#at least firefly is guaranteed...

[cosmic-acee]

If i pull for ONE MORE STONEHEART AND LOSE MY 50/50 IM GONNA LOSE IT ALL. I LOST MY AVENTURINE 50/50 AND NOW I LOST TOPAZ PLEASE WHYYYYY😭😭😭😭😭

[fagatakonin]

I think i will be getting sparkles lc idgaf . . . . Lets gamble . . ..

[gachaparadise]

Lost my 50/50 at 90. This is the 6th one in a row. I'm allowed to be mad at this point right.

[alchemiclee]

i'm so excited for firefly!!!!!! it's been a while since i've been this excited for a character...I was trying for aventurine light cone and am around 50 pity in.....but what if I stop now and go for firefly's instead 🤭

[franeridan]

what do you MEAN it's boothill already hoyo am i a joke to you

[misssilversunny]

Ok wait i just had a funny idea

Why stop at just a yandere batfamily? Why not all of Gotham?

Like, imagine Bane kidnapping you, calling you his "firefly" or whatever because you're a fleeting light in the darkness or something, and you're more guarded than the actual thing he stole.

And despite that, Poison Ivy manages to nab you, her "little rose", while Bane is busy dealing with Batman. She takes you back to her apartment, where you greet the plants you recognize and introduce yourself to the new ones (There aren't many, you were here 3 months ago).

At some point you take a breath of fresh air through an open window, and Scarecrow grabs you, taking you to his lair, into a room which is also pumped with a special strain of fear gas that makes you cling to him for safety.

And then, shock of all shocks, the one and only, motherfucking Joker snatches you from the lair, leaving behind a dummy for Scarecrow to find. Unlike the others, Joker's obsession is in the fact that everyone else is obsessed with you. He finds it hysterical how one person can have all of Gotham in a spin!

Eventually, the Batfam grabs Reader from the Joker, since he's not actually obsessed so he has them the least guarded, maybe a short conversation with Batman, but even Joker knows he's in water too hot to joke about severe injuries, especially since he doesn't know if Red Hood is nearby.

Batman might not kill, but he cannot guarantee that anyone else wouldn't if he killed their favorite person, and he does not have the influence where he could get away with that.

You get returned to your nice cage room in the manor, where the Batfamily scolds you yet again for another failed escape attempt trip outside getting you shipped around Gotham for weeks!

At this point, you're pretty sure you not only can't leave, but also any attempts at a normal life are pointless. You mostly do this because humans are animals and animals need enrichment, and no, the cycle of games/quality time they're giving you are not a suitable replacement for touching grass and seeing new faces.

Even the brief moments of time between kidnappings, the short moments of normalcy that the other villains, the other heroes and vigilantes give you, are a welcome change of pace.

Bonus points if it's literally everyone in neighboring cities/Justice League, so Superman finds you and you're just like "Well shit" because now you're taken to his house, maybe his parents' farm, and you're kept there until someone catches on that Clark has you.

Also if you tack this onto Spoiled!Reader, this becomes infinitely funnier because In my mind I'm treating that AU as 90% a crack/lighthearted fic, and another thing is I think of them as being ~12 sometimes, so it's the entirety of Gotham fighting over a middle schooler.

If it's an adult Reader, it's more of a "This is fine" as they are carted from villain to villain to vigilante to hero because their family literally has a fan club for them, so their perception of what is "normal" levels of interest is severely skewed.

If you want to go for the Neglected!Reader, then it would be really interesting for them to try and figure out where is a good level of "interested in your hobbies", and doubts whether they're so uncomfortable because they're actually too invested in their day to day life, or if it's because they were neglected for so long that any interest feels overwhelming.

Btw all asks about Spoiled!Reader and this Reader are welcome!

[pink-amethyst-tarot]

What your angles/guides are dying to tell you!

Take a deep breath and focus on which pile you think would be best for you

P I L E 1 P I L E 2 P I L E 3

Pile 1

Seven of Swords, Three of Swords (Reversed), Two of Swords, Ten of Cups, Four of Wands, Page of Cups, Two of Cups, The Lovers

After facing some deceit and hardships, you are healing and now is the time for you to open yourself up again because LOVE IS ON THE WAY!!!! This love coming in is what you have hoped for. This person is *your person* - your soulmate. I feel this wave of peace washing over me as I type this out and it is such a beautiful feeling. I can also see a wedding happening or just celebrations in general for you. Congratulations! I feel like the way this person is going to come in, it's gonna be a nice surprise. There is something that is going to just be a pleasant surprise. Like "OH! There you are! I didn't think I would see you here!"

Pile 2

Three of Swords, King of Swords, Two of Wands, 5 of Wands, Three of Cups, The Fool, Knight of Cups, King of Cups

Before I could really get started on any pile, the first thing I heard was, "Pile two, I'm proud of you!" (Hey, that rhymes!) I'm actually doing Pile Two first!

OMG PILE 2! You dealt with some kind of heartbreaking situation and I deeply think that it's related to romantic love but please take it how it resonates. But did you let it stop you? NO! You wiped your tears and decided to take on the world. It wasn't easy but you got through it and you leaned on your support system and you have been have a ball! I'm seeing fruitfulness and abundance in all areas of your life and because you have healed so much you are ready for a new beginning and a new chance at love! This person will be open with you and understanding. You've earned this.

Pile 3

Queen of Wands, Three of Pentacles, The Magician, Five of Swords, Five of Cups

Pile 3, to put it bluntly, you can be very pig-headed. You are stubborn and everyone else is wrong and you are right. Despite that, though, you are taking the time to unlearn those parts of you, and you are noticing new truths about yourself. I'm seeing the classic mean girl trope like Regina George but like using your bitchiness for good! GOOD FOR YOU, MAMA! Your guides are proud of you for not being so reactionary anymore. It seems you are finding other ways to solve conflict that are the least harmful for everyone one involved. I feel like you're in the beginning stages of this change and it doesn't feel good despite the good you are doing. It's all about finding balance and taking it one step at a time. Truth without kindness is just cruelty.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics

If you are looking for a personal reading, you can look on my shop on Etsy at PinkAmethystTarot, DM me or send me an e-mail at pinkamethysttarot@gmail.com

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C@SH@PP: $oddlycozycottage

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LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

[youronlydarlin]

Hi dolly!:) silly idea, have you ever tried writing for the hybrid cod guys? Ie: dragon hybrid price or werewolf hybrid soap, not a Request, I just think their neat. Also, probably good for Halloween as it's nearly October!

warning: none. Crack and fluff kinda, hybrid tf141

Ah of course, writing for hybrid cod is tradition at this point

Romantic bits aside. I like to think that each of them are annoying in their own special way. Intentional or not.

For starters, DragonHybrid! Price just reeks off burning wood. No matter how many times he's taken a shower, –no matter how long too!– he always ends up smelling the same. Like a fuckin' pizza oven.

Must be because he's half dragon– you'd think, so you can't really hold it against him. But out comes the second problem, which what seems to be his unhealthy relationship with cigars. What good does he have for temporary, man-made, chemical smoke, when he can produce his own. More natural, more efficient, and quicker too. But alas. It's just one of those cases where you try one thing once, then you find yourself doing it all the time, over and over.

You love the guy, really, you do. But getting any closer than 5 feet would set fire to your lungs, a guaranteed visit to the nurse's office. Doesn't help that kissing him feels like swallowing a dozen lit matches.

While Price's stench is still somewhat tolerable. WerewolfHybrid! Soap's constant howling at the moon might just make you consider transferring to another task force. Unfortunately for you, you also love his stupid face too much to do that. Sigh, the things you do for love. He just can't seem to get enough of that stupid fucking rock floating in the ink of night. Like he was some desperate firefly, who can't reach the light of a bulb. Well, at least he'd be a very handsome firefly.

But oh he cries for it, howls for it, and makes everyone suffer because of it. Heartless monter. A part of you thinks that he's just feeding into the cliché –that his kind is unable to resist that shiny ball of white floating about the dark sky– and the other wonders if he just Palov'ed himself into doing that by accident, and now can't quit.

Next up is your dear HarpyHybrid! Gaz, darling boy he is. He's not much of a nuisance save for the occasional stray feathers you'd find scattered all over the damned base. He has no control over it.

Besides, it's not too much of a problem on most days, but if you're unlucky enough to catch him on a bad mood you'll be left with more feathers than the ones you ordered to clean. And if you happen to hit a very specific nerve he might just ask a favor from his bird friends to shit on your car. Or your head. Whatever quells his thirst chaos at the moment. Is that a new suit? Well it's definitely not gonna smell like one anymore, baby!!

Very petty, and pretty would be the top description for your love.

Lastly we have WraithHybrid! Ghost. Who definitely lives up to his call sign. Never brings shame to it. He haunts the halls like he gets paid to do it, said he'd love for that to be the case. But no. The prick just can't be bothered to alert anyone of his presence.

You'd feel him before you see him. Unexpected taps to the shoulder has you jumping out of skin, and bumping to an invisible body never fails to bring a chill up your spine.

But when you do see him? On the dead of night? Out to get a snack? Ohh, lucky you, if you're a horror fanatic because the worn out material of his mask. That soulless skull. It's enough to give the boogeyman nightmares. Scare the monsters out from under your bed. You'd be glad that it was just skeletons in your closet, and not his dark, grim, saturnine, figure.

The last thing you needed from that was the introduction of the bane of your very tired existence, or as others would call it, "the swear jar". Price was just looking to take advantage of your very consistent "Oh fuck!'s towards Ghost.

a/n: I forgot how much I loved writing. I missed all of you so much.

yours, truly

–Dolly

[hitheeprithee]

It's been a month of unexpected emergency expenses (RIP my car windshield 😔), and I could really use some funds, so your friendly local dabbler is opening up commissions!

Writing Commissions:

Message me with a concept or a pairing and I'll write you something! Comfortable with Hermitcraft, Life Series, and some Empires! If you have another fandom in mind, message me and we can chat! I have a variety of other interests (including Critical Role, D20, Star Trek, Sherlock Holmes and Firefly to name only a few) and would be happy to work in any fandom I'm familiar with :)

Any amount guarantees at least a 100 word drabble!

$5 and up - 250 to 500 words

$10 and up - 500 to 750 words

$15 and up - 750 to 1000 words

$20 and up - 1000 to 1500 words

$30 and up - 1500 to 2000 words

More than that - DM me and we can talk!

Character Doodle Commissions:

Any characters! OC's welcome with references :)

Any amount guarantees a doodle of a character of your choice!

$10 and up - 2 characters

$15 and up - 3 characters

$20 and up - name me an idea and I'll do my best!

Tattoo Commissions:

Message me with a specific idea or some concepts that are meaningful to you and I'll work with you on a design! Examples of my work here and here (tumblr isn't letting me add the images, so please feel free to DM for further examples!)

