodded toward the kitchen. "Hold on."

"Sanji, don't-" But it was too late, the love of your life had walked off, probably to rejoin the line. Your fists balled up and you let out a frustrated groan, your heels clicking as you followed after him. "Sanji! Don't piss him off. Sanji-"

The doors swung open as the blond barged in the kitchen with you on his heels. Your words fell on deaf ears and you rolled your eyes at Zeff who looked between you two confused. "Oy, oy. What do you think you're doing?"

You threw up your hands, but helped Sanji shrug off his coat. "I tried to stop him." You said as you wrapped his jacket around your arm and lent against the wall behind you.

The blond scoffed and held up a hand. "Com on, old man. Enough's enough-"

"Put the jacket back on, little Eggplant. You're not done with your shift yet." Zeff's face was tired and stern as always, and all you wanted to do was pull Sanji back and apologise for the extra stress. However, you knew that the two were stubborn and that would only cause more trouble than it's worth.

Sanji's tone suddenly sharpened. "Let me back on the line, or I walk." You almost said something, but considering you said something similar this afternoon, you settled for a glare.

"You can walk right back into the ocean for all I care. You cook another meal like that in my kitchen, it's going right where the last one did."

"You can kick me out of the kitchen all you like. I'll never be a waiter."

"Well that's fine by me, because you sure as hell are never gonna be a cook in my restaurant. Have you got that?"

Your heart broke seeing your boyfriend's face when he glanced over at you. He was so angry, and hurt, and upset. His hands were balled into fists, but you just shook your head. It wasn't worth it. His gaze shifted back to the man who had taken the both of you in, and then he turned heel, storming out of the kitchen via the hallway.

"So it was Macy, then?" When you nodded, Zeff sighed and held his face in his palm. The two of you were alone on the balcony overlooking the ocean. You were all on a thirty minute break before the next service, and you'd stumbled across the old man while trying to get some peace and quiet. The man you both admired and respected more than anyone was sat beside you tiredly rubbing his face. "And where is she now?"

You fought back what you really wanted to say, and simply shrugged, picking up your glass and taking a sip. "I sent her home for the night. Didn't want to see her fucking face, the red-haired bitch."

He shifted in his chair and leaned forward toward you, pointing a finger in your direction. "There is no talk like that in the Baratie."

You rolled your eyes and put your glass down. "It's not a big deal. Everyone here curses-"

"But you never use such vulgar language when talking about a woman." He said, his tone firm and leaving no room for arguing. "I always taught both you and that boyfriend of yours to never speak badly about, or to, a woman. Just because you're twenty-one now, doesn't mean a thing. Get that?" Ever since you were fifteen, he's drilled his way of life into your head. From scrubbing the decks every time you dropped food, to spending late nights learning the difference between the various cutlery the Baratie offered, it was almost like his life's mission to turn you into a mini-him. To this day, you couldn't eat salad with a table fork, even though the minute difference between a salad fork and a table fork were so inconsequential they were practically the same fucking thing.

You bit the inside of your lip. "Well that bitch-"

"Macy."

The condensation floating slowly down your glass seemed to be more interesting than his face. "Macy has ruined all the work I've done to make the Baratie a place where you can just sit down and enjoy a good meal with the best service around. You know, I've had to deal with so much shit. More than anyone in this goddamn place. All the harassment explained away as jokes and if I'm uncomfortable with it, I'm just 'not getting the joke'. And then having to spend hours listening to the most intolerable stories about slick, rich pricks with small dicks bitching about their toxic chicks with plastic tits. And expecting me to not spit or get sick when they talk about me like I'm some quick flick." You took a breath, counted to five, and licked your lips. "But it's not enough that she'll get away with it. You also won't let me complain about her."

He sighed. "She isn't going to get away with it." You scoffed and raised your glass to take another sip, but a hand under your chin guided your gaze to him. "Look at me." Hesitantly, you lifted your eyes to meet his. "She," He spoke slowly, his intense blue eyes piercing into mine in a way that made you feel small. "Is going to be dealt with." His hand released your chin and migrated upwards to rest atop your head, softly patting your head like he used to when you were younger. "You've done well, little Sprout." You sucked in a breath and nodded, but your pseudo-confidence wasn't fooling the old man. "And if any of these 'rich pricks with small dicks' ever bothers you again, tell me. Nothing is worth you being treated like a sack of shit over. Not the Baratie, not anything."

A fake chuckle wormed its way out of you, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Thanks, Dad."

A smile spread across his face and he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you in and pressing his lips to your forehead. Zeff smelled like a thousand scents, oregano, paprika, and a dash of vanilla extract, but his warm touch and the feeling of his scruffy beard against your scalp only felt like one thing: safe. You hadn't realised you closed your eyes until you felt him pull away. "Now then, I've got some calls to make."

With a groan, he got up to his feet. "Are you sure? My waitress, my mistake."

He shook his head. "My Baratie, my mistake." He walked past, patting you on the head as he left the balcony.

It was time to face your boyfriend, and you were dreading it. With his coat jacket wrapped over your arm, you slowly made your way down the hall to the kitchen. The doors were swinging slightly, so you knew that someone had just walked in, and you took a deep breath, walking over to the entrance - ready to go in.

"...banned from the line." You paused when you heard Sanji's voice float through the air.

"But that meal you cooked was incredible!"

A smile graced your face and you lent against the wall just beside the doors. "The True Bluefin Sauté?"

"Yeah!"

"You tried it?"

"Yeah, of course I did! I couldn't help myself. I didn't think the food here could get any better. You know, you're a really good cook. Why is Zeff making you wait tables?"

"'Cause he's jealous. I should be running this place, but the old man's so stubborn it'll never happen."

"So, that's your dream. To be head chef of the Baratie."

A pause. "I guess-"

"No, it's not." Both men looked up at you when you entered the double doors.

The other voice who you now realised was Luffy looked at you confused. "It's not?"

Sanji laughed breathlessly and looked at the table he was sitting at, flicking open his lighter and closing it again. "It's not." He confirmed. You smiled and walked over to where your boyfriend sat, draping his coat over an empty chair.

"So you love to cook. You just don't want to cook here?"

The blond grabbed out a cigarette and looked to you where you had taken up residence next to him. When you nodded, he ignited the lighter you gave him earlier and lit the end of his cigarette. He took a drag and hummed. "There's... this place," He started and his eyes drifted to yours. You both shared a small smile. "Where you can find ingredients from all four seas. East Blue, West Blue, North and South - they call it the All Blue. Nobody knows where it is, but..." His gaze lifts heavenward. "There's fish there that have never been seen. You know, rare seaweeds, spices that have never been tasted. It's a cook's paradise, and I'm gonna find it one day." He looked back at you and placed his hand over yours. "That's my dream."

Luffy's gaze was soft, but also intense. "If you want to cook, you should cook. Don't let some stubborn old man stand in the way of your dream." He smiled. "Stand up to him! Tell him what you want."

"It's more..." Sanji looked over at you. "Complicated, than that."

The young boy shrugged. "I don't really do complicated either."

You scoffed. "For someone who claims to be a pirate, you don't like a lot of things that pirates are known for."

Luffy looked at you. "For someone who doesn't like pirates, you sure do act like one."

Before you could say anything, frantic banging on the staff exit caught you all off guard. Begging for help, a man tumbled in and fell to the floor, barely having the strength to cling onto the countertop. On instinct, you went to pull out your gun but stopped when your boyfriend raised a hand to you and marched toward the man. Being the good Samaritan you certainly weren't, Sanji and Luffy helped him up onto a chair. "Are you okay?"

The man's voice sounded croaky and scratchy. "I'm so hungry, please."

Sanji nodded and moved to the stove. "Okay, you got it, man. How does some corned-beef fried rice sound?"

Pattie, appearing from his break, quickly stood up and followed after him. "What do you think you're doing?" He demanded.

The blond didn't bother to look at him and you gave the pirate a warning look before moving to the fridge. "At Baratie, everyone eats." The love of your life explained as you rifled through the fridge for the ingredients he would need.

"And who's gonna pay for that? This is a business, we can't be giving handouts to every down-on-his-luck pirate that washes up."

"If a man is hungry, I feed him. Thank you, darling." He said when you handed him the beef.

Pattie looked at you for help, then back at him when you just shrugged. "Zeff kicked you off the line."

"Yeah, well, I don't see the old man here. Do you?"

The other chef looked at you once more, and you shrugged at him again. You both knew it was a losing battle, and so he waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, your funeral."

You couldn't keep your eyes off the strange pirate while he sat and ate, and explained what had happened to him. Sanji was way too nice a person for people like him to deserve. You knew pirates, and a part of you was tempted to hide the silverware.

"He's a good guy." Luffy, who was slowly becoming less and less of a pirate in your eyes, said and you nodded.

"Sanji's brilliant." The words came easily. "He's the kind of guy that only comes once a generation. He's a dumbass, sure, but he's a good dumbass."

He thought for a second, before turning to Sanji. "You know, if Zeff doesn't appreciate you, you should join my crew."

Your chair scraped as you stood and left the room.

A/N: I am genuinely loving writing this! As said above, I normally tend to leave the reader's backstory and personality ambiguous, but this character has just taken on a personality of her own! This one is a bit longer because I felt like there wasn't enough content in this upload to justify it. I wouldn't want to waste everyone's time with like, two conversations. I'm kinda happier with the longer/more in-depth parts because I get to spend more time building up characters and relationships, and I'm less tempted to accidentally write and spoil things that the OPLA fans haven't seen yet.

Also, I've grappled with the ages for a while now, and I've officially decided that this AU will have Sanji and (Y/N) be 21. Normally I'd leave the reader's age ambiguous, but since age is important to this story, it's needed to be put in there.

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peacefulpianist · 9 months

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The Green Dress

Loki x Fem. Reader (no y/n)

Wow hi everyone, I can't say I ever thought I would be doing this, but I've written something! I've been an avid reader for a few years now and have finally convinced myself to give it a shot. Any constructive criticism is more than welcome, but please do bear in mind this is the first thing I've written since year 8 English that isn't an academic paper of sorts. Anyway I hope you enjoy!

I'm tagging a few members of the SAS who I think may like this? But if you want to be removed please do let me know - no hard feelings at all : @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @acidcasualties @muddyorbsblr @wheredafandomat @liminalpebble

Description: When Stark invites you last minute to one of his infamous parties, you've not got many options on hand to wear until Nat suggests you wear the green dress you had bought months ago. Perhaps it will be enough to inspire a certain god to finally make his move.

w/c: 4.2k whoops I didn't intend for it to be nearly this long

My Masterlist

“How many times do I need to tell you that you absolutely can not do that Stark!” You exclaimed in exasperation over the cluttered lab table once more.

“But if I just ignored that little thing-” the glare you sent from over the top of your glasses quickly shut his remark down before it could continue any further. Looking contrite, but rather worryingly still determined, Stark pushed back from the table, going slightly further than expected in his chair and trying to style it out as intentional as he almost collided into several rather important projects.

“Well since you’ve thoroughly pooped on that party Brainiac, I’m declaring we call it a day here, and hey speaking of parties, you are coming later aren’t you?” He asked whilst trying not to fall of his chair and catching a rather dangerous looking item falling off one of the nearby tables he had knocked into.

A wave of panic washed through you at the mention of the event later; you had been hoping that as no one had specifically invited you to it, only mentioned it in passing, that you would be able to give it a miss unnoticed. It wasn’t that you disliked Starks events or even parties in general, you just happened to be aware of who else would be there and definitely couldn’t trust yourself to keep up a front with the copious alcohol that would no doubt find its way into your system. Not that you were totally innocent in how it found its way there. You had been hoping to avoid a direct invitation like this, purely because you had a real issue saying no to people, especially those you liked and admired. It was because of this, and only this - not the fact you would get to see Loki in one of his impeccably tailored suits again as a helpful voice in your head supplied, that you found yourself blurting out the following.

“Uh yeah sure, of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world boss!”

You had hoped that it had come out in a convincing tone, but the slight frown emerging on Starks face said otherwise. However, as quick as it had appeared on his face it was gone, replaced by a trademark smile as he slapped his thighs and stood.

“Well then, you better be off to prepare and polish your elbows, or whatever it is you ladies manage to do to fill so much time getting ready before these events,” his face quickly faltered after realising what he had actually just said and quickly followed up with “not saying of course that it isn’t absolutely worth it, especially if Pepper asks”.

In an effort to allow Tony to leave the interaction without digging himself an even deeper hole, you stood too, gathering your bag as you went, giving a slightly awkward wave over your shoulder as you walked out the door.

It was only when you made it back to your room upstairs that you fully understood what you had actually agreed to. Not only were you going to have to be in the same room as Loki, desperately trying to hide your feelings towards him, whilst watching him flirt with practically everyone in attendance, but also work out what the hell you were going to wear to a party at such short notice. Unlike many of the other inhabitants of the tower, your wardrobe wasn’t exactly equipped for these kinds of events. You had always preferred to skip out on anything that required this level of formal wear, the comfort of your staple jeans and a hoody was something you had always chosen over the tighter fitting, more formal attire required at Stark’s parties.

In a somewhat unhelpful move, you decided that putting off the outfit dilemma was the best course of action, as a frantic full-body shower was needed, and of course there was no point choosing an outfit before you’d done your hair and makeup after the shower as well. You had told yourself that the outfit choices could be mulled over during this time as well, but realistically knew that you were just lying to yourself and would inevitably put it off until the last moment.

A frantic search of your wardrobe, which involved many an outfit being taken out, only to be thrown into the rejection pile on the floor moments later, left you coming up short and in the middle of a ring of discarded outfits whilst still in just your towel. You sank to the floor, just staring despondently at the chaos around you, contemplating whether Tony would actually notice if you didn’t go after all.

It was in that state exactly that Nat found you minutes later after she had knocked, not waited for an answer and entered anyway, only to stop in her tracks and abandon whatever purpose she had come with upon seeing you in such a state.

“Well that outfit is sure to grab everyone’s attention, not what I would choose personally but good for you girl!” Nat said with a smirk, leaning on your doorframe.

“Don’t even start with that right now, I wasn’t planning on going to this until and hour ago, and I appear to have greatly underestimated my wardrobe deficiencies. Some actual help right now would be greatly appreciated.” Your reply came from the floor, all hope of being able to avoid Stark’s shindig fading with the sound of the door closing behind Natasha.

“I’m sure your so called deficiency isn’t nearly as bad as you’re making it out to be,” her voice somewhat muffled as she rooted through what was left of your clothes in you’re wardrobe.