$30 - Simple tattoo

$40 - Detailed tattoo

$50 - Complex tattoo

Please reach out with an ask or a DM if you have any questions, any signal boosting would be deeply appreciated!

[cheeseceli]

Don't be scared

Pairing: taehyung × gn!reader

Genre: drabble, comfort

Prompt: healing inner child

Warnings: mentions of anxiety

A/n: future will be okay, that much I guarantee :) | daily click

When you grow up, you also grow out of some fears.

You're not scared of clowns anymore. You also don't cry whenever you hear thunder now. And even though the darkness can be intimidating, it's not as bad as it once was.

However, some fears seem to only come once you reach a certain age. Fear of rejection. Of abandonment. Of the future. And that is way more scary than the dark, you think to yourself.

You think it's because you have to deal with it every single day. I mean, you could be scared of being in the darkness by yourself, but soon enough a candle would be lit up. The light would return. And if anything, you were at least never alone. But the future is so uncertain. Maybe that's what scares you the most: not knowing if everything will be okay, not knowing if someone - or yourself at that matter - will be able to turn on the lights.

You've come to believe that the fear will always be there. This uncertainty makes you anxious and, as there is no way of getting rid of what's not certain, you will always have this anxiety within you. Makes sense, right? Until it simply doesn't anymore.

You don't know what's going to happen in the future still. However, now you don't really care. You're okay with the present. That's one of the most important things Taehyung has taught you.

"Y'know, it's okay if you don't have everything figured out just yet. Neither do I. But we're doing well, aren't we?"

He told you that a few days before and you can't stop thinking about it. You were okay. Whenever you were with him, you were okay. Laughing, living, feeling that funny thing where suddenly life is worth living. And whenever you're with him, you have no thoughts at all. The past doesn't haunt you and the future doesn't make you want to run away. The present is just fine.

Maybe that's one of the best things about being around him. You go back to this feeling of being a child, with no worry at all and just happiness. You could even say he was your peace after the storm, but that would probably be an understatement.

Taehyung was the only thing that could bring you peace during the storm.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: Well, that's bad

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Thank you for reading 🤎

Dividers by @firefly-graphics | images 1, 2 and 3

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @sheraayasherrecs

[lunshimmer]

the long road

summary: ellie graduates from jackson's school, and repressed memories come to light.

❀ fandom: the last of us

warnings: ellie has ptsd, mentions of blood, vomit, panic attacks

❀ a/n: this was a heavy one lol i got a little carried away. in honor of graduation season. i also forgot about benji entirely and forgot to write him in!!!

❀ word count: 2,425

❀ divider by @firefly-graphics ❀

The day of graduation was a hot one.

Ellie sits on the back porch, hands occupied with reading The Hobbit and feet dipped in a bucket of water as a half-assed effort to cool off.

The council had been warning people to stay out of the sun and to cool off by any means necessary to prevent heat stroke. There was even talk of rescheduling the small graduation ceremony held to congratulate the teens in Jackson. Ellie was hoping the weather would be shitty enough by some divine intervention for it to be cancelled.

Ellie hated school. In the QZ, all orphans were immediately enrolled in military school-- FEDRA couldn't wait to get their hands on poor, parentless kids and mold them into soldiers that would inevitably perish in some horrific way or another. It was almost a guarantee.

The school system in Jackson was definitely better.

Instead of waking Ellie up at the ass-crack of dawn to start running laps, school in Jackson started at 10 am. No angry pounding on the door, no loud noises to scare the living shit out of anyone who heard them-- just an old alarm clock, set to play American Idiot by Green Day when the time came to start the day.

Ellie didn't miss military school.

The teasing from classmates was the same, though. At least in Jackson, you had someone's parents to bitch at when their kid did something wrong. In the QZ, two kids would just duke it out until someone admitted fault or was almost beaten to death. Ellie was still the scapegoat if something went wrong-- that hadn't changed.

Graduation wasn't really a thing they did in FEDRA school. It was more like, oh great, you survived until sixteen! Here's a gun and a helmet, good luck! In Jackson, if you passed your final exam and were at least seventeen years old, you graduated. The bar was low. Ellie didn't find it necessary to celebrate it at all.

"The hell are you doin'?" Joel's voice questions from the doorway, eyes squinted at Ellie's figure in a curious expression. His arms are crossed over his chest.

"Fuck's it look like?" She replies, placing the open book face down on her lap and gesturing to the bucket. The water's not cold anymore. "Trying to prevent heat stroke. Did you forget what they said?" She leans back in the chair, pulling her feet from the bucket. "Need to put you in a home, old man."

Joel rolls his eyes. "Wow. Ha-ha. Very funny. Are you gonna stop bein' a little shit and get ready to go, or not?"

Ellie notes that he's dressed nicer than usual: jeans without any holes or rips, a short sleeved flannel free of missing buttons and tattered edges. Oh, right. Stupid fucking graduation.

She lets out a dramatic sigh. "Do I really need to go?" Ellie dog-ears the edge of one of the book's pages and stuffs it under her arm. "No such thing as graduation in military school. It's dumb."

"Well, it's what we do here. C'mon, go make 'urself look presentable." He dismisses, walking back through the doorway. "Don't want you lookin' like no hobo."

"Thanks, Joel." She deadpans, trudging back to the shed to get dressed.

---

Dina is the first one to find Ellie when she arrives.

"This is fuckin' lame." Dina whispers, grabbing Ellie by the arm.

"I know." Ellie agrees, waving to Joel as he disappears into the crowd, no doubt to find Tommy.

The church-turned-meeting hall is decorated with a white banner that reads Congrats, grads! in black cursive writing. Ellie spots Jesse among the crowd and beckons him over.

"Hey," Jesse greets, slinging an arm around Dina. "I had a bet that you'd skip."

"Yeah, well," Ellie sighs, "Joel would've dragged me here kicking and screaming if he had to."

The two front rows of the church are empty, and Ellie figures that they're probably reserved for her and her classmates.

"Shit, I think it's starting." Dina says, dragging Jesse and Ellie to find seats in their designated row.

Mrs. Ambrose approaches the podium, smiling freakishly at the crowd and the graduates. A scowl appears on her face when she makes eye contact with Ellie.

"What a bitch." Ellie whispers to Dina.

Dina giggles. "Aww, I bet your bestie's gonna miss you."

Ellie scoffs. "Yeah right."

"Can we cease the talking, please?" The woman shrills, making it obvious that she's complaining about Ellie and Dina.

Ellie waves and Dina blows her a kiss.

Her face scrunches up in disgust. She clears her throat before speaking. "Welcome, graduates and family!"

Right after the introduction, Ellie starts to tune her out. She hears bits and pieces of the speech, something about twenty graduates and fulfilling lives and some other bullshit. What a fitting way to end her time in school.

When Mrs. Ambrose finishes speaking, she gestures for someone else to take the podium. It's some teacher that Ellie didn't know well enough to remember her name. Thank god.

The woman speaks about the long road ahead, life after graduation, and the troubles they'll face as adults. It's a much better speech than Mrs. Ambrose's, and Ellie finds herself actually listening to it.

It leaves a sunken sort of feeling in Ellie's chest.

She zones out for a second-- how in the hell could life get worse than it already was? Ellie had been orphaned at birth, and nearly died countless times. She's had to end other people's lives. How much worse could it get?

The world was dangerous. Life was dangerous. Ellie knew that.

She hoped it couldn't get any worse from here.

"... anyways, congratulations graduates! We are all so proud of you." The woman's voice and sounds of applause pulls Ellie from her thoughts.

Dina engulfs her in a hug, her arms wrapping naturally around Ellie's neck. Jesse pats her on the head.

Ellie attempts a smile, pulling away from Dina as her other classmates stand from their seats and make their way to the mess hall for the reception.

She leaves with the same sinking feeling in her chest.

---

"There's our graduate!" Maria calls, wrapping her arms around Ellie in a tight hug. "We're so proud of you, baby."

She smiles, wrapping her arms around Maria in return. "Thanks."

"So, Ellie," Tommy starts, arms crossed over his chest. "are Joel and I gon' have to put up with your ass on patrol?"

Ellie's eyes widen, turning to Joel with a grin.

He nods reluctantly. "I'll allow it, but just because you'll be with us. No one else until we think you're ready."

"Oh yeah?" She challenges. "It's your old asses that need looked after. Who's gonna retrieve you when your dementia kicks in and you forget where you are?"

Tommy scoffs, playfully rolling his eyes. "Our little comedian." He mutters.

Dina grabs Ellie from behind. "Hey, Millers. Mind if we steal her?"

Joel nods. "Please. We're gettin' sick of 'er."

Ellie gasps as Dina leads her away. "You know you love me!"

Jesse stands in the corner of the room next to the bar. Of course. He hands Dina and Ellie glasses of amber-colored liquer.

Ellie assumes it's whiskey and takes a swig. It is. She appreciates the burn as it moves its way down her throat.

Dina downs hers in one go and grimaces. "Gross."

"So," Jesse starts, taking a swig from his glass. "graduates, huh?"

"Not like it means anything." Ellie shakes her head. "Just means we don't have to suffer through school anymore."

"I'm gonna kinda miss it, though." Dina replies, arm leaning on the bar. "Not the bullying, but.. the no responsibility. Being a kid."

"Yeah," Jesse agrees, turning to order another round.

Ellie's mind wanders back to the woman's speech. "You'll face hardships, even more so than during your childhoods."

Was that true? Maybe she was just talking generally for the kids who've spent their whole lives safe in Jackson. Who've maybe never even seen an infected up close. Was that what she was referencing?

Things had already been bad. She was the only kid to come from a QZ. To know what that was like. To have to kill your best friend. To have to live with the guilt of being part of the reason why she was gone. To have that survivor's guilt that came naturally after being bit and not turning.

Was that all life was? Just waiting for things to get worse? For the other shoe to drop?

She thinks about her mom. And Tess. And Sam. And Henry. And Sarah. And Riley. Riley. Riley. Riley. Riley--

"Hey, Els," Dina says, placing a comforting hand on Ellie's arm. "are you okay?"

She feels her face. It's wet with tears. She wipes them away, hoping Dina and Jesse hadn't seen them. They did. "Yeah, fine."

Jesse's concerned gaze burns a hole through her. The room starts to feel smaller. "I'm gonna-- uh, yeah." She states, making a beeline for the door.

---

The night air isn't as cold as she'd hoped-- that had always seemed to help when it came to something like this. Panic attacks, what Joel had called them.

Joel.

Her vision flashes back to that night in Silver Lake.

Joel, lying on a dirty mattress in some abandoned basement with a nasty gash in his side.

Ellie runs, hand feeling along the buildings she passes as an attempt to keep herself grounded. It doesn't work.

Blood. Needles. Men with guns. Axes. David.

She retches into the pavement below at the thought of him.

Ellie ducks into an alleyway, back sliding against the building as she hits the ground.

I have to run. I can't breathe. He's going to kill me. He's going to do things to me. I have to run. I can't breathe.

Her hands grasp at her chest and her neck, trying something, anything that could help her catch her breath.

Her clothes are restricting. They're getting tighter.

She rips her button up off her body, desperate to be freed. The buttons pop in the process. She tosses the shirt aside.

It doesn't help.

She feels like she's sinking, falling into the ground like it's quicksand.

A call for help tears through her throat in a strangled cry, weeping for anyone to help. To save her.

Her hands grip at her hair, head falling between her knees.

I can't breathe. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't--

"... can you hear me? Ellie!" A voice echoes around her. She knows it's Joel.

She's fourteen again, in a burning building with another man's blood and bone all over her and Joel comes to her rescue.

She doesn't have the strength to lift her head. Joel does it for her.

Ellie sees his face through hazy eyes. She can see smoke-- but a gut feeling tells her that it's not real. "I can't-- I can't!"

"C'mon, baby. You can do it." Joel coaches her to breathe in and out, hand waving at who Ellie assumes is Tommy to help.

Ellie rises to her feet, but it's not by her own doing-- Joel and Tommy heft her up by her armpits, each man on either side of her.

The world around her fades to black.

---

Ellie wakes with a throbbing in her head.

She opens her eyes to see that she's in Joel's house, on the couch. Covered with her blanket.

She doesn't see Joel, or anyone else for that matter-- the only sign of other people is the soft hum of conversation coming from the kitchen.

Ellie tries to speak. Her voice is hoarse and nothing comes out at first, until she really tries. "Hello?"

Two sets of footsteps rush through the kitchen and into the living room. It's Joel and Tommy, like she expected.

"Hey, honey." Joel greets in a hushed tone, crouching down in front of her. His hand palms the top of her head in a calming gesture. "How're you feelin'?"

"Fine." Ellie swallows, attempting to sit up. Joel and Tommy both rush to help. She scowls at them. "You don't need to treat me like I'm fragile."

"We found you having a panic attack surrounded by your own vomit." Tommy interjects. "We're gonna treat you like you're fragile because right now, you are."

"I'm fine." She cuts him off, shedding the blanket. She feels her chest and neck-- both littered with small, puffy scratch marks.

"You're not fine." Joel says, a stern tone to his voice. "You blacked out. Tommy an' I had to carry you home." Ellie can tell from the small tremor in his voice that he's scared.

"It's just a panic attack. I'll be fine." Ellie sighs. She takes a second before continuing. "Thank you for lookin' out for me."

Tommy nods, eyes on Joel. "I'll leave y'all be."

Joel nods at him from his place in front of Ellie. He sighs.

"How long was I like that?" She asks quietly, eyes focused on her hands in her lap.

"Not more'n twenty minutes," Joel responds, rising to sit on the couch next to her. "You were talkin' about Silver Lake."

Ellie stills, her breath catching in her throat. "Yeah."

She feels tears well in her eyes.

"D'you think about that.. a lot?" Joel asks, head turning towards her. She avoids his gaze.

"Not.. so much anymore," She speaks, "used to, a lot. Saw it in my nightmares."

Joel acknowledges with a small hmm. "I did too, for a while." His gaze is fixed on the coffee table in front of him. "Switched between you an' Sarah, covered in blood."

Ellie lets out a quiet sob. "I'm sorry."

"You ain't gotta be sorry." He says, eyes finding hers. Ellie sees the tears in his eyes. "Nothin' you did wrong. Some people're fucked in the head."

"Yeah," She agrees through tears.

"Your life's not gonna get worse." Joel states. "I don't know what idiot thought it'd be a good idea to tell you it only gets worse from here..."

"What if it does?" She interrupts.

"It won't." Joel responds. "Not while I'm around."

The statement makes her feel a little bit better, even though they both know that Joel can't guarantee that. They've both seen too much to know that it's not the truth.

It's nice to have that false sense of security, though. She needs it.

"Okay." She nods, tears flowing freely. "You better keep that promise, old man."

"You bet your ass I will." He laughs, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

[butterfrogmantis]

OKKKK BEANS LETS GO I MADE EVEN MOAR OCS CUZ I CAN

SmurfOtter

A bold and brash smurf with insanely good swimming abilities. Possibly a sideaffect of her mother's magical bubble powers getting translated into another water based ability? Who knows, all we know is Otter takes to water like … well. An Otter! When she's not out in the lake honing her new crawl styles, Otter can usually be found eating, sleeping or bringing back gross little things from the rivers to torment her sister with (it's her version of affection!). For an athletic girl, Otter is surprisnly laid back about other aspects of her life and doesn't care to compete. There's no point in swimming since she's guaranteed to win and she doesn't have the competitive streak other smurfs (COUGHFUCHSIACOUGH) have so she actually gets on pretty well with others. She's a little uncouth at times and doesn't like to dress up much. Comfy is her dry-land style.

SmurfWisteria

The opposite of her sister, Wisteria is a meticulous and organised Smurf who dislikes her sister's bad manners (whilst Wisteria is adamant on using the knife and fork in the correct hands and eating from the outside cutlery in, Otter will just shove everything in using a desert spoon and then belch loudly whilst yelling at the host 'good grub Mr.Chef' kind of thing). Wisteria doesn't seem to have inherited any special powers. Her thing is interior design. And it can get pretty annoying to have her as a house guest because she's so polite but also she will absolutely rearrange your furniture when you step out of the room. She's good at what she does, that can't be denied, but also what the heck Wisty.

SmurfChameleon

The divaaaaaa herself. The trouble with magical transformations is they can often imprint or even rewrite the DNA profile of a Smurf. regardless of how they were born. This can be seen in Brainy -> Precocious with some weresmurf feature and this is also true for Alchemist, who happened to have passed on a few scales and some horns. Combine that with Firefly's glowing powers and you have a cocktail (this is a pun, you'll see why later) for a pretty magical little baby. Chameleon's scales are iridescent, and change colours unlike her father's who mostly stay green. She spent years of her childhood and preteens covering up her scales with makeup but she gives far less fricks these days. She's not a mean smurf but she does have some pretty thick walls around her to cover up her insecurities over her appearance and often assumes others are mocking her when half the time they're not. Chameleon was taught alchemy by her father but seeing the failings, grew away from it for a while, only to discover a calling later on - she makes a wicked mixologist. You want a funky little magical glow-in-the-dark cocktail? She's your gal. Chameleon's drinks tend to come with magical side affects. Temporary, but just be warned before you try her firebreath whiskey shots. Also she's a totalllll nightowl.

Mosaic Smurf

Pretty simple dude. Uses his dad’s scraps of pottery and sculptures to make new art. Aka mosaics ✨ A little bit unassuming on the outside he's kind of your guy next door. Has a pretty wicked sense of humour though, expect a parcel on your doorstep of carefully arranged shards to represent the middle finger if you push him too far. Not too much else to say about him, he's a pretty chill guy (insert that turkish mosaic of the chill skeleton). Speaking of he's gonna go and hide that down by the river to just to mess with Archie. That's for dating his dad in the past and trying to break his pots /lh /j

Shanty Smurf

*Shanty man oh shanty man who's got a berth for a shanty man? * /ref. Short king Shanty is the kind of guy you'd despise if it wasn't for the fact he's so damn entertaining. Growing up alongside his sib, second cousin Vitriolic and her friend Rover, since all were similar ages, at least half English and sea-farers, Shanty found a passion for the most seaworthy of songs from a young age and hasn't shut the fuck up since. This he likes to use to his advantage to annoy Divo Smurf to no end (Meteorite/Rocky ng) since they're so uppity about 'good' music. This means he and Crescendo also get on fantastically since they can team up with Crescendo's french horn and Shanty's songs to be extra annoying. Yet for the average Smurf you just can't help but love Shanty since he's very personable and will go out of his way for those who need an extra helping hand. The one Smurf Shanty does tend to be a little more excessive with annoyance is Diligent (poor guy) for no other reason than Farmer always teasing Fisher, Shanty's dad. Farmer and Fisher's "rivalry" was never serious and neither is Shanty's, he just considers it some sort of mild generational revenge. That being said he lowkey got it bad for Dil deep down because we have to keep up the tradition. Shanty and Fuchsia shall now engage in a sea shanty vs country music battle to profess their superiority.

'Navi'gator Smurf

Navi is more sensible than their brother, but do not challenge them to a geography quiz!! They WILL beat you. Would be insane at geocacher thingys if they existed for Smurfs and can identify places purely on a crappy picture. Less of a star charter than Starry Smurf grows up to be; Navi prefers to travel by daylight and use landmarks like the weird rock that kinda looks like a toadstool to get around. Navi's a true (half)Cornish-er and can usually be found near pasties, cats or stargazy pie - all their favourite things! Ironically they do love opera, but don't tell Shanty that.

Behold!!

SmurfOtter, SmurfWisteria, SmurfChameleon, Mosaic, Shanty and Navigator are mine

[thestarswillguide]

𝐀𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐬 — 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Summary: Just some headcanons of what exactly was going through Aaravos's head during and after his imprisonment

Content/Warnings: Possibly OOC Aaravos (since it's my first time writing for a character), angst (him being depressed and angry (◞‸ ◟) ), Avizandum & Zubeia mention, Claudia & Viren mention, some sweet/hopeful parts here and there ₊˚⊹♡ (wc: 1.1k)

A/N: AHHH this is my first time writing!! (seriously I've never written headcanons or a oneshot or anything oof-) I honestly think these hcs are bad and I'm not sure they're really accurate or if I did this right, but I enjoyed writing them nonetheless 🥲. I had to keep stopping myself from thinking too hard as I imagined myself as him, and sort of just relax my mind and type whatever thoughts came to me, which is what I assume most writers do lol. Anyway, I hope this is up to par 😅. Don't be afraid to send requests and/or interact with me! ☺️✨ (tdp masterlist)

Divider/Gif Credit: @/cyberangel-graphics & @/firefly-graphics | Gif was made by me <3

✧ Aaravos is so relieved to be out of his prison.

✧ Honestly, the council having killed his daughter had already damaged his mental health enough. Being trapped alone in what appeared to be the same place he'd raised her in didn’t help his state at all...

✧ Don’t think he didn’t try to learn about what he was confined in. He examined every part and every oddity, sifting through all his knowledge to figure out the who, what, where, when, why, and how.

✧ I guarantee that not long after he was imprisoned, he attempted at least once to use his Star powers to escape. It was honestly aggravating to go from being a powerful being who could teleport anywhere in the universe to a captive, either halted by the prison or ending up in a different part of it (I’m not even going to mention him trying the portal-).