“I mean look right here, what was wrong with this option, it’s even green, perfect to catch you-know-who’s attention!” The smile on her face dropped when she turned to face you, brandishing the green dress you had bought months ago on a whim when out with some friends, only to realise you would never be comfortable enough to wear it out in public when you had tried it on at home later that evening.

“Woah, what’s so wrong with this one that it makes you pull that face? It’s a stunning dress I can’t see what you could possibly have against this one, its perfect for tonight.” Nat questioned with a confused frown, after seeing the vehement refusal on your face at the suggestion.

“It is a beautiful dress, just not on me, I don’t-” before you could even finish the thought, Nat had pulled you up, and was pushing you quite forcefully back towards the bathroom, throwing you in there along with the dress and your raciest, laciest underwear that you hadn’t even seen her grab.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, you should know better than to speak like that about one of my closest friends by now, by the time I’m back after getting changed myself, I want you wearing that dress so I can prove to you how wrong you are when you see everyone’s faces when we walk in later” Nate reply was somewhat muffled behind the bathroom door, but the fierceness, and her love for you, was still conveyed perfectly through the wood.

“Besides if it truly makes you feel that bad after wearing it tonight, we’ll burn it together tomorrow, I’m not having you keeping it if its going to make you feel this way whenever you see it.” The finality in her tone and promise of being able to get rid of the thing tomorrow was enough to get you to follow her orders, that alongside the fact that you were still rather scared of her, even after having been friends with her for a few years now.

With Natasha momentarily gone, it gave you the chance to ruminate in your thoughts, the dress was truly stunning, a deep emerald green that displayed your decolletage beautifully, with a daring slit from ankle to high up on your thigh. While you could see that the dress itself was objectively great, when it was you wearing it, it didn’t seem that way anymore. Instead of being able to focus on all of the ways it could highlight your beauty, all you could see was the way the closer fit of the dress clung to your stomach slightly, and how the slit showed off your thighs, and just seemed to emphasise how big they were.

It was in this downward spiral that Nat found you in upon her return, a frown once again set on her face as when she saw the malice behind your eyes, directed solely at yourself.

The way you could only ever focus on the parts of yourself that you saw as problems had always hurt Natasha, and how it impacted the way you behaved as well. It wasn’t just a matter of wearing baggier clothes that covered your insecurities, but the way you let it decide where you belonged socially. She was intimately familiar with your growing feelings towards a certain god of mischief who had taken up residence in the tower little over a year earlier, but also with your pessimistic view towards your chances of the feelings being reciprocated. Ever since you had realised that your feelings were more than that of just friendship you had immediately resigned yourself to remaining in the friend zone, refusing to believe that he would ever see you as something more because “he’s a god and I’m, well, I mean just look at me.” Nat had tried countless times to reassure you that the way you saw yourself, was not in fact the way others saw you, but had also at this point come to the understanding that your self perception wasn’t based in logic, and reasoning as such wasn’t going to make enough of an impact to change how you saw yourself.

It was with this in mind that she approached you, an arm reaching round you and pulling you into her side for a hug, while smiling at you in the mirror, before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of your room and to the party on the floor above.

Your outfit dilemma had delayed the two of you a little, so when you arrived upstairs, the party was already in full swing; with music blaring and alcohol clearly flowing freely if the state that some of the guests were in already was any indication. As such you were easily able to slip in behind Natasha unnoticed, before heading straight over to the bar, feeling the need to indulge a little more than normal tonight.

From your vantage point at the bar up on the mezzanine, you could see almost all of the goings on down below you, from Lang absolutely busting it up on the dance floor to Tony trailing around after Pepper, seemingly trying to make up for something that was undoubtedly his fault, but wasn’t actually remorseful for. Unfortunately it also meant that you had the perfect view of Loki and his apparent flavour of the night. Despite knowing how unproductive it was, you found yourself comparing yourself to her, noting all the ways she was traditionally attractive, only to seemingly find yourself lacking in the same places in comparison. Even though you had accepted months ago that Loki was never going to reciprocate your feelings, and having desperately tried to allocate him into the friend box in your head unsuccessfully, it still hurt deeply to see him so close with other women, knowing what he would be doing with them that night, only to move on to the next when it suited him.

This knowledge had one advantage for you though, it had made it much easier for you to become friends with the god. As you knew nothing romantic was ever going to happen between the two of you, you had found it that much easier to relax and joke around him, even going as far to return his flirty remarks, as there was no pressure behind it for you, and the potential embarrassment behind behaving more boldly was removed. Since he flirted with everyone that way, it obviously didn’t mean anything to him, so it made it much easier for you to jokingly flirt back. It was because of this new found confidence, that you had struck up a strong friendship with the god and had come to call him one of your closest friends. It had only added to your mental torture.

After a few more self indulgent moments, agonising a little more over what could have been you turned to the bartender, and took another drink with a polite thanks and a smile before deciding that even if you did still regret coming, and especially wearing the dress, you were going to make the most of the evening. Besides how many people could say they got to drink and dance with the avengers, who they were friends with.

It was with this new found resilience that you stood from your place and made your way down to the dance floor, having caught Nat and Wanda’s eyes before and been summoned.

The next few hours passes in a slight blur of laughter and dancing for you, after a few, chaotic but incredibly fun dances with Nat and Wanda some of the other men began to join in, requesting a dance with you. Between the fun of teaching Steve how people actually danced in clubs now alongside Nat, and Bucky whirling you round the floor like an absolute professional - after complementing your outfit for the evening with an all too knowing look, you had almost forgotten about your preconceptions for the evening, but whenever you danced with one of the men, however gracious and smooth they were, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were Loki instead of them; comparing the feel of their hand on your back to what you had imagined Loki’s would be like if he were there instead.

Just when you were about to take a break from dancing, a slightly cooler hand came to rest on your back, as its owner leant down to speak into your ear over the music.

“Darling, I think its about time we show them how its really done don’t you?”

The feeling of his breath over your neck as he leant in closer sent a jolt down your spine, that you were almost certain he must have felt in his hand, still placed firmly in the middle of your back, exactly where you had imagined it being all night.

Quickly composing yourself, you managed a somewhat natural reply, rather impressed with your own neurones for still being able to function at least somewhat normally whilst Loki was so close to you, having not moved away under the pretence of needing to be closer to be able to hear you over the music.

“Ah of course your majesty, I’m sure us mere mortals couldn’t possibly live up to the prowess of a god”

His low reply was barely heard over the thumping of the bass, in a way that made you question whether he had actually intended for your to hear it, if it wasn’t for the sly wink he sent towards you after.

“Yes I find that is the case in many areas darling, especially when it comes to moving their bodies”

The raised eyebrow you gave in reply expressed all you needed him to know, and covered for the fact that your mind had been sent in a downward spiral imagining his trademark snake hips dance move, in areas other than the dance floor.

Whilst you were somewhat distracted in your thoughts, he moved the hand from your back to loop his arm round your waist and bring you back into the middle of the dance floor, beginning to sensually move his hips and draw you into to him to do the same.

What you didn’t know was that Loki and been subtly watching you all evening, ever since you had walked in the door, many may not have noticed your entrance behind the Black Widow, but at this point Loki’s body was finely attuned to your presence and he hadn’t been able to draw his sight away from you for more than a few seconds at a time. You were wearing his colours. His green. But it wasn’t just your choice in attire tonight that had drawn his attention, as delightful as that dress was, you’d had it for many months before this point. Initially you had been a curiosity to Loki, kind to him when many others weren’t immediately following his return to Midgard, but after talking to you the first few times it was your intelligence that had captured Loki’s heart. He had found you to be one of the few midgardians to match his voracious appetite for knowledge, both in reading and in your chosen profession as a biologist working alongside Stark and Banner, but much less insufferable than the other two.

When Loki had first come to terms with his interest in you, he had thought his subtle flirtations would be enough to alert you to his intentions, but when these failed to elicit any kind of response from you he had slowly become more and more bold with his innuendoes and flirtatious comments when in your presence. At first he had thought he was finally getting somewhere with you when you had began to match him in conversations, but when you made no sign of anything more, he had found himself stumped. At one point he had even stooped so low as to flirt with others in your presence in the hope that it would inspire enough jealously within you to reveal your feelings towards him, alas it did not work. No one had ever taken this long to fall victim to his seduction. He had admitted to himself that this time was different to his previous experiences as truly desired more with you than just a roll in the bed, not to say that did not also desire that with you, he had thought about that extensively, but he was not sure how to progress from here.

When you had walked in tonight though, looking exquisite in his colours he had decided that enough was enough, tonight he was going to finally bite the bullet and just ask you outright if you would be with him. It was not a decision that he had come to lightly, but he had finally come to the realisation that if he wanted something to happen he was going to have to do something about it for himself.

You didn’t know whether Loki had bribed the DJ before approaching you, or it was a shear unfortunate coincidence but as you continued dancing, each song seemed to get progressively dirtier and more sensual. This combined with finally dancing with him after having imagined it all night, the enticing smell of him from being in such close proximity, and the one or two drinks you’d had early were practically sending you into an early death.

Simultaneously Loki was experiencing a similar issue, when she wasn’t looking, Loki found his eyes being drawn from her face down to her chest, which with his height he had a fabulous view down, and combined with the lyrics and music he hands had seemingly began to move of his own accord and were veering dangerously further south. He decided he needed to do something soon, or he was going to have a very hard time of it.

As he leant down once again to speak into your ear, your breath hitched ever so slightly, and a faint flush bloomed across your cheeks- a fact that didn’t go entirely unnoticed by the god, and one that made his own pulse race. All hope that you felt the same way as him was not lost.

“Are you alright there darling? You’re looking awfully flushed. You’re not too warm in here are you?”

You had barely managed to stutter out what you could only imagine would have been a terrible excuse before he continued;

“Unless of course it is for the same reason as I.”

The hope that formed in your chest from the one sentence alone caused you to whip your head up, needing to search his gaze to see if he was really implying what you thought he was, surely he couldn’t be, there was no way that he could have felt the same way towards you as you did to him. Before you could continue with your self deprecation, he interrupted your thoughts once again;

“Now now darling stop that immediately, I can tell you are already overthinking this before I have even truly started. I do not know what it is that makes you doubt yourself so, but you must know that whatever it is I do not share that same belief.”

You held his breath as he said this, still not truly believing that this could be going where you wished it was, but not daring to do anything to break the spell just yet

“I was almost sure you would have known by now, but apparently I have not been clear enough in my appreciation or my advances towards you. I very much like you min elskling, you have well and truly captivated me heart and mind, body and soul. I would be honoured if you wished to court me, or as I believe you mortals say, go on a date with me” Loki finished with a release of breath, like saying all that had released a burden from upon his chest and he could finally breath deeply again now it was done.

You just stood there frozen in the middle of the dance floor, unsure if what you had heard was really happening, surely this was all some wonderful fever induced dream, and you were going to wake up face down on one of the desks in the lab any moment.

However Loki was reading your silence as rejection, and the insecurities that he had previously pushed aside were starting to flood back.

“Of course darling, if you do not feel the same then, I would be more than happy to just remain as friends,” it was of course a lie, but one that he would guard closely if that were the case, as he would never want for you to feel guilty for making an honest decision, and would much rather keep your friendship than not have you in his life at all.

“And I can completely understand why of course if you do not return my feelings, after all with my heritage I know-” before he could finish his sentence though you had reached up and pulled his face down to your height, before promptly pushing your mouth onto his in a scorching kiss. In the time Loki had began to panic and ramble, it had finally registered what Loki had been saying, and that it was in fact real, so before he could spiral any further you had to display your feelings towards him, and this had seemed like the most direct course of action.

After a brief moment in which Loki’s brain had to catch up to what was actually going on right now, he swiftly took charge of the kiss, both of you melting into it, especially as Loki opened his mouth to let he tongue dance along your lips before slowly meeting your own. At the same time, Lokis hands began to wander more actively, finally sliding that last little distance down to your behind, which he grasped firmly before sliding one hand down to bring your leg up and round his hip, letting you feel exactly what you were doing to him. Your own hands had found their way into his silky hair, finally fulfilling the desire you had held for many months to feel what it was like between your fingers, and when you gave it a gentle tug in the passion of the moment, a low growl made its way up Lokis throat, only enticing you in further.

It was only as a few wolf whistles broke through your bubble that you remembered exactly where you both were and that it was perhaps not the best place for what was clearly on its way to happening. It was with the same thought that Loki took your hand and began leading you out of the room, stopping only briefly first to growl lowly into your ear “we need to leave now darling, don’t you agree?” Before nipping your earlobe and pulling back to grin at you.

With absolutely no objections, and no subtlety either, you nodded before taking the lead taking you both in the direction your room, before stopping to remember the state you had left it in before the party in your distress to find an outfit. You blushed at the memory and changed direction slightly to lead you both to his rooms instead. Loki however took no notice, or simply did not care for the slight moment of hesitation, as at this point he didn’t particularly care where you were headed as long as it was close by, you were finally his and now it was time for him to claim you as such.

Part Two here:

Thank you so much for reading if you made it this far! Please do let me know what you think x

#tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki x you #no y/n #dancing #green dress #tony stark #stark being silly #scientist reader

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sayafics · 7 months

Text

Dance of Shadows - Chapter III

Sorry for the long wait, but I do hope you enjoy this chapter! I haven't had time to proof-read but pelase let me know if I made any errors.

Love you guys <33 ENJOY!!

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Masterlist

Saenyra Targaryen was the youngest daughter of King Viserys I and Queen Consort, Lady Aemma Arryn.

The girl was only a year younger than her sister, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and she had grown up in her shadow. With no male heir, aside from the Rogue Prince - who was repeatedly banished from the kingdom before finding a fleeting excuse to return - Rhaenyra was seen as the heir of Viserys.

With such recognition came the adoration of both the people of the Seven Kingdoms and their father.

Such notions were not extended to Saenyra, a child who was truly defined by her sex. She was to be traded off as a brooding mare when her father deemed it time. That was what the Lord Hand had told her.

Otto Hightower was a shrewd man, able to recognise even the smallest of cracks which he could weather and weaken. He had found one in Saenyra - a tiny crevice that grew into a gaping wound as her mother gasped her last breath. A crack in her heart and a tear in her soul that reeked of agony and desolation as her sister sought comfort in Ser Cole, and her father in the unwilling arms of Alicent Targaryen.

Saenyra was a disaster, a wavering opportunity Otto Hightower couldn't allow himself to pass.

***

Saenyra would find herself bumping into the man when she walked to the library, in hopes of finding a book invigorating enough to distract her from her fumbling thoughts. He would tag along, share encouraging words and place a comforting hand upon her shoulder.

Otto was not blind to the lack of parental love she was offered, and though she was a beautiful sight, he knew that becoming the figure that she was missing in her life was the best way to assure she played to his tunes.

Saenyra was not much taller than her older sister. Her hair flowed down her back in tempered curls and brushed across her thighs, her eyes were a violent hue of purple, and her smiles were shy. She did not have Rhaenyra's fierce nature, nor her confident persona - Rhaenyra knew the power she held in her beauty, and she knew how to use it to her advantage.

Saenyra was ignorant to her charms, rarely leaving her room since she had no dragon to tend. Her dragon had not hatched when it had been placed in her cradle, and being a Princess meant she was confined to the Red Keep without a dragon to help her escape.

She could see how her father and uncle looked at her sister in admiration, how her mother coddled and gushed over her when she performed tricks with Syrax. It caused her heart to ache, knowing that she would never be looked at with such adoration, with such love and care.

It was a realisation she had been burdened with for so long. A realisation she had begun to hope was false after her mother's death.

As her relationship with her father crumbled to dust, she built a tentative friendship with Otto Hightower - oblivious to the Hand's ulterior motives.

***

The day her mother had passed, Saenyra had been by her side, leaving the tourney when her father had leapt from his chair. She held those moments close to her heart.

In those last few moments, she was able to breathe in her mother's comforting scent, hear the sound of her voice, and feel her reassuring touches.

It had all happened so fast, pain turned to agony, and calm turned to dread. Aemma was terrified, a heartaching sensation of horror clogging her throat and muffling her ears at the sensations wreaking havoc in her body.

And all Saenyra could do was watch.

She hadn't let the maids or the nurses push her from the room, had ignored her father's pained pleas and the Maester's sharp orders. She had stood in the shadows of a room that no longer held light, of a room drained of its brightness as her mother fought to continue breathing.

And with her mother's last breath, an anguished cry escaped her as she stumbled towards her mother's cooling body, babbling like the child she had been for such a short time only for them to hold her at bay.

Saenyra had lost herself so quickly, trapped in the confines of her mind - a passive face and a clouded mind.

Whilst her father lost himself in his disease and the role of a King without his other half, Daemon threw himself into the arms of his whores and Rhaenyra into the grasp of her fantasies that she believed to be just out of reach.

***

Saenyra had found herself wandering through the Keep, searching for echoes of her mother's presence within the cracks and crevices hidden within the walls and frames around her.

Her mind felt numb, but her heart ached under the heavy weight of grief. Her eyes were dry - there were simply no more tears to weep. But her hands would still tremble, her lips quiver, if she thought about her mother's passing for a moment too long.

It seemed buried in the whispers of her mind, she had not realised the twists and turns she had taken. She now found herself in front of the doors where her father held his Council meetings.

The corridor was empty, knights nowhere to be seen. And the door was cracked open, as though it had been left so purposefully.

Curiosity was now a foreign feeling admist the mournful sorrow that twitched within her, a stark reminder of the loss she had faced only days ago. It was the whisper of something, of a name which had her inching forward despite her damning thoughts and sinking heart.

Daemon.

Otto had said Daemon's name.

"He toasted to Prince Baelon," his voice sounded grave, his words slow and enunciated. "To the King's son."

Saenyra felt her eyes burn at those words, Baelon had been her mother's son too. Aemma had gone through the hardship of being with a child, of labour and of birth. She had suffered and died from it.

Baelon was her mother's child first. Not Viserys'.

"Styling him..." Otto was purposefully hesitant, as though he was trying to build up the gravity of what he had heard from his spies, "The Heir for a Day."

Saenyra felt her stomach drop at those words, eyes clouding with anger and heart filling with resentment. Her mother had died - had died a brutal and violent death.

How could Daemon disrespect her sacrifice like this? How could he spit upon her mother's strength and her mother's heart?

She could not listen for another moment, ears burning with fury as she stepped away from the unguarded doors. Unbeknownst to her, Otto Hightower's patient eyes followed her raging form as she made her way out of the Keep.

***

Saenyra had never left the Keep much, without a dragon she didn't have much reason to. But she would still lounge under the pretty trees and amongst the fragrant bushes, reading a history book or drawing her surroundings.

She had not found much joy in that after her mother's passing. Every colour she saw resembled her mother's eyes a shade too much.

Now, walking into the Silk Street, far too angry to notice the stares of incredulity or scandalous whispers which began to spread around her, she marched in a furious flurry towards a brothel guarded by knights she recognised all too well.

The guards hesitated, inching forward minutely to hold the Princess back. But her eyes were blazing with a roaring fury, and they were terrified to face her wrath.

Saenyra had been the quiet sister, the tame Princess.

The girl marching past them into the filth of the brothel was not the girl the people of the Keep knew her to be. She was a hue of tumultuous flames, she was bright and she was set alight by fury.

Saenyra stumbled in her steps for a moment. Although she knew of the acts that took place in a brothel, she had not expected to see nude bodies scattered across the building, and she most definitely didn't expect the sounds.

Heat flared to her cheeks, the tips of her ears flushing pink as she looked around her with wide eyes. She felt a warmth settle in the pit of her stomach, a shiver pulsating down her spine as she shifted uncomfortably upon her legs.

Her mind, which had been riddled with fury, came to a halt. Embarassment bubbled in her throat as she looked sheepishly around the brothel, cringed at the moans and pleas she heard from nude workers, shied away from curious folk.

It all came to a head when she heard the sound of a drunk and confused man, "Princess?"

She spun on her feet, suddenly feeling so out of place and having forgotten all her anger at the sight of a place so foreign to her.

She almost sighed in relief at the sight of her uncle, even walked towards him with hesitant steps as though her mind had already erased his horrible words.

It was when a dark-haired woman, tall and slender, tan and devilishly beautiful, came to stabd at his side, that Saenyra took a step back.

She took in Daemon's state, how his shirt had been thrown on as though he was in a rush, how his buttons were broken and his chest lay bare, she saw how his pants hung low on his hips and she could see the sliver of skin that guided her eyes down lower.

She forced herself to meet Daemon's eyes, feigning ignorance at his amused stare.

The woman he was with came to his side, stood in front of him almost protectively. She placed a hand upon his bare chest, petting him as though he was a tamed pet. She barely looked at Saenyra as she spoke, "it is dangerous for a princess to be here at all, let alone so late in the day. I will see to it that you are escorted back to your castle by a knight."

Saenyra's eye twitched in irritation, who did this woman think she was? To order around the knights who only listened to the royal family?

Then she glanced at Daemon, who had not so much as moved, let alone remove her wandering fingers. Was this the result of Daemon's influence? Did his loyalty to this woman tie his Gold Cloaks to her?

She felt her gut roil with nausea, and her anger washed over her with a renewed vigour.

"You sicken me."

It was a wrathful and seething whisper. But it had its intended effect - Daemon's eyes widened at the insult before he clenched his jaw to reign himself in.

The dark-haired woman only sighed, "Princess, I mus-"

"You must remain quiet when the Princess is talking. For I will happily ask for your tongue if you continue," Mysaria looked at the girl in shock. From all the times Daemon had spoken about her, about her naivety and her calm, about wanting to keep her safe and untainted - this was not the girl he knew, not the girl he praised.

Worry clenched at her heart at the thought that somehow this was still exactly what Daemon needed.

"Now, I ask that you leave us to our discussion."

Saenyra did not wait for her to reply, she simply watched her uncle intently. Daemon nodded, and Mysaria walked away hesitantly.

"This is not a place for a princess like you."

"This is not a place for a prince either, especially one who is wedded. And yet, here we are."

"You should not be here, Saenyra," his voice deepened, as his face became stern. He stepped towards her, looking down his nose in disappointment, "you do not know what the people will speak."

"And yet I do. After all, that is why I am here. You could not even keep your mouth shut long enough to save yourseld from Father's wrath. But before you meet his, you shall meet mine," she glared at him, unflinchingly.

"And what is it that I have done to offend you so gravely, hm? Did I not wish you a good night? Did I not buy you a ring extravagant enough for your liking? Did I not praise your beauty like I did your sister's? Did I not fuck you, like I know-"

"Shut up."

They stared at each other for a moment, and Daemon's gaze faltered under her hurt expression. He was not blind. He had always noticed her infatuation in him, and as his own began to build, he knew he was doing an equally horrible job at hiding it, too.

"You have insulted the memory of my brother. Of my mother. She has not been returned to the Seven for more than a few days, and yet here you are - spitting upon her memories with your hurtful words."

"I have done no such thing," despite all the conviction in his voice, Saenyra could not scrub out the image of the brothel worker pressed up against Daemon, despite the vows he made to the Lady of Runestone, from her mind. Daemon was a liar.

Daemon is a liar.

And Otto Hightower would not lie about such treasonous acts like this.

He would not risk his position as Hand.

"'Heir for a Day'. Does that not ring any bells, Uncle?"

Daemon's face fell, his expression becoming stoic as Saenyra let a crack of laughter escape her - pained and weak.

"I have heard the whispers of your mocking tones against my late mother and late brother. Do you have no care of your words?"

"My words are simple truths. Everyone grieves in different ways, you have no right to judge mine."

"No right? Your words have caused harm to that of my family, of my father and my sister. We have lost a mother and a brother, Father has lost a wife and a child. And yet, here you sit amongst your whores claiming to be grieving."

"And what would you have me do?"

Her eyes were pleading as she looked into his own, welling up as she sweltered with the very emotions she had spent days hiding from.

"Anything but this."

"Leave, Saenyra. A princess should not be found in a place such as this," he repeated.

"Do you truly have no care of what you have said? What you have done?" She looked at him with incredulity painted across her face. Was he truly unable to see the consequences of his own words?

"And why should I?"

"Because he will send you away. You have crossed a line, and he will punish you for it with another exile. And perhaps this is one you will not be welcomed back from."

Daemon scoffs, rolling his eyes as he turns away from the tearful girl. Saenyra only bristles in anger.

"Does that satisfy you Uncle? To know your vile words have sent you away from King's Landing? Have sealed your fate away from the kingdom?" Away from me.

"Answer me, Uncle."

Rage bubbled up his throat, flashed through his eyes and he leapt towards Saenyra, hand wrapping around her throat as he tugged her closer.

This was the truest form of the beast that lurked under Daemon's skin, the truth of his horrors and violence.

She looked up at him, eyes pooled with unshed tears and yet not an ounce of fear could be seen. They gleamed with grief, for her mother, for her brother and for something more.

"Do not call me that," he seethed, "do not call me Uncle"

He fretted over her, wiping dripping tears as his voice hushed, almost on the edge of desperation - "call me Daemon. Say it. Say my name, call me. Call for me, call to me."

His fervor whispers sang in her ears, echoing through her body.

She wanted to speak his name, wanted to call to him. But her mind thought of his words - Heir for a Day.

"We are nothing more than that," her voice shook with a despaired whisper, "we are uncle and niece. There is nothing more, and so no reason for me to call to you Uncle. For I know you would never come."

He would not understand the gravity of his words, and surrounded by his whores and desperate men she found her need for his understanding dwindling as the seconds pass.

Her hands came to pry away his own, softly encasing his hands in the palms of her own.

Saenyralooked into Daemon's eyes one last time, sharing a sad smile as she stepped back.

She left through the same door she came, asking the closest knight to escort her back to the Keep and threatening to have his head if he spoke a word of her misadventures today.

Back in the brothel, Daemon was a seething beast. He ravaged through the brothel, screaming and breaking.

Before he fell into Mysaria's arms that night, he threatened every man, woman and child with a long and painful death should they speak a word of his princess.

Saenyra may hate him, but Daemon does not think he could feel anything less than love.

***

Since her mother had passed, Saenyra simply existed, quiet and quaint - her presence was overlooked, an ever-present shadow paid no mind by anyone of Council or greater.

Nor her father or sister batted an eye, and with her uncle banished, neither could he.

After Daemon had been sent away from King's Landing, Otto could feel the tension building between himself and the King. He could feel the power slipping from his fingers as Daemon's parting words of calling Otto a 'cunt', of insinuating he was a dishonourable man were echoing in Viserys' head like the guttural growl of a dragon on the hunt.

Otto needed a way to cast balance, to seize power. And then he found it.

Princess Saenyra had confined herself within her chambers, content to rot away in the comfort of her bed much like her mother had. Her mind replayed Aemma's last moments like an endless recital. She couldn't escape her mother's cries nor her pale, cold body.

Saenyra didn't have the courage to appear for her mother's funeral, appearances be damned. Nor did she have the courage to face her father and sister.

She missed countless dinners, numerous banquets, ignored several calls, and avoided countless people. She would only stray from her room to visit the library, and it was only one coincidental collision with the timid and frail girl that had seeded a plan into Otto's mind for something great and good.

***

Otto Hightower is a shrewd man, there were many ways he could play the situation at hand. But he had chosen to simply sit and wait, strongly assured all the pieces would fall into place.

His meetings with the youngest princess soon became intentional, brushing past her on his way out of the library or allowing her to stumble into him as she took short walks through the garden, trying to gather herself from her spiralling thoughts.

It had not taken long for her to take part in tentative conversations, and soon it cane to be that the little princess would seek out his presence.

It was hard to play ignorance at her blatant need for attention, to pretend to be blind to how she craved a listening ear and a praising voice. Now that her mother had passed and her father had become reclusive, Saenyra truly had no one at her side to offer the love she so headily desired.

And a spark ignited within her as she began to receive it from Otto. His dark ambitions for the throne were hidden behind a guise of paternal love, seeping its way through questions of Saenyra's lessons with the Septa, discussions on the history of King's Landing and the Targaryen ancestry.

Although he tried his best not to, a small ache of fondness bubbled deep in Otto's heart at her endless rambles and the excitement that twinkled in her eyes as she spouted off questions and spoke of anything which held her intrigue.

There was a childish glimmer in the way the princess held herself, full of grace and politeness but an endless bundle of joy and energy too. It was something so akin to what radiated from his late wife that, as much as he would deny it, the lines between his ambition and his care began to blur.

There was a festering guilt, of course. That he was showing a love to this girl, when he was forcing his own child to do unspeakable things for the power he craved and giving the love she deserved to another was a heavy weight upon his shoulders. But he bore it with eagerness, accepted it with duty and sacrifice.

Otto Hightower would do what he must, in order to have his blood sit upon the throne.