✧ You'd think because he's lived for so incredibly long that time would go by in the blink of an eye for him, but NOPE, he keeps track—he always does. And being imprisoned made that time feel torturous. To spend centuries without anyone to talk to? Heavens, he was so lonely that it got to the point where he started murmuring to himself...

✧ He would think a lot about his plans; how he’d get out and what he would do once he did. He was sure that the dark mages out there were getting stronger, and knew they’d be even more useful to him than before if one were to ever take the mirror somehow.

✧ The only way he could relax, even just a little bit, was by reading or thinking about Leola, moments spent gazing out of the window or at different parts of the house with a nostalgic smile on his face as memories from long, long ago blurred into his vision...as if time hadn’t passed at all... But that smile would soon disappear as those images faded away, his mind returning to why she wasn’t there with him.

✧ Whenever Avizandum watched him, Aaravos would either ignore him, give him a full-on death glare, or a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Many times, he’d leave the room just to spite him. Oh, why wouldn’t the dragon just drop dead?

✧ Even though patience is one of his greatest strengths, that certainly didn't keep him from being very upset about his predicament. Sometimes he’d look like he was in a trance, lost in his thoughts as all the rage and hurt he harbored made him want to curse and destroy all he bore ill will toward. But behind all that anger...he’s just so old and miserable from all the suffering he’s known and been through. Deep down, he aches for peace...

✧ It was a pleasant surprise however (if he didn't expect it that is) when the mirror brightened again and revealed a human. Aaravos didn’t allow himself to get too eager though (he definitely saw Viren; he’d be great at poker I swear 😂). Those scenes of him walking around the room seemingly without noticing Viren were just him assessing the human, waiting to see if he would be the right vessel he needed.

✧ The mortal staying showed him just how curious he was, and it was perfect. He was pleased because finally, he had a chance. An opportunity to be released. To continue his work and get around this exasperating obstacle.

✧ It was truly gratifying to see the world outside again and move about in it in apparition form. He’d used the caterpillar spell or ones like it before with those in Elarion, secretly whispering into their ear y’know?

✧ His playfulness and carefree smiles are pretty much a mask, a facade...but even though he’s severely depressed underneath, that’s still a part of his personality; it just takes the right person to genuinely bring it out...

✧ Which ended up being Claudia. Even before he was released, he was somewhat fond of her. She was willing to do anything necessary to help Viren, and when working to resurrect him, she often gave Aaravos's unsettling instructions a quirky/amusing remark. It made him feel some sort of way...

✧ At the beginning of season 4, that expression on his face as he was first looking around Zubeia's lair? Yeah, he was peeved. He hated being back there. That’s one of the reasons why he broke the mirror: one, because he was confident enough in the vessels he had to be his ONLY means of escape; and two, because he refused to be watched by a dragon for one more second.

✧ It’s obvious that he likes insects. If the caterpillar had been with him for the past few centuries, that’d have been his only friend. 🐛❤️

✧ As we all know, Aaravos tells half-truths, and although he meant what he said to Claudia about Viren being a great man and everything, it’s sad to say that it’s likely he knows he’s the cause of her father’s death. He had to conceal the truth though, else he would’ve risked losing the only one who would willingly free him.

✧ It was always the same inside his prison; there was no weather, no times of day (which makes it even more remarkable how he kept track of time imo, but he is a Startouch elf so... 🤷🏽‍♀️), nothing. So when he was finally released, everything felt...intense. He seemed calm but his senses weren’t, and he had to get used to all of it again. At some moments he would suddenly close his eyes (esp when the sun first came up omg), looking like he was just having a moment with his thoughts when really he was trying to deal with the bothersome sensations.

✧ And an arrow to the neck? Explosions hitting his body and eyes? Dragons beating him up? Getting bitten by the dragon and then BLOWING UP? I’m telling you, he took it like an absolute champ after having spent three centuries in a tranquil environment!

✧ But all of that doesn’t matter to Aaravos, because his plan had gone exactly how he wanted it to go, and now, he might just have one more reason to live. Losing Leola made him feel empty, devoid of happiness...but Claudia, she gave him the bit of solace his heart had desperately needed for the past few millennia. She had become his only light; his only light in the dark world he felt tormented being in.

✧ So even now, as he waits in the heavens for his return to finish what he started, his decision remains: to not let that light get put out.

𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥/𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 = 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦 😚🩷

[gold-rhine]

if hoyo paid me moral compensation pulls for every faked death in hsr how pulls much i would get, base rate 10 pulls:

first fake death was i think pyro trailblazer by cocolia, but i will actually let it slide, it wasn't cliffhanger, it had narrative purpose, it has clear explanation (the rock god giving powers)

dan heng getting stabbed and unlocking dragon fursona instead of dying. i will not let it slide bc it had no fucking explanation. he didnt even get his reincarnation's memory! just his powers. bc his dead self's ex stabbed him? like?? 10 pulls.

tingyun. actually i think hoyo owes me at least 20 pulls for this one, bc i had to go thru like 40 minute insufferable quest for her fucking funeral, where they realised that players met her for 5 seconds and no characters interacted meaningfully with her, so no one cares, so they had to invent an npc coworker we never met before to show up and give 20 minute infodump about how he loved tingyun and how cool and kind she was bc she brought him souvenirs or whatever. and THEN i had listen to smug clowns being like ooh hsr is so mature and serious, they killed a playable character, for like a year. and then they brought her back. actually, 30 pulls.

penacony had an actual fake death plot device. they should really sell the concept to bollywood and telenovellas

aventurine getting dramatically killed by raiden, making a big deal about walking to the other side of death or whatever, and then nothing fucking happened and he showed up at the end for 30 seconds to be like yeah im fine lol. 15 pulls bc i had to sit thru like 3 hours of solo aventurine yapping psychodrama that went nowhere

cliffhanger about robin being killed +10 pulls

cliffhanger about gallagher killing sunday +10 pulls

firefly. who was fake killed 3 times. and last time she was fake killed was already AFTER we've been told about fake death plot device monster. they were seriously expecting us to buy that shes gonna die. 40 pulls for audacity

some ppl thought sunday died at the end of penacony, at that point i didnt believe it for a second, but i will still take 10 pulls

might be forgetting something with how fucking many fake deaths are in this game but i think thats it?

so far, 125 pulls, so i could guarantee at least one 5 star

[splendsay]

TLOU Oneshot // Joel x F!Reader

The Long Way Home

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader (You) WC: 5,740 Rating: Mature Content Warnings: Explicit language, some suggestive language Themes/Tropes: Second Chances, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Fluff & Angst, "It was always you" Excerpt:

Time is funny.

That which will pass, no matter what happens. What choices you make. 

It has a way of making you feel as young as you always were and older than you've ever been -- all at once. 

In a world where a functioning bathroom isn't a guarantee, neither is a mirror. You don't entirely mind. You don't often feel ready to face what others see. And the woman who looks back at you each time you do manage to find one is a little different than the last. 

Time and change are old friends, or so the saying goes. Swinging, hand-in-hand, on a tire strung up on an ancient tree, some branches dry and barren, others bestrewn in fluffy pink blooms, others still covered in a mix of leaves -- verdant hues fading into deep, rich ruby. 

It's a gift, to get older. At least, that's what you were always told. 

Some days you see it. Some days you don't.

Some days you stand with one foot in either puddle.

Like today.

It's been an age since you saw him last. Nearly three decades. You'd known him another two before that. In another life. A different century. Millennium.

Texas is a big place, but it always felt small to you. Claustrophobic. Felt like you'd grown up knowing every single person in Austin. 

None better than the Miller brothers. 

You grew up next door. And though both boys had been several years ahead of you in school, they were always good to you. Walked with you to the bus stop every morning. Helped you learn how to ride your bike without training wheels. Caught fireflies with you in the summertime. 

Joel had been your de facto babysitter any time your mom worked late. Or just...never came home. She never asked him to. Certainly never paid him. He just sort of -- showed up. Him and Tommy together, usually. Made you instant mac and cheese for dinner. Let you watch cartoons after you finished your homework. Braided your hair before bed. Read you stories. 

He'd been a kid too. But he'd always made you feel safe. Cared for. And you adored him for it. For as long as you can remember, you'd thought the world of him. Your personal sanctuary, in human form.

As years passed, those feelings evolved. Grew from childlike admiration to genuine friendship to -- a love that little else could touch. An attraction that no matter what you did or whose arms you threw yourself into, you couldn't shake. Couldn't bury. Couldn't forget.

Last you can recall seeing him was the day you left for art school, bags slung over your shoulders, teeth bared in a crooked, anticipative grin. He was the only one to see you off. By then, your mom was somewhere knee deep in a well of gin.  

He had given you a long, steadying hug. Offered to drive you to the bus station while Sarah clung to your leg and begged you not to go. She'd still been a little thing. Just starting school. No older than six. 

It had broken your heart to leave her. To leave them both. 

Crushed it into tiny, unsalvageable pieces. 

You think about it all the time. What things might've been like if you had stayed. 

Joel asked you to. The night before. In between messy, feverish kisses and crisp, silken sheets -- a fleeting moment. Desperate. Ardent. Finally breathing your feelings for him to life. Like taking pen to paper. 

He'd sunk to his knees, his voice wavering on a plea -- one you'd spent countless nights longing for. 

And you still walked away. You told him no.

The word had tasted bitter in your mouth. It wasn't one you wielded often, at least not then. Felt like it was killing you as it ripped from your mouth. Like a saw blade, tearing your throat in two.

No.

But the only thing bigger than your love for Joel Miller had been your need to get the fuck out of Austin. To figure out who you were and what you wanted and how the world worked. Twenty-two and too spirited for your own good. Too driven and too proud. Hardheaded. You'd needed to go. 

And so you had. 

You had been proud of yourself for half a second -- for choosing your dream. But you spent a lot longer regretting it. Every day, really. Those first ten months in Savannah were spent crying yourself to sleep, crying in the arms of your chagrined roommate, crying into cups of blue-gray paint water. 

You had told him, in that quiet, solemn car ride, that you'd come back. Swore up and down you'd come home.

But he never called. Never wrote to you. 

Of course, you'd asked him not to. Afraid you wouldn't be able to resist him if he did. But it broke your little dreamer's heart that he didn't try harder. Didn't fight harder.

You'd taken it as a sign. You were all about signs back then.

So you stayed away. If he could move on, so could you. Or, at least, that's what you told yourself. 

But, when the outbreak happened, Joel and Sarah had been your first thought. You were still in Savannah, a few years out of school, teaching art to first graders, trying in your off time to hack it as a painter. Another teacher had a meltdown in the middle of the hall during lunch. Attacked a kid. When you'd called the school's resource officer, she'd ripped the guy's throat out. 

That had been the beginning of the end. 

And what a very long end it turned out to be. 

You'd immediately fled back to Texas. So stupidly sure you'd find him. You'd find him and cling to him -- survive whatever the fuck this was together. 

But you never could. 

Dust on the wind. 

A second ago, you walked through Jackson's saloon door, not entirely sure what to expect. You know Tommy will be here, his wife told you as much. But she'd also said Joel had returned the other day with his little kid in tow. Your skin had gone cold at that. Joel. His little kid.

Sarah wasn't little. Not anymore. 

The mix of emotions has you feeling bereft. Agony and hope and remorse. You shake them off -- shut your mind to them. As best you can. You think of simple things. Tranquil things. Clean bed linens. A starless night sky. Water running along a smooth riverbed.

Quiet. Blank. Clean. 

But, it's interesting how, even with that quiet mind -- no expectations in place -- you can still be blindsided. 

Somehow -- you don't know how -- you remember him well enough that you recognize him from behind. Instantly.

The way he stands. The breadth of his shoulders. The curl of his hair, now threaded with gray, much like your own. 

Time is funny. 

That which will pass. An old friend of change. And maybe -- preservation.

Every feeling you ever buried roars to the surface. A veritable wave -- a tunnel that blocks out the light of the sun, stirring up sand and detritus and bulbous creatures just minding their own seafaring business, crashing against a smooth, placid surface in an aquamarine spray, pushing and pulling and swelling up to do it all over again. 

You almost don't even see Tommy next to him, grinning and waving at you. The room seems to pull the air from your lungs. And when he turns and visibly recognizes you, your knees threaten to buckle. 

He looks -- the same. Good. Weathered, to be sure, but just as ruggedly handsome as he'd been in his mid-twenties. He's...he's Joel. As you've always known him, even as he's lived in your dreams. He stares at you, wide-eyed and unmoving.

"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes," Tommy croons, pushing off the bar. 

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. Tommy was your friend too.

You stride to them, suddenly very aware of the fit of your jeans. The way your shirt hangs off your too-thin body. The plainness of your bare face and the long, silver plait down your back. The clunk your boots make on the wooden floorboards as you walk across them. 

But you shrug your shoulders back and push all those things as far down as you can manage.

"If it ain't the Millers," you hum. 

"Hey, darlin'," Tommy murmurs, opening his arms for a hug. You take him up on it without question, pressing your body to his. His embrace swallows you.

"You've grown at least a foot since I last saw ya," he comments.

A hoarse laugh works its way out your throat. It's true -- he'd left for the army a few years prior to your own departure. You'd still been a girl. "I was a late bloomer."

He chuckles and releases you, leaning his back against the edge of the bar. "Aside from the height, you look the same, gal."

You snort. "Lyin's a sin, Thomas Miller."

He chuckles and turns to gesture to the man behind the bar. 

"What uh...what are y'all doing out here?" you ask, looking from one brother to the other. Your eyes snag on Joel's, whose remain keyed onto you. His body incredibly still. Frozen. It isn't lost on you that he hasn't said a word. You try to ignore the heat rising along the back of your neck.

"Could ask you the same."

You feel your smile falter. "It's, uh...it's a long story."

Tommy accepts a beer from the bartender and slides it toward you. "They usually are."

You stare at it for a second, your delicate mind suddenly stuck in Georgia -- the hellscape you managed to flee.

"Don't like beer?"

You reach your hand up to grasp the glass, running your thumb along its cold surface. Joel clears his throat, drawing your gaze back to his.  "No, sorry, I'm just -- slow to take it all in, I guess."

Tommy looks between the two of you, brows furrowed slightly, but doesn't comment on his brother's silence. "I reckon that's fair enough." He takes a sip. "So, what, uh...what brings you to Jackson?"

You absently trace the rim of your drink. "Atlanta is...uninhabitable. Um...so I left." 

"Atlanta?" Joel interjects, his voice hoarse. Like he hasn't used it in awhile. 

You startle a little at hearing it. After all this time. 

But you nod, studying his face. You note a couple scars you don't recognize. The gray in his scruff. You're very aware of your heartbeat.

"Yeah...Atlanta."

"You...you've been there...all this time?"

You shake your head. "No, no. Just the last few years."

"Where...where were you before?"

"Texas," you answer softly. "Dallas."

You think maybe Joel's stopped breathing. You've never seen him wear the expression he's wearing now. Like he's been shot in the stomach. 

"Are...you okay?"

The expression vanishes. "Yeah, just. Tired."

You glance at Tommy, but he's busy gulping down the rest of his beer. You take a long pull of your own. It's crisp on your tongue -- a refreshment you're no longer used to. It takes a concerted effort not to groan. 

"Well, I uh...," Tommy starts, fidgeting with his hands. "I'm gonna go check on Maria. You know, baby and all. I'll -- I'll leave you two to catch up." His discomfort is palpable, but still, he claps you on the shoulder. "Come see us at the house, okay?"

You nod. "Yeah, okay. I -- I will."

You watch him walk away, though you aren't really looking. Your attention is wholly focused elsewhere. You take another sip of your beer. 

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Why The Caged Bird Sings | Chapter 4

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction) Rating: Explicit Relationships Vinsmoke Sanji x F!Reader Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Patty, Red Leg Zeff, Original Characters, Strawhat crew. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, minor POV switching. Summary: One night, you were brought to the luxurious Baratie Restaurant Ship, renowned for its exceptional cuisine that your family had been intrigued to sample. A particular blond and comely waiter captured your attention with his charming smile and gentle eyes, but while your beauty and sophistication intrigued him, Sanji also observed the profound nervousness that caused your jaw and body muscles to tense whenever your fiancé made contact with your hand or your parents delivered a humiliating criticism towards you. One dinner at the Baratie soon turned into a recurring event, and then more. As your friendship with Sanji slowly evolved into something that burned from within, you strove to make your longstanding dream come true; freeing yourself from a constricting existence. ------------------------- As Sanji looked at you curiously, the gentle smile never leaving his face, you asked him, "Do you know why the caged bird sings?" He thought about it for a moment before answering, "Because it has a song to give?" You chuckled at his response and shook your head. "You're not entirely wrong, but no."

Divider by firefly-graphics

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

Author's note: Another long chapter, what is new! Things for the Reader are finally taking a good turn, with a new life at the horizon. I want her relationship with Sanji to develop properly and in the most realistic way possible, but I can pretty much confirm that, in the next update, a kiss will finally take place.

The Baratie was delivering more than a memorable meal on a casual night. In fact, you were set on crossing paths with Sanji again, perhaps even as a part of his team.

Despite your genuine intention to resolve matters at home, a whole week passed, and yet, you hadn't mustered the courage to approach your parents' door.

Mari had welcomed you into her home for as long as you needed, urging you to extend your stay until you felt sufficiently prepared to face your father's wrath. However, the harsh reality was that you would never truly be ready, as you had been grappling with this problem since you were born.

Sleep was elusive. The anxiety of potential repercussions gnawed at your insides, considering your father's unpredictable nature and the fact that he could orchestrate any form of punishment as long as it guaranteed your compliance.

"I'm telling you, just take your time. Rushing it would only backfire," Mari advised you, as you found it difficult to even consume your meal.

"I know, but I can't keep hiding here just to avoid them.”

She exhaled deeply. "I understand, but you should at least devise a reasonable plan.”

You grumbled in response. "A plan? Mari, no plan can shield me from my father's fury. I rejected the Admiral's son, and he considered it crucial to hand me over for his political gain. It's all a business transaction to him.”

"What kind of father treats his own daughter as a mere business asset?”

"Apparently, mine does.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

You shook your head, standing up and beginning to pace to and fro. "The problem is, there's no escape for me. If I confront him, he might just lock me in and force me into marriage. If I flee, he would most certainly hunt me down.”

Mari shrugged. "You could always seek refuge at the Baratie. You seemed quite at ease there, and you've even made a rather special friend.”

You attempted to disregarded her suggestive wink. "It’s the first place my father would take into account, and the last thing I want is for him to create a commotion and hassle the staff there.”

"But they could defend you. The head chef used to be a pirate, and you told us how Sanji gave Nutty a good thrashing. Honestly, that guy is fit as heck.”

“Mari.”

"Hey, I'm serious! Perhaps your judgment is clouded, but mine isn't. We all noticed the chemistry between you two. Sanji is genuinely interested in you, and with his strength and agility? Girl.”

It was difficult for you to ignore the blush creeping onto your cheeks at the thought. "That's not the issue here. I don't want to burden him more than I already have.”

She raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, fine. I tried. Do it your way. But remember how long it took you to finally stand up against that jerk. I'm concerned for you, you know?”

You smiled. “I know.”

"All I'm suggesting is that you should stay here for at least another week. We can brainstorm a solution together.”

You were about to nod in agreement, when a forceful knock on her front door startled both of you. You pivoted towards Mari, straining your ear to determine if the person outside had mistakenly approached the wrong house.

"Were you expecting someone?" You asked her. "Did you invite the others?”

You immediatly felt apprehensive as you noticed her tense up in the distinct way she did when something was off. The knocking continued, more insistent than before, and somehow, a part of you already foresaw what was about to occur.

"I didn't," she responded. "Stay here.”

Mari dashed to the entrance, alert and clutching her gun as she moved. You heard the sound of the door being unlocked and creaking open, followed by her cautious, distant voice and another that was painfully familiar to you.

So familiar, in fact, that it sent a chill through your veins as soon as you heard it.

“Where is she?”

Your blood ran ice cold.

"I have no idea who you're referring to, sir," Mari replied indifferently.

"There's no need for you to hide her, she's been spotted here. Step aside, immediately.”

Your father's authoritative tone was unnerving. Even in someone else's home, he had the audacity to behave like a Marine when, in truth, he was a nobody. He leveraged his high-status acquaintances and associates as his safety net, confident that he had someone to turn to in times of need. He considered himself supremely important, treating everyone else as an inferior citizen with no significant rank.

Primarily your friends.

But Mari, being the strong-willed person she was, undoubtedly didn't feel intimidated.

"Nope, that's not going to fly with me. This is my place, so I suggest you just get lost and go hassle someone else.”

You heard the sound of the gun being cocked, and at that moment, you realized you couldn't remain idle. You were deeply indebted to her, aware that she would go to extraordinary lengths to ensure your safety and happiness. But as brave and robust as she was, and as much as you valued her protection and the zeal she invested in everything she did for you, the last thing you wanted was for her to bear the burden of your father's blood on her hands and land herself in trouble.

And despite the nature of your relationship with the man, you harbored no desire to see him meet his end.

You swiftly moved towards the door, your heart hammering in your chest as you saw her standing in the entrance, effectively barricading it.

"Mari, it's okay," you stated coldly. "I'll be fine.”

Your friend scarcely turned her head, not wishing to lower her guard in the presence of your unfazed father.