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta @pet1t3 @serving-targaryen-realness @tojigirl @do-it-for-kicks @aprosiacperson @moongirl27

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #dance of shadows #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen angst

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lilmisssona · 3 months

Text

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋 23 Reasons, Why I Love You 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

Pairing: Idol Bf! I.N × Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 5.4k+

Warnings and Tags: SMAU, Cursing, Established Relationship, mentions of cheating, basically INNIE'S being a d*ck here, angsty beginning, fluffy at the end.

A/N: My first one ahhh, it's my birthday gift for our maknae on top! It's a bit long so buckle up and Enjoy! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Reuse And Translation Not Allowed 🙅‍♀️🚫

✮⋆˙Main Masterlist ✮⋆˙

Four Days. It has been four days, since you last saw Jeongin, your boyfriend. Normally the day gap wouldn't bother you, as you were accustomed to the feeling of being alone.

Your boyfriend being an idol, would leave for days for concerts and interviews; sometimes even weeks...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

But this time its different. This time it was because of an argument. A stupid one at that. Over minimal things, over both of your assumptions.

And you've been fighting your urge everyday to not go knocking at his room and slapping some sense into him. After all it wasn't your fault anyways...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

"Babe, I was only trying to help," You argued. "Really YN ?" " I don't think you are" Jeongin paused before muttering...

" I don't want YOU out of all people to be pitying me "

"Is it that hard to go to a therapist Innie ?"

You softly cooed at him, looking up to his familiar doe eyes...But only an unfamiliar icy cold look stared back at you.

"If not, then let me take care of you, how does a warm bubble bath and some massages sound? ''

You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled. He flinched and withdrew his hand from yours.

" WHY THE FUCK DO YOU ALL TREAT ME LIKE A BABY ??? " He screamed.

" I'm not a baby anymore! I can take care of myself "

"Why are you..." He broke down, hot tears streaming down his face....

" Why are all of you telling me to do this, do that! I am fucking tired of it !!"

"Channie told me what's going on..."

" You don't sleep much nowadays, are always zoning out in practice and only come out of your bed to eat when the members call to you "

" You know you can always talk to me Innie ''

Your eyes are blurry now because of the tears so you looked down at the floor.

" So this is all a plot you made, so that you can get rid of me. " He glared at you.

" What ?? " You stared back at him, shocked.

" What does going to a therapist and taking care of yourself, have to do anything with me getting rid of you"

" And why would I do that!!!"

"Don't lie to me yn, I know you've been crushing on my best friend, Heesung, since a long time"

" I've seen the texts " He smirked.

" What The Fuck Jeongin ??" You spat back, glaring at him with tears in your eyes.

" What made you even think that I'm cheating on you ?"

"Idk" " You met him behind my back at the cafe last week."

"And you also said, don't tell Jeongin,"

" I watched you get all giggly with him"

"Oh... " You chuckled, relief washed all over you as you realised what's going on.

" You're completely mis reading the situation babe, it's not what it looks like "

" They always say that..." He muttered, clenching his teeth..

" Is that why you've been ignoring all my texts since the last week ?" You asked him calmly.

"You know what leave me actually"

"It'll do us both something good"

" You can finally get the peace you want."

You gasped, his words hitting you like a dagger in your chest.

" Do you even know what you're saying Jeongin ?" You screamed at him.

" Do you know why I met him ? No, right ? "

"Then how can you even assume I cheated on you "

" I don't know YN, it just doesn't seem right"

" I know I haven't been able to give you much time as I've been stressed out recently due to the upcoming comeback"

" I am dead tired inside and you.... " His voice is hoarse from all the crying..

" If you're happier with him, then I guess.."

"Jeongin...if that's what you think of me...I don't think..." You trailed off

" I should leave, I don't think I can do this anymore"

You watched him leave, closing the door behind him, a little too harshly.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

The sound of the oven beeping, made you snap out of your thoughts. You looked around, and lazily got up from your couch to the kitchen.

Taking out the reheated pizza and putting it on a plate, you aimlessly scrolled through channels until you found one, a boring sitcom. You looked at the screen mindlessly and munched on your pizza.

You were half an hour into the plot when a notification popped up on your phone screen.

Picking it up you checked, it was an event reminder...

Reminder: INNIE'S Birthday 🎂 8th Feb

You threw your phone to the other end of the couch in frustration. You buried your head in your hands as fresh tears streamed down your face.

Oh how excited you were, to plan his first birthday. It was also your first anniversary with him. As this was the day, 8 Feb, one year ago, that you met him, in a cafe....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

You two hit it off immediately, talking till hours until the cafe owners kicked you out. After a few weeks of dating, he asked you out officially to be his girlfriend.

You finally thought you found the one, he's the most amazing human being and the sweetest boyfriend.

Sure, it hasn't always been pink skies and rosy days, you have had your differences. He was away most of the time. But you understood...

You understood how difficult it is the manage the idol life as it is, let alone having a hidden relationship at that.

Because the moments you two shared together, melted all your loneliness and worries away. But now everything has changed.

The once familiar face of your smiley boy now gave an unfamiliar, immense pain in your chest.

What have you even done wrong, anyways ? You were planning a surprise party for him.

You wanted everything to be perfect. So you were taking tips from Heesung on which dishes he misses the most from his hometown.

Not that you don't know. But you wanted to make sure its to his liking. And also you wanted to invite Heesung to Jeongin's birthday.

It was going to be a surprise one, so you wanted Heesung to distract him anyhow, from going to your home that day.

At Least until 5:30 as you'll have everything ready by that time.... But he thought you...were...cheating on him. Oh how could he even think of that ?

" Don't lie to me yn, I know you've been crushing on my best friend, Heesung, since a long time."

" You know what leave me actually" "It'll do us both something good "

" Crushing on Heesung ?" "Since when did he think that I am crushing on his best friend ?"

You muttered to yourself.

Heesung is nothing but like an older brother to you and an amazing friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Another notification popped up on your phone. You got up again from your seat, to pick up your phone that you threw away at the other end of the couch. It was a text from Chan.

You read the messages but decided to not reply to them. It's been 4 days since the fight. And your pride will always get in the way to even bother to message him. After all it wasn't your fault he assumed such shitty things about you.

Still, your heart was not made of steel. There was still a soft spot behind it that was missing him, your boyfriend. So reluctantly, you picked up the phone again and replied to the message.

Grabbing your coat from the hanger, you stepped out of the house around 7:45. The breeze outside chilled you to the bones.

So you tucked your hands inside your coat pockets. You missed the warmth of your boyfriend's hands.... Sighing, you put your head down and walked through the path to the cafe....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

A familiar scent of freshly ground coffee beans greeted you as you opened the door of the cafe.

Chan was already waiting at the corner table and waved at you when he saw you walking through the door.

"You're here!"

"Sorry to make you wait." you smiled at him.

"I've already ordered your usuals, they should be here soon" He nervously smiled.

"Thank you Channie '' You replied, shifting your gaze suddenly to look at a couple on the right of your table.

Reading your expressions, Chan cleared his throat and spoke " So, umm, about Jeongin.."

" Right, how's he ? " You nervously replied as you fidgeted with your hands.

"Not good, '' Chan replied.

" He still doesn't talk to us or reply to our messages, let alone come out of the room"

You sighed, taking a sip from your cup of coffee

"We had an argument"

" Four days ago... " you replied to Chan, who nodded in understanding.

"He thought I was cheating on him..."

"What ?" " How could that boy even think of that..." He huffed in annoyance.

"I was planning his birthday party with Heesung"

" So I met him at another cafe a few times and discussed the surprise plan"

" Apparently he followed me one day and saw that I was laughing and talking with Heesung"

" And that idiot assumed the worst ?" He sighed and touched his temples.

"Seriously, I really have to talk some sense into him..."

" There's no point anyways..." You took a deep breath to calm yourself.

" He has changed..."

"No he's not,"

" I know him since long enough, so I know he's not changed..."

And Chan indeed knew him long enough to know that he's sulking, regretting all his life decisions...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

Jeongin was tossing and turning in bed. Not a blink of sleep in his eyes. He felt frustrated, angry even.

How the heck can he even accuse his girlfriend of such a thing. She has been nothing but a wonderful girlfriend to him all year.

She was his sunshine and he was her smiley boy. How could he even think that Heesung and you were cheating behind his back ?

He muffled his screams into the pillow as tears streamed down his face.

He confronted Heesung that same day... Heesung was shocked, explaining to his friend, they had been meeting for a surprise party planned for him.

He was too ashamed to go back to your house now. Too ashamed to tell the members that he fucked up.

So he found his escape behind the closed doors of his dorm room. And that's where he's been camping, since the past three days....

He regrets everyday the things he told you that day. He was really stressed since the past weeks for the upcoming comeback.

He was so exhausted to the point of slacking in practices. The routine was killing him mentally and physically.

He was depressed, maybe...he thought. However, that didn't give him the right to lash out at you.

But when he saw your texts last week with Heesung with the code word - " Don't Tell Jeongin 🤫''

He was hurt, shocked even. Something in his mind told him to follow you and so he did... He watched you get all giggly with Heesung.

"Why do these two look so good together? ''

He angrily muttered to himself. He couldn't take it anymore. He left the scene, heartbroken…

Since that day he's just sleeping and practising everyday. He didn't even want to eat but when the members called for him collectively, he just sighed and came downstairs and ate.

When he finally got an off day to came home, he immediately packed his stuff and left for your house.

Seeing you coax him for a therapist snapped something in him as the next thing you know, he was spitting fire at you with his harsh words.

Oh how he thought you were cheating and even thinking of breaking up with you.

He left the scene before you can tell him what happened....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

" How about you two talk it out with each other, tomorrow before midnight strikes ?" Chan asked.

" What do you mean ?" You curiously replied.

" I mean I'll slap that idiot out of bed and talk some sense into him"

" Then you two can meet at a designated place, and can talk it out wholeheartedly ?"

He let out a nervous chuckle, unsure of what you'll reply.

" That's not a bad idea, actually, but the pain is still there Channie, '' You sheepishly smiled at him.

" I don't think I can handle another argument, if it comes to that..." You buried your face in your hands.

" I thought he was the love of my life, but now...I don't know anymore... "

" Hey, hey, its ok YN if you don't wanna do this '' Chan reassured you.

'' But remember it's 27 hours to strike midnight 8 Feb."

" And I don't want to get your first birthday as well as your first anniversary with him to get ruined."

" But if you don't want to do anything I'll understand and make him understand too "

" Because at the end, it's up to you to, as you're not the one in the fault.."

You sat back and pondered a little over your thoughts. Talking out your differences is actually a very great idea, as you two can decide whether or not it's good to stay together again.

But the hiccups of something bad happening plagued your mind again and you massage your temples in frustration

" You know what Channie ?"

" Mhm ?" Chan replied.

" I'll let you know by tomorrow morning ?"

" That sounds good " Chan beamed as he packed his stuff from the table.

" Leaving already ?" You asked.

" Yes I have to prepare something for tomorrow.."

" What do you mean ?" You asked in confusion.

'' You'll know if you say yes " He smiled as you two waved each other goodbyes....

Hurriedly, you stepped foot into the house. The bitter cold biting your bones and everything underneath.

You immediately turned on the heater and removed your coat. You sat back on your couch and took a deep breath.

" Is it really worth to talk about it ?" You muttered to yourself.

" He was the best I had, but after what happened 4 days ago..."

" I don't know....uggggh!!"

You cried out in frustration wondering if you can face him again.

" But like Channie said, it doesn't hurt to get closure..." You thought.

" We can talk out our differences and if he still stays the same..."

" I will..." " Leave him" You shivered at the thought.

Thinking of the worst, yet still determined to get closure, you picked up your phone and messaged Chan.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

" Hyung it's 6 in the morning, let me fucking sleep! Stop knocking please!!!" Jeongin screamed as he heard continuous knocks and kicks at his door.

" Not until you come out!" Chan screamed.

" I'll keep kicking the door Jeongin!! ''

Chan never called his sweet maknae by his name. It was always Innie or something sweet. So when Jeongin heard his name, he knew it was serious.

"Fine! If you don't open the door, you might lose your only chance to see yn again.." Chan screamed.

Hearing those words, something stirred in him and he hurriedly opened the door....Chan was shocked to see his condition. His hair was dishevelled, there were bags under his eyes as if he hadn't slept for days...he looked so weak, so tired.

" Oh My God..." Chan gasped as if he just saw a ghost. " Innie...I..my god"

" I know I look like shit Hyung '' Jeongin huffed.

Tears suddenly started brimming his eyes, as he looked down at the floor.

" I fucked up hyung " "I..I...lost yn, my love..." He cried.

" Hey it might not be so late, she still hasn't left Seoul yet..."

" Her flight to go back to her hometown, tonight is at 9:30 pm"

" We still have a lot of time to make it up to her" Chan reassured Jeongin.

" Hyung, I don't think...she will take me back" Jeongin spoke in between his sobs.

"Tell me Innie, do you love her ?" Chan asked calmly.

" More than I love myself"

" She means the world to me, she's the sweetest and kindest human being and I am so so lucky to have her" Jeongin wiped his tears as he spoke.

" Then why don't you show her ?"

" Show what ?" He asked curiously.

" That how much you love her, how much she means to you and what you will do to never break her heart again"

A light bulb sparked in his head as Chan spoke to him about the plan... He nodded and agreed to everything.

" Let's get you a makeover first and some fresh clothes"

Chan spoke as he covered his nose playfully

" You kinda smell ngl"

" Shut up!" Jeongin punched Him playfully in the stomach as Chan laughed.

" So the plan's set, lets call it, 23 Reasons, Why I Love You "

"You're so cheesy Hyung " Jeongin rolled his eyes.

" Hey someone has to be the romantic one here " Chan chuckled.

" You're right, Let's do this!"

Jeongin smiled with a newfound determination in his eyes as they both stepped out of his room to the living room.

" What, Jeongin did what ?! " Minho glared at Jeongin as he heard what happened from Chan.

" Yes my boy, you seriously fucked up " Hyunjin spoke soon after.

" I know that Hyune " Jeongin rolled his eyes.

" We came here to ask for your help not to listen to the obvious "

" What's with the attitude ?" Minho asked him in annoyance.

" Sorry, I am just so nervous, I don't want anything wrong to happen. Please hyung.... "

He pleaded to Minho, with his big doe eyes.

" Ugghh fine, Innie" Minho sighed,

" Just don't ever do this to them again "

" I promise it will never happen again."

" I will turn a new leaf "

" Then I'll bring the dishes by 5 then while its still hot."

" And I'll find some time in between the breaks to paint something before 5" Hyunjin spoke after minho.

" Right, practice..." He sighed,

" I missed out on so much for 4 days "

" Don't stress, we've convinced our manager for two more days off for you so that you can be with ynnie tomorrow and the day after..." Minho smiled reassuring him.

" Really ?" " You're a lifesaver hyung "

" Just don't think this will happen everyday " Minho snickered,

" My favours are only valid for limited hours of time"

" Understood!"

" Now go get some facials or something, you look horrible"

Jeongin gasped at Hyunjin's words.

" Ughh rude Hyune "

" What ? I spoke the truth " Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

" Fine I'm going with Channie hyung"

" Please keep the things ready before I return, I request"

" Don't worry, we got you bro! " Han replied as he arrived.

Jeongin whispered a thank you to everyone before leaving with Chan...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

Meanwhile, you were throwing away every cloth you can find in your closet.

" Uggh, I look ugly in this " You cried.

" Nooo, this makes me feel bloated "

You were frustrated. You were trying on dresses for an hour but nothing seems to fit you.

" I don't have time for shopping " You cried to the thin air in frustration.. Just then, right on cue you heard a knock on the door. Cautiously you opened the door...

" Delivery for YN/LN ?"

" Yes that's me " you replied.

" But I didn't order anything ?..." You asked confused.

" Mr. Jeongin told me to deliver this to you "

" Ahhh, I see " You now understood what this is for. You thanked the delivery man and took your parcel back to your room.

Eagerly, you opened it and gasped.... It was a beautiful blue and white themed outfit, curated for you.

There was a beautiful blue knitted dress, a white coat, white boots and a cute blue bag. There was also a note attached to it.

'' Please let me make it up to you, one last time "

" Meet me at 5:30 there... J "

You smiled when you read his initials.

You gasped when you realised you're blushing.

" Ugh, YN'' You slapped your cheek. " Get it together, it's just a talk with him, not a date..." You sighed and stared at the box of clothes, contemplating if you should wear it..

" Fine, I'll wear it, I guess. '' You quickly wore your outfit on and did your makeup. You heard the alarm suddenly indicating its 5 now.

" Shit, I should leave now, or I'll be late"

Your uber arrived minutes after, and you reached the hotel. You took a deep breath as you stepped inside the vast doors of it.

" Hi, I am a guest of Mr. Jeongin ? Room no 23, I suppose"

You nervously spoke to the lady, at the front desk. She checked your name and your ids. After checking everything, she smiled and director you to the elevator.

Thanking her, you entered the elevator and pressed the buttons. It was on the 7th floor. As every floor passed by you, your heart beat increased. The dread of something worse happening hurts your chest so bad. You cursed yourself for overthinking so much.

The doors opened and you were greeted by a long corridor. You stepped out and walked to the end of the passage. There it was Room No. 23. You took a deep breath and opened the door....

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

It was pitch black inside, as you turned the knob and entered

" Jeongin ?" You called out to the thin air, but to no answered.

" What the hell! Am I in the wrong room ?" You muttered to yourself... Confused and somewhat scared of the dark you decided to leave when the door suddenly shut in front of you, covering you in pitch black darkness.

You panicked and tried to bang on the door when a text popped up

Innie💕 : Look behind

Still half confused, you turned around and gasped....

There was a beautiful trail laden with candles and pink roses that led to the bedroom...

You were surprised yet curious. So you followed the path...

Every step on the floor had something written -:

🌹You're the most beautiful woman in the world🌹

🌹The kindest and sweetest🌹

🌹So lucky to have you🌹

🌹So proud of your accomplishments🌹

🌹You're my best friend🌹

🌹I am so sorry🌹

And then the last one,

🌹Please give me another chance🌹

You took the last step and reached the bedroom and looked up and gasped again....

It was beautifully decorated with balloons and floral wreaths everywhere. There was a heart made with roses in the middle of the bed There was also something written in the middle of the heart, with flowers and twigs -

" I love you to the moon and back" You giggled seeing it.

"Innie ?"

You called out, but there was no one... You looked around, there was a beautiful bouquet of flowers on your left..

." Lilac and pink roses" your favourite, you thought. There was also a tray of your favourite food laid out, closed off with a transparent lid so that it stays warm.

"Mandu, Katsu rice and Jjajangmyeon ?" You giggled. There was a gorgeous painting of you on your right.

" Oh wow, thats me " you gasped.

You thought of how this was all Jeongin's plan to make it up to you. But the man of the hour was to be seen nowhere... You searched for him in the bathroom, the balcony and back to the living room. He was nowhere to be seen. You were lost in your thoughts, when suddenly you heard something....

**I never meant to break your heart, my love**

**But I stumbled down the road, just like a fool

does**

**I let my ego lead the way, oh, how it blinds**

**Now I'm left here searching for the words to

make it right...**

There he was, standing behind you, wearing a white shirt and blue trousers. His hair was brushed out nicely.

"He looked so handsome," you thought.

He played the guitar as he sang again.

**Heartfelt apologies, can't you see?**

**I'm drowning in regrets, oh, set me free**

**Let me show you, darling, let me prove**

**That my love for you is strong, and oh, so true*

You giggled and clapped as he finished his song with a bow.

" What's all this ?" You asked.

He didn't say anything, instead he held your hand and walked you from the bedroom to the bed. Confused, you tagged along... He motioned to sit on the bed as he sat himself. He then finally spoke...

" YN, I am truly so sorry for what I have done..."

" Will you please give me another chance ? I beg you "

" Jeongin, I understand that you're sorry but the words you told me that day hurt me so badly and honestly...I don't anymore"

You sniffled a little as you looked at him..

" YN, I am so sorry..."

" I don't know what came over me that day. '' He looked down as tears clouded his vision.

" The stress of the comeback burnt me out so much everyday..."

" The stress was too much to bear "

" You could've at least told me that you're suffering so much " you replied.

" Last week, when I was home and saw you giggling on the phone... I couldn't help but be curious, so as you left to shower, I went through your phone and saw the messages.."

" There it was, messages exchanged between you and Heesung, to meet that evening"

" And a - Don't tell Jeongin! at the end "

" When you told me, you're going shopping, my heart broke..."

" You were lying to me, I thought " " So I followed you and saw you there, at the cafe"

" Giggling and blushing with Heesung, my friend"

" My heart to shattered to pieces..."

" Everything I had, I was losing it..."

" I lost myself, I was lacking at work and now you..." He broke down in tears.

" Innie, I had no idea this is how you felt, I'm so sorry. "

" No, I'm the one at fault"

" I was so clouded in my head, overthinking everything and I assumed the worst..."

" I started slacking at work after that, didn't eat, didn't sleep much"

" The members were disappointed in me " And then when you told me to go see a therapist..." He spoke in between sobs...

" I don't know why, Something broke in me.." "

I thought I am a failure and everyone wanted to get rid of me..." you squeezed his hand to reassure him...

" Innie, these meetings were just for planning your surprise birthday party"

" I couldn't hold it any longer that day." " I snapped at you, telling you we should break up..." He buried his face in his hands.

" Innie please don't cry, its not your fault...I shouldn't have lied to you, I am really sorry " You replied.

" When I called Heesung that day " He continued, after wiping his tears.

" I realised I fucked up so bad"

" It was all planning for my birthday"

" I felt so ashamed of myself. I thought you will never want to see my face." You wiped his tears with your hands.

" So I hid in my dorm room and didn't get out untill today...."

" I am truly so sorry ynnie, I hope you can forgive me one day.."

"Innie " You held his hand.

" I am so sorry I have made you feel like that " He looked back at you,

" Before you leave for your flight, let me make it up to you, one last time ? "

" My flight ? " you asked confused.

" Yeah it's at 9:30 right ? Channie hyung told me"

" But I don't have any flight, I'm not going anywhere... "

" But Channie hyung...Oh "

He realised it was all a plan by his Channie hyung to get him out. He looked at you with hopeful eyes.

" So you're not going anywhere ? " he asked.

" No " you replied.

Suddenly, he hugged you tightly. You were surprised by this but melted in his arms as he held you tight. You missed this. He smelled of the familiar cologne you loved so much. It felt like bliss, like old times....You two pulled away after sometime.

" If you're not going then let me show you, How much I love you"

" Let me show you 23 Reasons why I love you "

" Why 23 " you chuckled.

He cupped your face in his hands.

" 23 is a very significant number in our relationship."

" 5:23 was the time we met on the 8th of Feb an year ago."

" It was on the 23th of March that I asked you out to be my girlfriend. We've been together since 321 days, 2 hours and 23 minutes"

" Oh my gosh, you remembered ?" You smiled.

" That's not all, I promise you that I'll be the best version of myself "

" You make me complete yn and I wouldn't have it any other way "

" You're the most kindest and beautiful person in this whole world... " "I am so so lucky to have you "

Tears streamed down your face as you smiled at him. He's very sincere this time, you thought. Suddenly he went down on one knee

" Will you, my sunshine, make your smiley boy happy again for forever and ever "

You put your hands on your mouth and gasped

" Oh My God are you proposing ?"

" No its a promise ring actually "

" It's a promise from me to you that I'll be the man, you wished to be with "

" I'll go to therapy, I'll work on myself and be the best version of the person, you fell in love with "

" Innie, what if we fight again ?" You asked, cursing yourself inside for overthinking again.

" I promise to you that I will never raise your voice at you "

" I'll be there for you as much as I can "

" Even if I have to fight with my managers, I will"

" I'll leave the company if it comes to that "

You squeezed his hand.

" Innie, I trust you, just promise that you'll share everything with me, however good and bad, instead of suffering by yourself "

" I promise "

" Then I'll gladly accept this ring, my smiley boy " He eagerly put the ring through your left ring finger, it was a gorgeous diamond princess solitaire ring. It was simple yet so beautiful. You widely smiled as you looked at it, glistening in your finger.

Grabbing him by his neck you kissed him. He melted as your lips touched his, he deepened the kiss as if you two were longing for this. Both of you giggled as you pulled away slowly, breathless.

" Woo-hoo " There was a pop and clap sound as you looked at the living room. All the skz boys were standing there smiling as you two pulled away.

You were a little embarrassed thinking of how long were they watching you two.

" Congratulations you guys, so happy for you " Chan beamed.

" I knew it, he can do it! " Minho exclaimed

" Did she like the painting and the song lyrics ? I wrote them!" Hyunjin spoke from behind.

" I bet she did!" Han high fived Hyunjin As he spoke.

" Seungmin, are you crying ?" Felix asked him, shocked " Shut up, I am just happy for these two " Seungmin replied. " Yes, very happy " Changbin wiped a tear in his eyes ith his thumb.

Both of you smiled as you looked at the scene. He held your hand as both of you walked to the boys, who were smiling and cheering for you.

A new beginning has started for you. With his hand in your hand, a new promise has begun to keep the relationship going.

No matter what comes, you two are in it together, forever and ever!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒𓂃🦋

A/N: This is the end! Thank you for sticking by for so long. I had so much fun making this, I hope you like it too ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

Make Sure to like, reblog and comment!

Taglist: @atinyniki @minholing @cheesemonky @bunnystruggles @michelle4eve @writingforstraykids @skzoologist

@iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @livelovelaughmiko

@teenageshepherdpeachfan @gho-ster @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

@seungseung-minmin @ezlynkisses

@elmoslungcancer @cuddlylonelyperson

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

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brayneworms · 9 months

Text

fearful, wonderful | scaramouche

general tags. kabukimono!scaramouche, trans!scaramouche, yokai!reader, gender-neutral reader, slowburn, yokai lore/imagery, very slowburn, food consumption/eating, tatarasuna.

content warnings. gender dysphoria, allusions to war and death.

word count. 4.9k

notes. this is an 18+ blog. minors and ageless accounts do not interact, you will be blocked.

synopsis. agreeing to house the puppet has taken its toll. you take him to niwa, and he comes to several realisations about himself.

masterlist | prev | next | ao3

II. MOUTH OPEN, SILENT AND BLUE.

There are spirits in your eyes, and a ghost in your home.

‘Ghost’ is the most apt thing you can conjure to describe the puppet that has taken up residence there. He wanders from one room to the next with childlike curiosity, seeming to take interest in the most mundane of things. An object that remains of seemingly perpetual fascination to him, much to your dismay, is your collection of seto teaware.

Most times, when the house goes quiet for too long, you’ll wander out into the parlour and find him sitting cross-legged in front of your dresser. He doesn’t touch—not since that first night, when you snapped at him and snatched the cup from his hand. He just looks, those glimmering ice-blue eyes tracing every pattern and crack. You think it’s the gold paint sealing it all together that fascinates him. Possibly he’s unused to the concept of someone wanting to repair something broken.

Possibly he’s unused to the concept someone could love something enough for that.

After that first night, you’d woken up with the dawn, sat up—only to find the puppet already awake. He was sitting straight up, sort of just… staring at you. It had unsettled you so badly that you’d flinched backwards, slamming your head into the wall.

“What are you doing?” you spluttered, rubbing at the inflamed crown of your head. You were sure a bruise was flowering as you spoke; by breakfast, the skin beneath your hand would probably feel like a rotten vegetable.

The puppet blinked. “I was waiting for you to move.”

“I was asleep.”

He seemed to consider this. “I don’t think I need to do that, then. Is it normal to be asleep for so long?”

You glared at him, despite the needling knowledge at the back of your head that it wasn’t really his fault. Considering how tired you are, you doubted you’d slept for more than five hours. “It’s usually longer,” you snapped, and then your grouchiness began to ebb, and you sighed. “So you don’t sleep. You don’t seem to breathe, or feel cold. Do you need to eat?”

The puppet shook his head. “I watched other things eat in the Pavilion. I supposed they must have been doing it… for some reason, but I knew I’d never experienced it.”

“Most things need to eat to live.”

The puppet’s expression had become shuttered, then. “What does that make me?”

You didn’t reply. You got up and made breakfast instead. Eggs into a pan and rolled with vegetables and slivers of cured meat. It spat and sizzled over the fire. The puppet crept out of your bedroom to watch like a sulking child, like a dog whose tail you’d just stepped on by accident. He watches you eat like he’d watched you sleep—like you were a curiosity, something fascinating.

The rain had stopped in the night, the last rolls of water making their way slowly out of the valleys. When you crack the window open the stifling petrichor slides over your nose, warm and thick and damp. The earth studded with lavenders beside your house is looking very dark and swollen, but it’s not totally aflood as you’d feared. You have a tendency for underestimating things more resilient than yourself.