"No, Y/N. This man has wrecked your life. How 'fine' can you possibly be?”

Your father laughed boisterously. "Wrecked her life? I've only ever done what's best for her. But I don’t expect someone like you to understand.”

"How is arranging your daughter's marriage to a man she hates in her best interest?!”

It might have appeared almost comical, considering how his face was reddening and puffing up. You wished for nothing more than to see him back down and entirely give up on you, but you were aware that he wouldn't leave you alone when his personal benefit was at stake.

"Mari, that's enough," you said softly. "You're incredible and I love you, but I'll handle it from here.”

You could see her hesitance, her eyes darting back and forth, barely budging from the doorway. You gently squeezed the hand that was still clutching the gun, so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.

Eventually, she dropped her shoulders and stepped aside to let you pass. "If anything happens to her," she began, casting a threatening glance at your father. "I swear, high status or not, you'll regret ever being born.”

"Watch your language, you impertinent child. I would never harm my own daughter."

"Yeah, because she's a crucial pawn in your schemes, right??”

Before he could delve further into the argument, you nudged him away. "Let's just go, please.”

You whispered a quiet "thank you" to Mari, and all your friend could do was exhale a frustrated sigh as she saw the man take a firm grip of your upper arm. You knew she wasn't the type to sit still, and there was a strong possibility that she might rally the rest of the group to follow you and keep surveillance outside your family's home.

That thought alone provided some solace, because no matter how strenuous things with your father might become over time, you knew you had a reliable support network in those good-hearted people. Your only regret was that it took so many years for you to understand that you couldn't continue letting your parents make decisions for you, simply because you yearned for their acceptance, their love, and to finally receive the decent treatment you deserved.

It was painful, and undeniably hard to accept, but that was something they were incapable of doing.

Your father was visibly enraged, not uttering a word to you during the journey. The way he was practically dragging you around was predictably filled with ire, and all you could do was respond to the onlookers' stares with a reassuring smile.

Deep down, though not really that deep, you found it absolutely mortifying, disheartening, and miserable.

Upon reaching your family's house (because you could no longer consider that place your home, it never truly was), he flung the door open. "Get in," he barked, roughly shoving you inside.

You stumbled and had to steady yourself with the back of the vacant chair at the head of the table. Your mother sat to the left, with Christopher to the right and Admiral Wheeler directly opposite you.

The atmosphere was thick with tension, your mother nervously cutting her piece of bread without even casting a glance your way, while your former fiancé's neck and jaw were rigid with stress. The admiral, on the other hand, seemed more puzzled and intrigued than anything else.

Somehow, perhaps due to your escalating nervousness, the whole situation elicited a chuckle from you as you took your seat. Your father occupied the empty chair next to his wife, and Chris immediately turned to you with a swollen, patched-up nose.

Unable to contain your enjoyment, you asked mockingly, "How's your face?"

His response was utterly foreseeable.

“Go to hell, bitch.”

“Christopher Wheeler.”

The admiral's voice was surprisingly booming, startling everyone present.

"What?! She started it!”

His father grunted, lightly smacking his hand against the table and causing his glass to vibrate on it. "How old are you, 12?”

It was unusual and somewhat unexpected, as the Admiral usually maintained a neutral stance, seldom intervening unless it was to make a joke. Somehow, you got the impression that he was taking your side for the first time, but you didn't want to deceive yourself with something that could simply be a product of your imagination.

Chris lowered his gaze, muttering a curse under his breath. Your mother's hands trembled with agitation, while your father cleared his throat to commence his speech.

"Admiral, I believe my daughter owes you an apology," he declared. "I'm certain this is all just a misunderstanding and she will come to her senses.”

The man leveled his gaze at you, expectation clearly etched in his eyes, yet remarkably devoid of any irritation. “Is that so?”

You sighed, feeling positively incensed and not in the mood to hold back. "No. I am perfectly sane.”

With a growl, your father took a deep breath, making an effort to recollect his composure. Sensing his tension, your mother tenderly grazed her fingers against his wrist, doing the best she could to defuse the situation.

"She's not serious. Y/N merely panicked when your son proposed to her, nothing more.”

With a look of disgust, you shifted your attention to your father. "May I remind you that you're not in my head.”

He nonchalantly brushed you aside with a dismissive wave of his hand, anxiously awaiting the Admiral's response.

Nevertheless, the Marine kept his focus directed at you, narrowing his eyes as though wanting to perceive something that you couldn't quite put into words.

"Perhaps she should speak for herself," he suggested.

Your father was left dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open as he glanced back and forth between you and the Admiral.

A slight smile appeared on your face. "At least someone values my opinion.”

The admiral gave a nod of his head, which threw Christopher into a state of discomfort.

You had no intention of holding yourself back. "He slapped me. Are we truly going to overlook that?”

Christopher coughed, squirming in his chair like a mouse caught in a trap.

"Hold on, what? Is that the truth, son?”

“W-well…. uhm….”

Admiral Wheeler released a sigh of defeat, shrouding his face with his large hand while incessantly shaking his head.

“I was angry!”

Frankly, you expected your former fiancé to deny it, to pretend innocence and claim that you were spinning stories for self-defense, all while maintaining the facade of a noble and respectful man. However, in the end, he appeared so inconsequential and weak that it evoked pity in you. He seemed to crave his father's approval, reflecting the same longing you nurtured towards yours for a very long time.

The Admiral pronounced your father's name with such severity that it made both him and your mother wince. "I'd like to have a word with your daughter. In private.”

Your father was visibly panicking, for things were veering in a direction he hadn't predicted. "Uhm, well you see.... I don't think that's a good ide-”

“I insist.”

The Marine's face was marked by a large grin, yet it was so strained and intimidating that it managed to scare even you.

Ultimately, your parents had no choice but to comply, sinking back into their seats like two frightened children. You had never seen them appear so distraught.

"Y/N, would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen?”

The noticeably softer way in which the Admiral addressed you was disarming, yet you appreciated it all the same.

As he rose from his chair and ambled away, the silence that enveloped the main room was deafening. You promptly followed him and closed the kitchen door behind you, feeling a bit uneasy as you had never really established much familiarity with the Admiral.

Mr. Wheeler settled in comfortably, exhaling a relaxed breath and signaling for you to join him. Heeding his gesture, you took a stool next to him, the flickering fire in front of you, your gaze resting on the chicken being prepared.

At the current pace, you were sure it would end up burnt, but you found yourself lacking the energy to make a comment on it.

"Sir, I apologize for dragging you into this," you finally voiced. "It wasn't my intention to disrespect you or your son.”

He arched an eyebrow in disbelief. "Do you think I wanted to speak with you because of that?”

“That’s not it?”

"No, my dear. I am actually interested in understanding how you truly feel. It's evident that you don't wish to marry my son. Thus, I'm curious as to why you adhered to your father's directive up until this point?”

Your eyes dropped to your hands, your chest constricting with emotion. "Because I wanted to make him happy."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Even if it implies condemning yourself to a lifetime of unhappiness?”

"It's pathetic, isn't it?”

"No, Y/N. It's not.”

For some reason, his unexpected kindness brought tears to your eyes, and you found yourself suppressing a sob of despair that rattled you to your core.

"In reality, I am the one who owes you an apology.”

You sniffled, wiping your forming tears away. "Why is that?”

"For all this time, I merely stood by in silence, permitting your old man to do as he pleased. I considered him a valuable asset, given his extensive network and the wealth of information he has access to.”

You listened in silence, engulfed in the grief you had suppressed for far too long.

"I've been observing you. I assumed you would object, as your expression suggested you were not in agreement with his instructions, but then you never did.”

Your attention was fixated on the flames consuming the chicken, which was now assuming a questionable dark hue.

"Eventually, I convinced myself that I was wrong, that you willingly chose this path and had your unique way of expressing it. I never truly took your feelings into account, I remained silent, and didn’t step up to protect you.”

"You weren't obligated to look out for me, Admiral," you asserted.

"No, but you were on track to become a part of my family. Under the assumption that you would marry my son, I should have shown more consideration.”

"What changed, then?"

"You did. The night we dined at the Baratie, I noticed something in you that wasn't present before. You looked so heartbroken… so out of place. And for the first time, you snapped.”

You recollected the way your father treated you that night, so disrespectful, demanding a level of submission you were no longer willing to exhibit.

"It was rather amusing, truth be told. I witnessed you finally standing up for yourself, and your father was unable to control that.”

Your lips trembled as you managed to summon another smile for him.

"You see, when my wife passed away, I pledged to my son that I would be a good parent, to prevent him from feeling any sense of deprivation growing up," he elaborated. "But I made a grave mistake; I ended up spoiling him, granting his every wish. I even facilitated his career progression because I knew he aspired to follow in my footsteps.”

While Admiral Wheeler typically radiated confidence, strength, and composure, he now seemed like an entirely different person. The man sitting beside you was vulnerable, sensitive, and laden with flaws that made him a bit more human. Just like you.

"When I recognized that he had become self-centered and excessively prideful to the point of discomfort, it was too late. I could no longer influence his character.”

"Admiral, I may not like your son, but Christopher has some redeeming qualities too.”

"I appreciate your intention to assuage my guilt, but there's no need to defend him. Never did I teach him it was acceptable to lay a hand on a woman.”

"I wasn’t exactly nice to him. I’m not saying that I deserved it, it’s just…”

He tenderly squeezed your shoulder in a paternal way. "No, there's no excuse for what he did. And I'm extremely sorry you had to endure all of this."

There was so much you wanted to convey, but despite the immense effort to organize your thoughts, the only thing that managed to escape your lips was a simple "Okay.”

"Just tell me something, Y/N, and please answer honestly. Do you believe I can trust your father?”

His question took you by surprise, but it was clear to you that by that point, the Admiral had grown deeply doubtful of their partnership.

For a brief moment, you deliberated whether it was appropriate to reveal the truth to him. Perhaps, if this had happened just a few weeks earlier, you might have felt unable to do so.

But as the Admiral had pointed out, you were no longer the same.

"From a professional standpoint, he excels at what he does, and he holds a significant amount of knowledge that could be advantageous to you.”

“But?”

You pursed your lips together, constructing the most persuasive sentence possible to convince him.

"But I don't believe he's trustworthy. You've seen what he tried to do with me; he shows no qualms when it comes to his own interests.”

He affirmed with a tilt of his head. "Seems like I squandered my time on such a greed-driven mastermind.”

“I’m sorry.”

"Don't be. If anything, I came to this realization before it was too late.”

He pushed his chair back and stood up, switching off the fire and waving his hand to dissipate the building smoke. The chicken was undeniably overcooked and much too charred to be edible. What a waste.

“Well, this room now reeks.”

In a fit of genuine amusement, the admiral returned to your side, giving you a supportive pat on the back as he did so.