The puppet stares at your food as you eat. You hold out a mouthful on two chopsticks. “Do you want to try?”

He bites the inside of his cheek. “O-okay.” His lips close over the morsel. You watch his jaw move unnaturally, too stiffly for standard chewing. It’s like he has to remind himself how his teeth work. His pale throat flexes when he swallows.

“It tastes good,” he says, surprised.

“Well. Thank you.” You stir your food around your plate, embarrassed. “I make it every morning.”

“Some hilichurls had a campfire once in the Pavilion,” the puppet says thoughtfully. “They were roasting some fruit. After I defeated them I tried a little of it, but I hated the taste. My body rejected it. I thought that meant I couldn’t eat human food.”

“What sort of fruit was it?”

“Um… small. Purple.”

“Sounds like a lavender melon. Like on the tree outside. I don’t like them either, they’re very sweet. It might be you just don’t like sweet things.”

“You don’t like sweet things either?” The puppet presses closer to you, a new eagerness gleaming to life in his eyes. You fight the urge to edge backwards. “That makes us similar, doesn’t it?”

You glower at your plate. “Only superficially. Not in any way that matters.” And you’re too cruel, maybe, to feel guilty as you watch the hope falter from the puppet’s face, as you watch his shoulders droop and he shrinks back under his curtain of hair. Still, your appetite abruptly vanishes. You push your plate towards him and stand up. “Finish that off, if you want it, then get dressed. I left some clothes out for you on your bed.”

The puppet glances from the plate to you, his rosebud mouth a little ‘O’ of surprise. “Why do I need to get dressed?”

“We’re going to see Niwa. He’s a friend of Katsuragi’s,” you say crisply. “He’ll be able to teach you to read and write.”

“Niwa.” He repeats the name slowly, with an expression of concentration. “Niwa. Katsuragi. Your name is Y/n.”

You nod, feeling stuck all of a sudden. The puppet’s lips work themselves into a frown.

“Why can’t I have a name?”

Your mouth works soundlessly for a few moments before you press your lips together hard and appraise him. He looks up at you with that frustrating, wide-eyed earnest, the same look that communicates that there is no way he is trying to push your buttons on purpose.

“It’s not that you can’t. Most people are given them when they’re born.” Your eyes linger on the sleeves of his jinbei, the swathes of bone-white cotton that hide the strange markings on his joints, the ones you hadn’t wanted to look too closely at. The mark of something inhuman, like a branding. Puppets were made, not born—and you supposed their facilities for being named depended much more on the sort of person who had created them. You think of that slim golden feather, tucked into his belt. You’d stashed it away in one of your cupboards, but you knew what it was. The mark of nobility—and here in Inazuma, that could only mean one person. The Shogun. He looked like a younger, shorter, more androgynous version of her, from the flawless pale skin to the big moonstone eyes and curtain of purple-black hair.

You change tactics as his expression starts to tremble. Do puppets cry?, you wonder, then abruptly realise you don’t want to find out. “You can always give yourself a name.”

He cocks his head. “What sort of name?”

“Anything you like.”

A shy dart of his eyes. “I like your name.”

Your skin prickles. “Well, you can’t have that one. Pick something else. Or… just stick around this village for long enough. People will undoubtedly give you one, whether you ask for it or not.”

“Everyone has a name,” the puppet says sulkily. You’re beginning to pick up on that—that childish, bitter streak that seems to be slashed right through him. “Every human. My mother didn’t even give me one before casting me out. I didn’t realise things had names, not really, until a group of adventurers wandered into the Pavilion one day. I heard them talking, laughing with each other.”

“Your mother…” You were echoing his sentiment before you could even help it. Wasn’t it strange, to think of your creator as your parent? But then, how would you know? You supposed he was entitled to think of her in any way he chose. The gold feather burned guiltily from behind the wood of your cupboard.

You’re jerked sharply back to reality when you realise the puppet has sidled closer. He has an intense sort of look on his face. “Can’t you give me a name?”

I’m not the one to raise him, Katsuragi.

You wouldn’t be a parent. You’d be a friend.

“No.” You lean away. “It’s not my responsibility. Get dressed, okay?”

The puppet slinks off to the bedroom, dejected. There is a pang of pain in your stomach that you quickly ignore, like the hard swallowing of bitter medicine.

Your whole life you have been swallowing bitter medicine. You’re hoping it will take effect, someday soon.

Niwa always smells of the furnace.

Hot metal and oil and smoke. It clings to him even after a bath, like if you sliced him open at the skin, showers of sparks and the smell of burning steel would leak out of him. It’s not a smell you find particularly pleasant—you find that it reminds you of the smell of your armour, minus the blood that tended to cloak it—but that’s not to say you find Niwa unpleasant.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Niwa is soft-spoken and affable, coasting through the village like a warm spring breeze. You find him and his small family tolerable—they’re a quiet but kind presence, keeping mostly to themselves until someone shows up to bother them for assistance. It’s comprised of Niwa’s older sister, Honoka, her two children, and Niwa’s grandfather, a frail and elderly man who rarely steps outside their house to see the sunlight. You think briefly that they will be good company for the puppet, then wonder why you care.

He trails behind you on the walk, kicking up wet earth from the wobbly paths; his eyes rove helplessly over the whole village with awe, taking in every shack and cabin, the modest redwood temple and shrines, the trees spilling sakura petals over the sidewalks. He pauses at a field of golden corn, running his fingers down the thick stalks, the slumping ears of the vegetables nestled in their leafy cocoons. In winter the cut stalks freeze over near the path—they can be just as deadly as a blade if you fall into them. Most parents don’t let their children take this path for that very reason—the lake is structurally unsound and prone to flooding, and this path often soaks itself. On winter nights it ices over; one slip and those cut stalks will scrape up your skin to ribbons.

You don’t relay any of this to the puppet. For one, it’s not winter. For another, he has no skin.

Niwa’s family lives someway up the hill. Their house is modest, as the ones in Tatarasuna go, but it has to be for five people living there—a traditional noka house with enough rooms for all of them. The only thing distinguishing it from the others nestling in the crook of the mountain below is the miniature blacksmith forge attached to the left side. Scraps of jewel steel pile up against the anvil, ready to be softened and reformed into blades. Bags of soft-pine charcoal and ironsand slump against the clay tatara, ready for that long process of turning iron to metal; the coal fire sputters on endlessly, spurting out plumes of thin black smoke. The puppet watches, fascinated.

“What is that?” he breathes, tucking himself closer to you.

“It’s a forge. Niwa is a bladesmith.” You catch his look of confusion. “He makes steel into swords and weaponry.”

A soft gasp rings out over the hillside. “Tsukumo! Tsukumogami!”

Your head snaps up; two children gape down at you, wide-eyed and flush-cheeked. Honoka’s kids, a boy and a girl, both with flat shiny black hair adorned with those characteristic scarlet streaks. The boy, the taller of the two, races down the path to you.

“When you didn’t come for ages Rie thought I made you up!” he gabbed, panting hard from exertion. “But you’re real! See?” He yells the last part up spitefully to his sister—Rie—who looks away and picks at her shirt moodily. The blossom blush on her cheeks darkens steadily.

Honoka hurries around the side of the house, lugging a basket of white linens. It’s half-full; she must have been in the middle of hanging out her laundry when she heard the exclamations. Honoka is older than Niwa, pushing thirty you think, with the exact same messy auburn hair as her brother. She peers down at you, surprised.

“Y/n,” she says tremulously, using your real name rather than the moniker her son addressed you with. “Shinsuke, come back up here, now!”

The little boy sighs, full of the sort of petulance only young human children can carry, and makes his way back up the hill. Sweat shines on the back of his neck as he goes. You begin to follow him up, gesturing for the puppet to keep up with you. It’s only as you get to the top, where the real path to the Hisehide house begins that you realise he’s taken hold of the fabric of your shirt. It’s so baggy you barely notice, but it still makes you stiffen.

Honoka regards you with a cautious mistrust that you cannot begrudge her for. Her son, Shinsuke, said it best—you are tsukumogami. More fool her to trust you completely.

“Are you here to see Niwa?” she asks, swapping arms for her laundry basket. “Katsuragi said we should—” She cuts herself off, scratching at her arm. “He said we should expect a visitor. Is everything alright?”

Her greyish eyes slide unsubtly to the puppet behind you. You can feel him shrink in on himself, hunching up into his newly-washed karaginu.

“I need to talk to Niwa,” you answer carefully. “It’s, um… sort of hard to explain.”

Honoka nods. She is cautious, but not prejudiced. Fair, in a way you’ve learned a lot of humans are not. “I’ll go get him for you. He’s just in the garden.” She taps her children on the shoulder once. “Shinsuke, Rie, go play around the back.”

Rie and Shinsuke spare you one lingering curious look before shuffling off to their back garden. Honoka trails after them, and you feel the lack of invitation into their home like a sting. Again—this is not something you begrudge the Hisehides for.

Maybe they can smell the blood on you. Maybe they can sense the inhumanity, both of you and your companion.

“Why did they call you that?” the puppet wonders as if on cue. He’s still holding your shirt. “I thought your name was Y/n.”

“It is.” You take shallow breaths, wishing your lungs were bigger. “Tsukumogami… is what I am.”

The puppet’s eyes are huge and pale. “Y-you mean… you’re not human either?”

“No.” Your brow furrows, just slightly. “I’m yōkai. I thought Katsuragi would have told you.”

The puppet’s eyes are huge and luminous. He opens his mouth to answer, but—

“Y/n, as I live and breathe. What can I do for you?”

Niwa’s voice rings out cheerily. He strolls around the house, pulling off thick gardening gloves; soil streaks his billowing trousers. His tawny hair is pulled back into a ponytail, curling around his boyish face.

“Niwa,” you greet with about as much respect that any human can pull from you. “I’ve come at a bad time, I see.”

“Not at all,” Niwa says mildly. “Just tending to the trees. I like to help out when Honoka’s busy—it makes her think twice when she next threatens to kick me out.”

His voice prods for a laugh that neither you nor the puppet provides. He remains undeterred.

“Who’s your friend?”

“This is…” You fight back a wince as your conversation about his name returns to you. You can practically feel his reproachful eyes boring into your back. “Katsuragi found him wandering the beach last night. I’ve taken him in.”

“Is that so?” Niwa’s eyes gleam with interest. He cocks his head at the puppet. “Hi there. I’m Niwa Hisehide.”

“Hello,” the puppet returns quietly. “I don’t have a name.”

That embittered streak is back and stinging. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Niwa’s gingery lashes flicker in surprise.

“Really, now?” he says, still neutrally. “Well, don’t sweat it. You can give yourself any name you like. In the meantime, was there something I can do for you?”

“He needs to learn to read and write,” you say; your tone is still businesslike but you allow an edge of beseeching to soften the edges. You’re aware you’re asking for a large favour, even if it had been Katsuragi’s idea. “Katsuragi mentioned that you tutored his niece. He thought…”

“I see.” His hazel eyes linger on you for a minute, asking the question his mouth wouldn’t dare to—why can’t you do it, again? “Well… as it happens, I am teaching Honoka’s youngest at the moment. Her name is Rie.”

You incline your head. “I just met her.”

“You’d be very welcome to join,” Niwa says, speaking directly to the puppet. His body stiffens at the attention. It occurs to you that you and Katsuragi did a lot of talking around him rather than to his face. Niwa puts your meagre efforts to shame simply by existing and being decent.

You really shouldn’t be taking care of this puppet.

“Thank you,” is all you say. “I appreciate it.”

Niwa gives you a crooked smile. “Really, it’s nothing. Could I ask you for a little something in return?”

“…Sure.”

“Come by the house every once in a while. My nephew adores you. Honoka likes you too, you know.”

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“Not the same thing. Just… come by and get your friend after his lessons are done, that’s all.”

… It is fair. Niwa is fair, too, just like his sister. It must run in the Hisehide blood, same as those red streaks of hair. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Niwa says like you’re doing him some big favour. The part that makes you feel cold and sick is that maybe you really are. “You’re always welcome here, you know.”

On the walk back—quiet, as the watery sun makes a slow arc overhead—the puppet speaks again. “Niwa had short hair.”

Your eyes snap automatically to his dark waterfall of hair. “Well. Yes.”

“So did Katsuragi. And that little boy.”

“Shinsuke.”

“Shinsuke, right. Do all men have short hair?”

“No, not all of them.” This is the most neutral conversation you’ve had with the puppet so far. “In fact, many warriors keep their hair long. In some cultures, they add a braid to their hair for every battle won, and when they are defeated they cut it all off in shame.”

The puppet fiddles idly with a lock of hair that swings by his soft cheekbone. “I was created with this hair. As long as it is now. It never grew.”

“You were created in the image of your mother,” you say, though you’re only guessing this to be the case. “It’s not surprising you inherited some of her features.”

“My mother—the Shogun,” he says, voice growing quieter with each word. “She’s a woman.”

“Yes, she is.”

“If I am created in her image… am I a woman?”

Your lashes flutter in surprise, and you pause. You’re outside the cornfield, the one he stopped to admire earlier with such intensity, but now he doesn’t even glance at the crops. He looks straight at you with a burning need for his question to be answered.

Except you’re not totally sure how to answer it. You lick your lips. “Do you… feel as though you’re a woman?”

The puppet considers this. Finally he says, “I feel as though… I was intended to be one. But not… that I am.”

You consider this. “All humans are crafted in their parents’ image. That doesn’t mean they are a replica of them. I think the same can be assumed for you.” And your voice dips lower, gentler. “You should be whatever you feel. It doesn’t matter how you were made. All that matters is what’s inside.”

“You mean my heart?” the puppet scoffs. “I have been informed I don’t have one.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t feel,” you say. Your eyes trace over him—his clothes are that of a noblewoman, from the delicate veil to the karaginu, cut to accommodate a high chest and flaring hips. His face, sharp as carved marble, with his round lips and big sparkly eyes and long curling lashes. The fountain-arch of hair spilling from his scalp, running straight down his back to his waist. Intended to be one, indeed. But it doesn’t mean he is.

The puppet looks more confused than ever—there’s something small and helpless in his expression, something that makes you take pity.

“You don’t have to decide today,” you chide. “Think about it. Alright?”

The puppet nods, slowly. “Alright.” There’s a pause as you keep walking, and then the puppet says, quieter, “Thank you.”

Your jaw clenches briefly. “In the winter,” you find yourself saying, “be careful on this path. It ices over, and the cut corn stalks are dangerous. Okay?”

The puppet blinks. “Okay.”

“Good.” A sharp nod. “Let’s get back.”

The puppet comes to you a few days later. He’s had one session of tutoring with Niwa.

“It went well,” the swordsmith had confided in you when you went to retrieve the puppet in the afternoon. “He has a very natural grasp of it. It’s… not like teaching a child to learn from scratch. It’s as though the mechanisms of how it all works are already present in his head, it just has to be explained to him. Like someone who once knew how to read but forgot.”

“Another thing he inherited from his creator, no doubt,” you say. Your eyes linger on the Hisehide’s front door whilst you speak. There’s a wreath nailed into the wood there, a cluster of red camellias. They make your whole body prickle with electricity the longer you keep them in your line of sight.

In any case—two days after this, the puppet approaches you. You’re sitting outside, staring over the lavender field, thinking about your dead friends. You’d think after thousands of years you’d begin to forget it, but if that is the case you’re still waiting for it to happen. As it is, they’re all you think of. All you dream of.

“Y/n?” you hear, timidly. The puppet looks at you with caution as he lingers at the door threshold.

“What is it?”

“I’d… I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he says. “And… I’d like to cut my hair.”

You blink in surprise. “Oh. Well, alright.”

Shocking you further is when the puppet flushes. You hadn’t known he could do that—and he fidgets with his clothes in an awkward tic. “Could… would you… help me? Please?”

You think it’s the please that catches you, like the nick of an arrow, like a fishhook behind your heart. You stand up, feeling your pulse move slow and sickly through your body. “Take this chair,” you dredge up. “I’ll be right back.”

The way the puppet’s face lights up makes you feel sicker than ever. I’m no jellyfish, you think nonsensically. I have a brain, all right. Why can’t I use it?

Maybe because you also had another thing jellyfish didn’t. A heart.

For all the fucking good it does you.

The puppet scrambles past you to sit, tucking his knees up under his chin, as you brush past him into the house. You head for the spare room, open up one of the closets. Your shorter knives and blades are slung up in soft leather holsters, dull and lusterless from not being tended to as they used to. You select one, a tanto knife on the thinner, longer side, spanning just about the length of your forearm.

You haven’t held a real knife since…

Just to experiment, you give it a twirl. Muscle memory kicks in at the speed of light, and it flies through your fingers as though caught on a breeze. You stop it short, disgusted with yourself.

The puppet is craning his neck to look for you when you wander back outside. “I thought you may have changed your mind,” he says softly.

You hold up the blade. “Just had to sharpen the steel. I couldn’t find my whetstone. Are you sure about this?”

The puppet nods sagely. “I’m sure.”

“You said your hair doesn’t grow. If you cut it now, you’ll never be able to get it long again. Do you understand that?”

An expression of petulance steals over his face. “I told you I thought about it, didn’t I? I thought about all of this.” He looks down at his lap. “It’s what I want. Please.”

You weaken again, helplessly, foolishly, like butter left out in the sun. “Alright. Alright.”

You stand behind the chair and draw his hair back over the wooden back. You comb your fingers through it to search for tangles, and the puppet shudders. Your hands fly back as though burned.

Cool sweat lacquers your palms no matter how many times you wipe them against your shirt. Holding your knife is starting to make you feel feverish, and you almost let out a screamy laugh to the sky. This puppet trusts you with a blade near his neck. Doesn’t he realise…?

No, you suppose dully. He doesn’t.

You gather his hair into a band. It’s so soft, pin-straight and silky, running through your fingers like warm water. You can’t help but ask again. “You’re certain?”

“I am. I’m certain.” The puppet mirrors your language. You’ve noticed that, too. His appetite for learning seems to yawn, gape, and it frightens you a little. There is nothing good to be learned from you.

“How… how short?”

“Like Niwa’s. Or Shinsuke’s. Around here.” He gestures vaguely to his jaw and chin.

“Alright. Alright. Ready?”

His chin juts up defiantly. “Ready.”

Your hand tightens over the clump of air. The other, the one with the knife, worms its way beneath. It brushes over the nape of his neck, and the puppet shudders again. Your knife, so close to such a vital part of the body. If you cut him, would he bleed? Would he die?

Your blade slices upwards, towards your own head, cutting through the makeshift ponytail like butter.

A good twenty inches of hair droops to the ground like a fluttering of raven feathers, making a melancholy wreath at your feet. The puppet gasps, hands flying to the newly naked back of his neck, his shoulders, feeling the blunt edges of his new hair. He flings his head around to look at you, and for a moment you can’t decipher his expression. His eyes are wide as coins, lips parted, neat brows knitted up.

A sudden sick, cold terror seizes you. Is that sorrow? Regret? I’ve ruined it, you think blindly. I’ve ruined him—

“Thank you.”

It’s whispered fervently, with the sort of reverence one might reserve for worshipping a deity. The puppet looks up at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky. “It’s so much better. I—I love it. Thank you.”

Your expression cracks. The fear falls away as quickly as it came. “You—it’s nothing. I mean,” you catch yourself. It’s not nothing. “You’re… welcome.”

And tears glimmer in his eyes, making them brighter and more luminous than ever. For a moment it’s like looking into the moon. And then his smile slips. “You… you’re bleeding!”

You look down at your hands, surprised; the pain only springs up now that the puppet had called attention to it, but he’s right. The tips of two of your fingers, the ones holding the hair whilst the other cut, are stinging horribly. The uppermost part of your nails are hacked clean away, the skin at the precipice of the digit cut up.

The puppet takes your hand in both of his, cupping it like it’s a dying animal, a bird with a broken wing. Something gets stuck in your throat; the urge to yank away hits you like a ton of bricks, but in the wake of his cool skin against yours you feel rooted to the spot.

He strokes the pad of his thumb over what remains of the nail on your index fingers. It pools on his own skin, and he looks at it with the same fascination he would a new species of flower or a fruit he had never tried before. Considers it, almost.

“Are you alright?” he asks almost frantically. “You’re hurt! I��did I hurt you? I’m sorry!”

Finally, your throat unsticks. All of you does, and you take your hand back, folding your fingers into fists. “No. What? No, you didn’t do anything. I wasn’t paying attention.” The look of panic on his face unsettles you. “I’m fine.”

He springs up. “I’ll go get a bandage,” he blurts out, and turns on his heel towards the house. You turn to watch him go, and you feel your heart jump at what you see. The back of his neck, before cloaked with that thick fall of hair, stares straight back at you, startlingly pale and stamped. The Electro mark. You’d recognise it anywhere. That jagged three-legged spiral, another tattoo of his creator. A brand, or a goodbye kiss?

Your answer depends on what you are—yōkai or jellyfish. Brain or no brain.

As much as it embitters you, you’re leaning towards yourself. This puppet was made with love. The golden feather is enough proof of that. She wanted him to have a good life. But then why is he here with you, and not with her?

You rub at your eyes, suddenly exhausted.

You really should give the puppet a name.

#🫀.scribes #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer oneshot #kabukimono x reader #kabukimono oneshot #kabukimono x you #wanderer x you #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #scaramouche x gender neutral reader #scaramouche x gn reader

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un-unavoidableanxiousball · 5 months

Text

✨ Meowpheus ✨

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Masterlist

Prompt used: "What's So Funny?", Don't Make Me Laugh

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: The Sandman

Pairing: Dream of The Endless/Hob Gadling

Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of The Endless, Desire of The Endless, Lucienne, Matthew

Tags: fluff, possible out of character, terrible advice, attempt at humor,

Warnings: none

Word count: 1743

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Dream of The Endless doesn't regret anything, especially if said things were forethought or downright planned. As of right now he's curled up on Hob Gadling's lap who's preparing notes for the next lesson - now and again receiving head scratches he's delighting in. And in that moment Hob's hand comes down to scratch behind his ear. Dream automatically closes his eyes and leans in. Half a minute later he lifts his hand, while chuckling at Dream's protesting meow.

If he literally purrs everytime it happens; Dream will never breathe a single word of.

Where was he? Ah, yes. He'll never go along Desire's schemes ever again. Here he is, in his cat form, unable to change. With that wretched collar around his neck he's rendered incapable of manipulating his form in any way.

Lately Dream has been wondering if this really was such a good idea. While being Hob's cat has been shockingly exceptional experience and at the same time not at all surprising. Having said that Hob's kindness and care put Dream off kilter making him feel as if he takes advantage of Hob. Which in turn is only a small piece of the whole picture considering what made him ask for his sibling's help.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dream makes his way to the library to return a novel "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens to its rightful place. After putting it back, Dream reaches for another, this time "If I Ever Get Out of Here" by Eric Gansworth. He turns to leave only to be met with Lucienne who's expression was curious with a hint of concern. A spark of irritation lit up at being interrupted, Dream quickly puts it out. "Lucienne." He nods.

"Do you require more assistance, my Lord? Recently the number of your visits to the library have greatly increased;" his librarian inquires, "Furthermore seeing the Dreaming's overcast weather, it reveals that you, Lord Morpheus, are at an impasse, caught in indecision. Therefore have been searching for insight."

"I suppose I, indeed, have found myself at a crossroad." Dream muses, "Months have passed in the Waking since I last met with Hob...I find I wish to visit him sooner."

"What stops you my Lord?"

"Seeing how he wasn't cross with me leaving as I did in 1889. I'd like to finally tell him my name. He's long overdue." He glances away. "However I fear, if I share it, the novelty will wear off..." He hesitates, "He'll grow to realise how appalling, rotten and broken I am. He takes me to be a mystifying and outlandish being which granted him immortality. While I might be those to him, with time they would give way to the more jarring ignorant, cruel, malicious abnormality and torment."

"If I may, sir? I don't think Hob would change his opinions of you that greatly, nor do I think him capable of discarding your friendship that quickly and easily. He was the one to offer his friendship and as you pointed out - he has accepted you upon return." Dream loosens his grip on the book, not sure when he started to tighten his hold. "But if one opinion doesn't suffice my Lord, you can always turn to your family for council."

"Thank you Lucienne. I shall consider it." With a nod Dream walks out.

Lucienne sighs and walks back to her desk. Moments later Matthew lands on the lamp's neck and caws. "That went pretty well. Right? For a minute there I thought you'd get struck by lightning!"

"It might have just looked like it Matthew. In fact since his return, Lord Morpheus makes an effort to ask for help and listen to advice. The fact that it didn't take that long to get him to open up about this dilemma clearly proves that."

Matthew fidgets in place. "What dilemma? It's pretty obvious to me that both of them are head over heels in love. And I saw them meeting. From afar. The amount of sexual tension there, was just-" he shudders-"nope, too much for me, definitely. Needed gallons of holy water after THAT." Lucienne's smile widens at Matthew's antics.

"Let's hope a talk with Death will point him in right direction."

『••✎••』

Slightly dreading upcoming conversation, Dream braces himself. Although his sibling's insight might prove to be valuable. Definitely has the capacity for when not busy scheming. "Desire, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, I seek your council, may I come through?"

"Go right ahead, Sweet Dream~"

In moments Dream steps into The Threshold. "I've never known you to be able of asking for help. What is it that you desire that you came all the way from The Dreaming to little old me?" They tease with a smirk, flicking their tail lazily.

"It concerns Hob Gadling." He said narrowing his brows.

"Who is he? Should I know him? Sounds boring." Dream grits his teeth in irritation at Desire's fake obliviousness and disinterest. "You know very well who it is I speak of."

Desire dramatically pulls back and puts their hand to their chest. "You wound me Sweet Dream, I know not of who that 'Hob Gadling' is. I have other things to do than torment and plot against you; shocking I know."

"He's the immortal human I've been meeting every century. Seeing as I failed to meet him in 1989 because of you, I plan to visit him more frequently. As he still favours our friendship." Desire considers their brother's statement. " Is that his name? I always wondered. Did you say Friends?" they grin, "Your heart tells me otherwise. What I don't know is what part of this concerns me?"

"I want your scheming hands away from him." At that Desire rolls their eyes. "If that's all you needed, then rest assured I didn't come nowhere near your precious little crush. And he's feelings are his own; I didn't influence him in any way." Dream relaxes, but only a bit. He has yet to go straight to the point of this visit.

"Besides I really don't understand how that poor soul went ahead and fell in love with you. Clearly it wasn't your fashion sense that did it. I suppose I must congratulate you. He sees something in you worth loving." Desire observes Dream, takes in how Dream seems to hold something back, hesitant. "What is it that truly brings you here? Spit it out."

"I came..." If one would put a squished lemon next to Dream's face at this moment, Desire wouldn't see any difference."...for advice. In 1889 I refused Hob's friendship, which he forgave me for. Yet again I've done him a disservice by withholding my name. If I were to aspire for more, I'd have to share it. However I fear in doing so, Hob will realise the mistake he made."

Dream is insecure. Sure given his relationship history it's not even surprising. But to come to them? Hob must be special indeed. They should feel honoured; But ultimately Desire couldn't help themself and bursts out laughing. "Oh Brother! You're making me laugh - please stop." They say trying to catch their breath. "What is it that you find so hilarious, sibling? My misery?"

""What's so funny?" he asks! It's your stupidity." They cackle. "So you won't assist. I shall take my leave." "Don't be like that. But fine I'll help you test the waters. But we're doing it my way."

『••✎••』

"That's your great idea?" Dream scowls.

"Have anything better in mind?" they argue back, "In fact this includes every thing you mentioned. First - you get all the TLC your heart desires." Desire raises their index finger and then their middle one. "Second - you get to see his human everyday life. Third - you can test Hob's boundries, see his reactions when pushed and not get rejected in the process." They tap their raised ring finger in thought. Desire make a dramatic shocked face. "Ah yess!" Their pinky joins the other fingers. "Fourth, my favourite~, you get to appriciate his oh so ever, without a doubt in your mind, attractive assets." Desire purrs with a cheshire-like grin.

Dream ignores them. "I'll have to inform Lucienne of my extended absence from The Dreaming."

"See you in a moment, Sweet Dream.~"

『••✎••』

"Lucienne, I'm planning to spend some time in The Waking for foreseeable future. I wish not to be disturbed unless it requires immediate attention." Dream speaks, and in the process scares Matthew. His raven flails cawing at his sudden appearance.

"Am I to understand the conversation went smoothly, sir?" She questions unstartled.

"Perhaps. I expect to receive weekly updates from Matthew, when I'm not otherwise engaged."

"Hey Boss? Isn't staying in the Waking *caw* dangerous for you or something? *Caw* With you getting captured and all?" Matthew tilts his head.

"While your concern is touching, it is unnecessary. I'll be in capable hands." He reassures the raven and then turns to his librarian. "I'll be leaving in a few moments. I trust you to do well looking after The Dreaming."