"You know," he admitted, " You've always been superior to anyone else in my circle. You exude honesty and innocence; everything you do is heartfelt, even in moments when you're not fully aware of it.”

Ironically, the praises you had wished for from your own family were now being bestowed upon you by the man they chose to be your father-in-law.

“Part of me harbored the belief that you could change my son, turn him into a better man, and succeed where I have failed,” he admitted. "But the reality is, he would only end up shattering you.”

As the smoke dissipated through the open window, it unveiled the chicken that looked defeated, drained, and consumed. A mirror image of how you had felt for too many years.

"I want to make amends, Y/N. I understand that I'm not your family, but I believe your parents aren't the best figures to look up to. Should you ever require anything, absolutely anything, don't hesitate to approach me.”

Unconsciously, a sigh of relief escaped from you. The knowledge that you had an ally, someone as influential and impartial as he was, brought a measure of consolation, however slight.

"Thank you, Admiral. Your words carry great significance for me."

Reflecting on the intimidation you experienced the first time you laid eyes on Admiral Wheeeler, you found it mildly amusing now. Your worry was unfounded, as a powerful wave of confidence swept over you, bolstered by the man’s reassuring presence.

At that point, the prospects could only get better. After all, once you've hit rock bottom, there's no direction left but upwards.

You had emerged victorious.

After a lifetime of living in fear, enduring criticism and subjugation, you had finally triumphed in your battle against your family.

Admiral Wheeler had officially cut all professional ties with your father, which resulted in the latter exploding in rage, blaming you for being a complete catastrophe and ruining his career. However, this time, regardless of the aggression he unleashed, you didn’t even flinch. You allowed him to vent while you calmly sipped your tea, also taking satisfaction in how his former partner chastised him, forcefully ordering him to leave you alone and treat you with respect.

But it didn’t stop there. The Admiral chose to demote his son effective immediately, compelling him to regain his position without any form of favoritism. Your ex-fiancé was seething, on the brink of desperation so intense that you believed he might succumb to tears any moment. He glanced at you as if you were the most repulsive creature he had ever encountered.

And you were thoroughly gratified.

With most of your belongings already stowed away in your secret stash, there wasn't much you needed to retrieve from your old room. You happily left all those incredibly uncomfortable clothes untouched, as you were mainly focused on collecting a few leftover books.

Now that the Admiral and his son had left, the house fell into silence, and you found your parents in a state of utter defeat, staring blankly at the floor as you stepped into the living room.

You observed them to gauge whether they had anything additional to contribute to their ceaseless list of insults, but it appeared they no longer had the energy to even try.

Quietly, you moved towards the door, holding your bag and wrapping your hand around the handle. But before you could open it and step outside for the very last time, you felt the need to voice your feelings, despite knowing they would likely take no effect.

“You know, things could have been different. If you had treated me like a daughter rather than a tool from the moment I was born, I could have truly added value to this family.”

Your father grunted, shaking his head to dismiss your argument.

"I understand you wanted a son, dad. I apologize for not being the one you had hoped for.”

He looked away, and your mother wrapped her arms around herself, releasing a deep sigh.

“You've enslaved me and molded me into a submissive echo of a person. I've done nothing but strive to please you, to provide what you desired. But in the end, it was never enough.”

He was about to retaliate, but this time, your mother took his hand and signaled him to restrain himself.

And so, you persisted undeterred.

"I wish I could say that I hate you, but despite how much you've hurt me, I can't deny that I still love you after everything.”

Your words appeared to deliver a potent message, akin to an arrow hitting dead center. However, you didn't let their sudden discomposure detain you any longer. 

Most likely, they were simply wounded in their pride more than anything else.

"But, as much as I'd like to erase the past, the fact remains that I won't be able to ever forgive you.”

Your mother bit her lower lip, and your father appeared to hold a similar degree of resentment. Certainly, you didn't expect him to envelop you in his arms and plead for a second chance, but the prioritization of his status over his own flesh and blood inflicted yet another painful wound to your heart.

"I wish you a good life.”

Your grip on the bag's strap tightened, and without a single backward glance, you thrust the door open to be welcomed by the evening air, with the final rays of the setting sun fading on the horizon. 

And by your friends, who were patiently leaning against the wall of your family’s house, prepared to step in at any given moment if necessity arose.

Your parents made no effort to hinder you. They neither called out your name nor insisted that you remain. 

Everything had come to an end, and you were completely freed from the chains that had kept you trapped in a lifelong nightmare from which you had finally awakened.

"What are you going to do now?" Rory asked as she sat on the couch with you. "I'm glad you're finally free from that despot, but technically, you're now homeless.”

"No, she is not. I have plenty of room here, she can stay with me,” said Mari.

You chuckled, sitting up straight. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I'll be sticking around in this town.”

They all froze on the spot, staring at you as if they had just seen a ghost.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Marlo asked.

"Well, at least for the immediate future. I'm not entirely sure where I'll end up eventually, but... there's something I really want to do now.”

Your friends shared a knowing look with each other, immediately emitting a satisfied, mischievous 'Ooohh.’

"Wait, guys, it's not what you think.”

"Really?" Rubio sat on the opposite side of the couch, nudging you with his large elbow. "So you're not going to tell us you're heading back to the Baratie for that chef-guy?”

You rolled your eyes. "It's not exactly like that. Well, not entirely.”

"Aha!”

"I'm serious! He's not the primary reason, I still owe them for the chaos that Christopher created.”

Mari rested her hand on her chin, pondering aloud. "You know, that's not a bad excuse.”

“It’s not an excuse!”

Marlo snickered. "Yeah, and I'm a fish-man. Come on, we know you all too well.”

At times, they could be exasperating, but without a doubt, they had a better understanding of you than you did of yourself.

"Okay, fine. I admit I do want to see him again... but there's something about the Baratie that I can't quite put into words.”

Rory's expression brightened. "Wait, you want to work there?”

"Maybe? I am contemplating it. I need to compensate them for the wasted food and damaged tableware.”

Marlo nodded. "That makes sense, but it might only be for a short time. How much do you think that stuff was worth?”

Mari started to mentally tally up. "Well, their cuisine is of high quality and not exactly the cheapest. The tableware may not be particularly expensive, but they ended up with at least two plates and two glasses to replace.”

“Let's not forget about the tablecloth to wash,” you added.

Rubio gave a nonchalant shrug. "So maybe a week or less?”

“Most likely, yes.”

You exhaled a sigh. "Guys, this is just a hypothesis. I'm not even certain they would allow me to work there at all.”

Mari shot you a wild, excited grin. “But you have an inside connection.”

"Indeed! Sanji would definitely put in a good word for you," Rory chimed in.

The enthusiastic way they encouraged you was simultaneously embarrassing and thrilling. Their backing prompted a hearty laughter from you as they all gathered around, embodying the spirit of the close-knit family they represented.

Thus, as Mari was delineating the specifics for your formal employment request, she assured you a safe passage on their ship.

The day you left your hometown to return to the Baratie, your anxiety escalated to levels you thought were only attainable when dealing with Christopher or your father. Now, as you attired yourself and mentally braced for an endeavor that could potentially lead to a total flop, managing your soaring nerves emerged as your most formidable challenge yet.

This time around, only Mari accompanied you on your journey. The others had their own obligations to attend to, and they felt it would be awkward to all turn up simply for you to hand in a job application.

In a way, they acted as if you wouldn't be returning, hugging you tightly and wishing you a marvelous time at the floating restaurant. Their optimism undeniably compensated for your own scarcity of it, and they succeeded in instilling a bit of positivity in you.

The weather was pleasant, warm with a touch of moisture in the air, but offset by the cool, revitalizing sea breeze. The ship felt notably empty with just you and Mari on board, but you didn't want to burden the others with the expectation of always being in your company.

The reality was, you were uncertain about what awaited you. Not only were you unsure about possible developments with Sanji, but there also existed a risk that Zeff might scoff at you for even nurturing ambitions of securing a role at the Baratie. What could you feasibly contribute to their team other than some dishwashing and kitchen tidying? Your home cooking skills weren't outstanding enough to be of use, and you couldn't think of any other particular talents you possessed. You had dedicated so many years striving to liberate yourself from your constrained existence that you barely had time to develop new ones.

Luckily, Mari was there to bolster your spirits and remind you that cleaning itself was indeed a valuable ability. You had a notable knack for being quick and extremely meticulous in that area, and such a trait would be a significant asset for any restaurant, irrespective of its reputation.

Being used to your parents' critique, it was difficult for you to harbor the same self-belief as your friends did, but you determined that it would be worth attempting regardless of the result.

Now, as you looked at the ocean waves softly swaying the ship, immersed in your thoughts, Mari clasped your hand in hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Hey, I know that embarking on a new life can be daunting, but I'm incredibly proud of you for what you've accomplished.”

You replied with a smile, returning the supportive gesture. "Whenever I think about it, I feel as though I might wake up and discover that none of it was real.”

Mari shook her head. "Believe me, Y/N, it's absolutely real. And all jokes aside, I must say that I genuinely root for you and Sanji.”

“I barely know him. And I'm not sure if I can truly take his compliments at face value.”

"Why, do you believe he's merely toying with you? Because I think he’s serious.”

You took a moment to consider your response, then declared, "No, it's not that. I can see in his eyes that he's not lying. But in the end, I'm just one amongst the multitude of customers he's come across, and you've seen how prone he is to flirting.”

Mari emitted a grunt. "Yes, but that's different. Do you want to know what I genuinely saw?”

“What did you see?”

"Sanji is handsome, and an incredibly talented cook too. But despite his good looks and talents, I think he's actually a little insecure. I could be wrong, but who knows what that guy has been through.”

Upon contemplation, you realized you didn't really know much about Sanji's past, as he hadn't divulged anything beyond his life at the Baratie, his spats with Zeff, and his dream of discovering the All Blue. You hadn't asked, but it was plausible that Mari had a point.

"What I'm saying is that the way he looked at you was authentic, and I'm not speaking from my biased perspective. You know that I can be quite straightforward when necessary. Sanji likes you, I'm sure of it... and if you ended up working there alongside him, all doubts would be dispelled.”

Mari was known for being a sharp observer, and she rarely misread someone she had the chance to assess at first sight.

"Perhaps you're right," you conceded. "But wouldn't that make things even more complex for us, being coworkers?”

"Oof. The worst-case scenario would be the two of you not getting enough privacy, but the real fun always kicks in during the night anyway.”

With laughter bubbling up, you affectionately bumped your forehead against hers. "You're such a mischief-maker.”

“And proud of it!”

While you dearly valued all your friends equally, the connection you had with Mari was distinctively special, leaning more towards a sisterly bond. From a young age, she had always been exceptionally resilient and served as an inspiration to you, someone who remained impervious to those who attempted to pull her down. She was consistently there for you when you needed her, never once refusing to stand by your side. Despite her critique of your lack of bravery against your family, she never passed harsh judgment, offering unwavering support through your tribulations.