Lucienne lowers her head. "I won't disappoint sir."

『••✎••』

"There you are Little Dream." Desire says after noticing a black cat sitting on the floor. The cat's shoots daggers their way. "What? If we're to meet Hob like this, I might as well look the part." Desire gestures at themself, then kneel down in front of Dream. "Besides that includes you too." They reveal a black collar, the bow's ribbon covered in a mockery of a night-sky pattern. Dream didn't get time to brace himself, his sibling taking advantage of his inattention, fastens the collar around his neck. "Now we're set." They pick him up. "Let's go to Hob, shall we?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A temporary lapse in judgement, Dream vows not to let it happen again. Desire was right about the advantages; however they avoided telling him about the negatives - like guilt. Instead of bravely approaching Hob, he planned. To make matters worse, he went to the one sibling that likes to mess with him. Hob deserves better.

"Come on, Dream. Let's eat then head on upstairs yeah?" Hob rubs his thumb along Dream's head. Dream gives an answering meow, then jumps off Hob's lap to stretch himself.

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@fandom-free-bingo I got carried away. TwT I tried to write crack treated seriously..but I got confused along the way. And now idk if I managed that or not. :/

Tell me if rating is incorrect or other tags for that matter.

#FandomFreeBingo #FrostyEditionBingo #bingo #fanfic #writing prompts #hob gadling #dreamling fanfic #dreamling #dream of the endless #the sandman #meowpheus #desire of the endless

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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 7 months

Text

It's a highway to hell but, oh the things we do for love (4)

This fic is a Greek mythology au. This fic includes: betrayal, attempted human sacrifice, violence, choking, character death, cursing, forced marriage, mentions of nightmares, references to Greek mythology, enemies to lovers, and manipulation.

Tagging: @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @greep215

Chapter 4

“Now that you know my name, will you order Hecate to escort me to Hades?”

“No.” You refused, “A suit of armour will guide you to the king. Hecate will stay here with me.”

Truthfully, you had no idea how you would even summon a suit of armour since Hades had done it last time and he hadn’t exactly provided instructions on how to imitate the process. To your complete and utter astonishment, you heard heavy metal footsteps coming towards you.

Within a matter of seconds, a suit of armour stood in the entrance way. From its posture, it was clear that it was waiting for orders from you. The words leapt unbidden from your mouth, “Escort Minthe directly to Hades. If he is unavailable for whatever reason, remain with her at the doors of the throne room.”

The suit of armour raised a hand to pound at its breast plate and it bobbed its head once before facing Minthe with a stony countenance. She huffed when she realised that you were serious about not letting Abigail go with her and that the suit of armour would escort her instead.

She twirled around and taking that as its cue to leave, the suit of armour made its way down the hall. Feeling petty, you called out to her, “I’d suggest that you do your best to keep up with the suit of armour. It will not stop to wait for you.”

Only after you had finished speaking did you realise that you had repeated Hades’ words from your first night in the Underworld. Minthe left the prophecy room with quick strides.

“If she maintains her current pace, she should catch up to the suit of armour very soon. She can’t be too far behind it because I can still hear its footsteps.”

Abigail waited a long time to ensure that Minthe had left. Once she was absolutely certain that Minthe wouldn’t double back, she let go of your hand which was starting to become numb from her tight grip. Blood rushed back into the limb yet you chose to ignore that and focus on the goddess whose mood had undergone a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn from her mood earlier this morning.

“Why did she have to come back?” The goddess wailed. “No one likes her! She doesn’t belong here!”

You gathered the distraught immortal into your embrace and because of the fact that you were preoccupied with the goddess in your arms and trying to figure out the right words to say to her, you didn’t notice the shadows lengthening until two men popped out of them and appeared next to you. You let out a yelp and Abigail chuckled wetly.

“Minthe’s back,” the taller of the two bemoaned.

“It’s a little late to tell us now. She was just in the room with us.” Abigail retorted with a frown as she wriggled out of your arms to face the newest arrivals.

The shorter of the two men was the first to spot you, “Hi. We haven’t been introduced yet. I’m Charon but you can call me Dave and this,” he jerked his thumb at the taller male, “is….”

“You can call me Thanatos.” His voice was clipped as he interrupted Dave and studied you.

“I’m (Name).” You introduced yourself.

“We know,” Thanatos replied. “Charon filled me in on the two witches he ferried over.”

You swallowed at the mention of Vi and her partner, “Oh.”

“Indeed,” Thanatos replied curtly, lifting an eyebrow.

“How are we going to get her out of here?” Abigail demanded.

“We could make her cookies with salt instead of sugar?” Dave suggested.

Thanatos started shaking his head even before Dave was midway through his sentence, “No way. I’m not spending any time or effort on that woman if I don’t have to.”

“Lemon juice in her water with salt and vinegar?” Abigail offered, “It’s easy and doesn’t require a lot of time or effort.”

“Now you’re talking,” Thanatos praised, grinning approvingly at Abigail. “What about egg yolks in her drink?”

You wrinkled your nose and made a mental note to never make these immortals angry. You didn’t want them coming up with creative ideas like these ones about how to mess with your food. Unfortunately a thought occurred to you and you let out a sigh as the need to speak up rose within you.

“While those are good prank ideas, you’re all forgetting one thing.”

“What’s that?” Thanatos snapped. You tried not to focus on the mocking edge of his voice.

“She’s in Hades’ realm and as such the god is bound by the laws of hospitality. Any pranks or perceived insults, however harmless they may be,” you hastened to add when you caught sight of the identical frowns on Dave, Abigail, and Thanatos’ faces, “would be insulting him as well and I think we can all agree that none of us want to see Hades angry.”

Abigail, Dave, and Thanatos all had the same looks of disappointment on their faces. “What do we do then?” Thanatos demanded aggressively. “We can’t let her stay here!”

“Whatever Minthe did last time must’ve been really bad. I wish I knew what it was so I could make sure not to do anything remotely close to it.”

“Avoid her at all costs.” You advised. “Stick together and I will do my best to divert her attention. You shouldn’t,” your voice dropped and became softer, “interact with her since you clearly don’t want to, and based on the discussion you three just had, I think it’s fair to say that if you are forced to be around her, you would be willing to risk Hades’ wrath to get Minthe out of the Underworld permanently.”

“You’re not wrong,” Thanatos admitted. He seemed a little less sullen and you hoped that meant he was warming up to you.

#mywriting #my fics #halloween 2023 #it's a highway to hell but oh the things we do for love #greek mythology au #the sorcerer's apprentice au #maxim horvath #hades!maxim horvath #maxim horvath x reader #maxim horvath/reader #hecate!abagail williams #thanatos!drake stone #charon!dave stutler

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j-nipper-95 · 7 months

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20 Questions for fic writers

Thanks for the tags for this @theearlgreymage and @wellbelesbian. I'm so slow at responding to these sorts of posts. Also, this one is going to be a little tricky, as I only have the one fic up on AO3, so I will be throwing in a few stats from my original novel, 'A Survivor's Revenge', as well.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently just the one, 'The Trails We Blaze'. But there is also ASR, my long term original novel, that I'm going to be focussing on again in November.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

TTWB currently has a published word count of 20,059 words, with a total of 68,238. (the will only continue to grow - there's still so much of the original plot of El Dorado to adapt for this AU!) ASR on the other hand is already a monster. Before I split the original draft in two to make the first two books, the draft came in at around 130k, incomplete. Currently, the first book is sitting at 78,278 words.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Carry On. It's also the only fandom I read fanfic for.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'm still shocked by how well Trails is doing after only a month or so of posting, so thank you thank you THANK YOU for showing this fic so much love. 1,247 kudos is more than I thought the fic would ever get in its entirety, and we're barely scratching the surface of this chaotic journey.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I've loved replying to comments on this fic. It's so nice to know that the fic is resonating with people, and what everyone enjoys about the chapters. I especially love when people pick up on lines from canon, and even mention things I didn't consciously notice when I was writing that reference canon. And just getting to nerd out about the research that's gone into this fic. Anyone who knows me IRL knows how much of a classics nerd I am (unsurprising given I have two degrees), and it's been fun flexing those muscles again. It's also been wonderful seeing what resonates with people over here on tumblr when I share snippets of ASR for WIPsDays. Everyone in the CO fandom has been so supportive of me sharing those snippets, and I can't wait for the day when I get to share Lauren and her story properly with the world.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Trails is unlikely to be especially angsty (I haven't actually planned the ending, but if we're going by the ending of El Dorado, there's likely to be a happy ending. But I don't know, it's a mystery to me at this point!) ASR on the other hand ... Book 1 and book 2 have especially angsty endings. Where the series as a whole is concerned, let's just say I made myself cry when I wrote a line for a scene from the final book. It'll be multiple books of build up for a gut wrenching finale. Only one character is guaranteed to survive from the entire cast. You have been warned.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

None so far, but it's likely to be Trails. Only time will tell!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far, no. Everyone has been so so lovely with feedback about ASR and Trails!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I am an aro/ace bean who's not really experienced much, so whenever I try to write smut I struggle due to lack of practical experience (that's such a clinical way to put it, but brain no work right now, so that's the best way I can think to phrase it). But if I ever do write anything considered smutty, I try to focus on the emotions and sensations rather than the act itself. I love to read fic where the emotional intimacy is front and centre, but won't turn my nose up at reading some really raunchy debauched sex. As someone who's questioned her sexuality multiple times since first coming out I've lived under multiple labels before finding the one that suited me. Grey ace, ace bi-romantic, demisexual bi-romantic, I've thought all of them fit me at one time or another. It wasn't until last year that I realised dating wasn't working for me, it never would work for me, and that was ok. Aro/Ace isn't a zero sex/zero emotions identity, it's a spectrum in itself, and I've finally found something that suits me. Back on the topic of smut I write, I haven't written anything smutty for Trails yet beyond some heated kisses and heavy breathing. Maybe some rolling of hips. But I will be taking that M rating to its limit, don't you worry! As for ASR, again, nothing majorly smutty has been written, at least not what I would consider majorly smutty. Just a lot of emotional pining, and a bit of foreplay that starts to lead somewhere, and then DRAMA.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Back when I was first getting into creative writing (we're talking pre-teen/very early teens Jess, before ASR was even a vague concept), I wrote fanfic without even realising that's what I was doing. It was just a self insert series of stories that crossed over with multiple franchises, as well as straight up stealing plot points and tropes from other franchises. Will I tell you what they were? Absolutely not! And they will never see the light of day, because they are absolutely God-awful!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, and I hope that never happens.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd love it if someone ever wanted to. For ASR especially it would be incredible to see it translated and reach more people around the world. Seeing published authors announcing translation deals is something I aspire to!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not technically, but I suppose you could call Trails and Art-Collab fic, because Ashton's art is fucking fantastic!! Whenever I get to posting day and I wake up to see an art DM from her I get so excited! The style she's gone with for this fic was something we talked about for a while and she's just excellent at capturing the images and emotions I hope my writing is portraying. Ashton is a gem, and I am beyond lucky and don't know what I did to deserve her as a friend!!!

14. What's your favourite all time ship?

SnowBaz have been an obsession since mid-2021, and they show no signs of relinquishing the top spot in my heart when it comes to fandom ships. But it'd be remiss of me not to mention my OC's here. Lauren and Mike are my chaotic, dramatic, hopelessly and cluelessly in love MC's for ASR. You know how Baz pines in CO ... yeah, we're talking similar levels, if not slightly above that for Lauren and Mike. One of my favourite messages from my alpha reader was 'How in the hell did these idiots ever think their feelings were platonic?', and honestly, I don't even know. AND I WROTE THEM!

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'm working on an epic high fantasy saga with a friend that we describe as 'Japanese mythology meets J R R Tolkein'. It's so fun writing with someone else, as we both have different strengths. Nori is very much at home with the darker elements, the world building, and character development, whilst I love writing the character relationships, romances, and political manoeuvrings. It's just difficult when you're in different parts of the country, and both have other WIPs you're working on. Maybe one day this saga will see the light of day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I used to think this was a weakness, but since working on ASR edits I think I've become better attriting action sequences. At least, the comments on Trails have led me to believe this. I hope. Since writing that opening chase scene through Southwark it's really bolstered my confidence. But I think my main strength is dialogue full of banter and flirting. Give me a chance to have two characters in a room just bouncing off each other. No need for dialogue tags, just back and forth dialogue. Flirty dialogue is some of my favourite to write, and both SnowBaz and Lauren and Mike allow me to do this in spades! I also think writing pining is a strength, but that is a double edged sword that can cut the wielder if not used sparingly. Pining is great, when not overdone, and I'm praying I've not overdone it with Trails.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action and intimate sequences are still aspects of writing I struggle with, and I'll tell you why. Pacing. Pacing is my nemesis. I just want to get from point A to point B and move on to the next scene. I know first drafts don't have to be perfect, but yeah ... pacing in certain scenes within first drafts is my biggest struggle.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I had to work out how I was going to tackle this for Trails with the most recent chapters I've been writing. HOW DO YOU WRITE A LANGUAGE THAT DOESN'T EVEN EXIST, AND IN YOUR FIC HAS BEEN DEAD FOR MILLENNIA? Atlantean has been a pain to try and work out, and I'm still figuring out a way to write the language itself in dialogue. I really want to try and get some actual Ancient Greek in here as well at some point, so if anyone wants to help translate some riddles and prophecies for me, hit me up! I'm a bad Classicist and never learnt any ancient languages!

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Published: Carry On The secret ones I'll never show anyone: that knowledge goes with me to my grave.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Trails is my only published fanfic, therefore it is my favourite. But also I love the source material (both 'Carry On' and 'The Road to El Dorado) so much. But my favourite fiction I've written, out of all the original ideas and bad fanfic, has to be 'A Survivor's Revenge'. These characters and their story have been on my mind for the last fourteen years in some form or another, they are my babies, and I don't know what my life would look like without them in it. Lauren is my favourite morally grey chaos gremlin, and I'm so glad other people like reading about her whenever I share snippets.

Ok, so tagging. I have no idea who has and hasn't done this already, so I'm sorry in advance if you don't want to do this/already have done. Just think of it as me saying hi and how much I love the work you all do!

@aristocratic-otter @bazzybelle @bookish-bogwitch @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @cosmicalart @fatalfangirl @larkral @palimpsessed @phoxphyre

#20 questions #baby fanfic writer #snowbaz #cotta 2023 #the trails we blaze #original fiction #science fiction #espionage #a survivor's revenge

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