Even at this point, she expressed concern to the extent of guaranteeing your job security, fully cognizant of the potential reality of embarking on the return journey solo.

The commute to the restaurant was seamless and serene. You seized this opportunity to delve further into your books, inscribe reflections in your journal, and engage in thoughtful discourse about your future aspirations. Working at the Baratie, irrespective of how long it may last, was a promising stride towards your total independence.

Your parents never permitted you to secure a job on your own, always orchestrating strategic meetings to ingratiate you with society's elites and political figures. The roles you were assigned were fairly mundane, often restricted to tasks such as serving drinks or filing paperwork. The earnings you made were under your family's surveillance, and squirreling away bits of Berries for personal use proved to be a laborious endeavor.

For the first time, you had the opportunity to achieve something solely for yourself, free from their meddling or overbearing presence.

However, the instant Mari pointed out the emerging silhouette of the Baratie in the distance, an immediate wave of weakness swept over your knees and a queasy sensation began to churn in your stomach.

"Y/N, take it easy! It's not a big deal, all you need to do is smile and maintain a polite attitude. That's something you've been trained to do all your life.”

"No, this feels different. I've never been so invested in a job application before.”

Mari gently rubbed your back as you hunched over the table, shrouding your face between your arms. "What if I don't measure up?”

"Enough of that talk! You'll do great, believe me. Anyone who passes on you would be making a foolish mistake."

"Do you really think so?”

"Of course I do. Now, perk up. I know you're also anxious about Sanji, but he should actually serve as a positive motivator.”

You groaned. "Please, let's not go there.”

"Alright, listen carefully," she instructed in a stern voice, compelling you to raise your head and meet her eyes. "The fact that you hesitate whenever someone brings up his name signifies that you've encountered a man who could finally shake your world. As we both know, that's a rarity.”

You acknowledged with a nod.

"Like I said, I'm confident the feelings are mutual, so that's not something you need to fret over. Just go with the flow, take things as they come.”

You sank back into your chair, a look of resignation on your face. "I'm at a loss, Mari. Everything feels so surreal to me at this moment.”

It was unfathomable how a single night at the Baratie had the power to completely upend your life;  One minute, you were betrothed to a Marine you had no interest in, succumbing to your father's will. Then, as if struck by a lightning bolt, you broke free from your cocoon, asserting your rights and discarding your shackles in an astonishingly short span of time. 

And now, you were en route back to the Baratie in pursuit of a job, all while dealing with the unsettling emotions stirred up by a man you only met twice.

Your infatuation with Sanji was undeniable. Despite your tries to brush it off, from the very first moment your eyes locked with his, you were completely smitten.

It may have been childish, likely ridiculous and possibly doomed to burst like a bubble in the wind for all you knew. Yet, despite your trepidations and uncertainties, a persistent voice inside your head urged you to heed the call of your heart.

Mari's smile widened, and she tenderly stroked your hair in a soothing gesture. "Sweetie, everything will work out. Relax, take a deep breath, and give it your all.”

And naturally, your only recourse was to gather all the strength you possessed and press on.

Upon reaching the restaurant's entrance, your feet inexplicably froze. You observed various patrons walk up to the deck and step inside, all primed to relish the most delectable fare the East Blue had to offer. Although it was still quite early and not exactly dinnertime, the enticing aroma wafting from the restaurant—a tantalizing blend of grilled meat, fish, and roasted potatoes, capped off with the unmistakable sweet scent of freshly baked cake—indicated that the Baratie staff was always well-prepared.

You had anticipated the place to be less crowded, but securing a conversation with Zeff might prove to be more challenging than you had originally thought.

"Y/N, let's go. What are you doing standing here stiff as cod?”

"Mari, I don't think I can go through with this," you proclamed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, don't be silly. Of course, you can.”

She took your upper arm in her firm grasp, and you had no choice but to let her coax you out of your paralysis. Upon crossing the threshold, Mari instantly engaged in a dialogue with the fish-man. She pointed out a table that, to your repeated surprise, she appeared to have reserved for the forthcoming hours.

"One of these days, you'll have to let me in on your secret," you said to her.

"Pfff, I have no idea what you're talking about!”

You trailed after her animated figure through the dining room, which, although noticeably less crowded compared to the main area, was still bustling with activity. 

The table was cozy and beautifully set for two, already decked with some enticing bread. Unfortunately, your current stomach condition was far from ideal, making the thought of savoring any food quite uninviting. Nevertheless, your resolve to meet Sanji again, potentially as a part of their crew, was not shaken.

No sooner had you reached your seat than a familiar voice echoed from across the room. Its charm was instantly enthralling, causing you to whip your head around so quickly that you could almost feel your nerves stretching within.

There stood Sanji, attired in his crisp white chef's uniform, deep in conversation with a waiter near the kitchen entrance. The instant your eyes fell on his brilliant smile, the blond hair gently falling over his left eye, the defined contour of his jaw, and the rhythmic bobbing of his Adam's apple, it felt as if your chest was about to explode. You redirected your attention back to Mari, taking in a deep breath as you felt your cheeks glow with warmth.

"Mari, he's here.”

"Yeah, I can see that.”

“What should I do?”

"What are you waiting for? Go say hi!”

She was thoroughly enjoying herself, her giggles echoing at your evident agitation in Sanji's presence.

"He's on duty, I can't just go over there and distract him from his responsibilities.”

"Actually, nevermind. I think he's just spotted us.”

Your heart leaped so violently that you needed to swallow it back down. "What?! You're kidding, right?”

“I’m not joking. Don’t turn around, he’s heading our way.”

Shit shit shit shit.

What were you even supposed to say? Would he be glad to see you? How could you maintain a cool exterior when you were struggling to keep your rambling in check? What if-

“You’re back!”

Mari pursed her lips in an effort to contain a burgeoning laugh, a reaction that was completely justifiable given the circumstances.

You spun around, and the moment you locked eyes with him, your breath was completely taken away. Because, honestly, how could a man possibly be this attractive?

Regardless, you managed to summon a bright smile in response. "Sanji, hi!"

“Hey!”

The gentleness that radiated from his greeting was simply overwhelming. He didn't afford you a moment to digest the situation, as he promptly swept you into a hug that was gentle, slightly cautious, yet concurrently bold. You could catch his aroma interlaced with the scent of cigarette and the kitchen's fragrances. It was soothing, it was sweet, and it was unforeseen.

Sanji appeared genuinely thrilled to see you there, and you courageously lifted your hands to hesitantly reciprocate his embrace.

Despite the barrier of clothing, you could feel the hardness of his muscles against your palms.

"I was concerned about you. Are you okay?”

The realization that he had been thinking of you was flattering and heartwarming.

"Yes, I'm doing well.”

You appeared to lose track of your surroundings, and even Sanji seemed reluctant to draw away from you. The sound of Mari's throat-clearing brought you back to reality, urging you to create a distance from him as you regained your poise.

"Good to see you again," she addressed him.

Sanji responded with a graceful smile, reaching out for the hand she had extended for a formal shake. In a classic display of his gentlemanly manners, albeit a bit extravagant yet still charming to see, he opted to lightly kiss her knuckles instead. "The pleasure is mine, madam.”

"Oh my, where have you been hiding all this time?"

Seeing as she was looking straight at you with an almost unnoticeable wink, it was clear that she was asking that question on your behalf.

Sanji looekd bashful, eyeing you with an enchanting glint in his aquamarine eyes. It made you go weak in the knees, akin to a punch in the gut that left you breathless and light-headed.

Mari, quickly picking up on your temporary disorientation, immediately intervened to break the ice. She leaned casually against Sanji, resting her arm comfortably on his shoulder. "Could we possibly have a word with your boss? There's a matter of utmost importance that requires discussion.”

Right, you thought to yourself. Of course. Pull yourself together, Y/N!

Sanji's brows furrowed in confusion. "You want to speak with Zeff?”

Mari subtly nodded to nudge you, shifting her eyes to the side as a signal towards him.

"Oh, uhm... yes. Is he around?”

"When isn't the old man breathing down my neck?" He responded, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'll get him.”

"I appreciate it, thank you.”

His smile broadened considerably, his expression reverting back to his playful, flirtatious manner. "Anything for you, beautiful.”

Why did his compliments always make you blush as red as a ripe tomato? Your cheeks felt like they were set ablaze as you watched him walk away, and your heart pounded so violently that you were half-convinced it might cause the entire establishment to tumble violently into the sea.

Gosh. Even his walk was alluring, not to mention the way he swept his left bangs away from his face.

"Mari, I swear, you're going to be the end of me.”

"In what way?”

"Just look at me. I’m a mess.”

She scoffed at your words. "Enough of that. Cheer up, I assure you there is no chance he will reject you. And by 'he', I'm referring to the head chef.”

"How can you be so sure?”

"You'll see. Just trust me on this, okay?”

Somehow, her smile suggested that she had been keeping a substantial piece of information hidden all along. "Mari, what is it that you're not telling me?”

"Ease up.”

You looked at her in disbelief, observing her casual movements as she settled into a seat and picked up a piece of bread from the basket at the center. Sighing in resignation, you mirrored her actions, settling into the chair on the opposite side of the table, but not daring to touch even a single crumb.

Each passing second felt like an eternity, the uncertainty of what the day held looming ominously over you. Your father's harsh words persistently invaded your thoughts, echoing in your ears as if he were shouting them from right behind you. "You're a failure. You won't achieve anything on your own. You are nothing without me.”

There was more to you than the image he consistently tried to project. Yet, every time you attempted to place some faith in your abilities, he always managed to pull you back down. His influence was felt even in his absence.

Minutes ticked by, too many to keep track of. Just as you were on the verge of standing up and storming out of the main door, Zeff's gruff voice resounded into the dining room.

"Well, I'll be damned!”

For a moment, you feared he was critiquing your presence before you could even speak to him, but it didn't take long for you to realize that his words weren't meant for you at all.

"Zeff!”

Your eyes expanded in surprise as you watched Mari greeting the chef with the familiarity of an old friend. Her hands comfortably encased his larger one in a warm clasp. "Thank you for making time for us. I know how busy you can be.”

Wait, what?

"Do you remember my friend, Y/N?”

To say that you were utterly shocked would be an understatement. What sort of joke had you wandered into?

"Aye. I hope you're faring well now.”

Despite your attempts to regain your voice, you could only nod in response.

"She has something to discuss with you," Mari interjected. "But it would be best to have the conversation privately, just between the two of you.”

Zeff hummed in understanding. "I suppose I can take a minute off.”

Your blood turned icy as the pieces fell into place. The effortless way Mari had secured a table when others had to wait weeks in line, her overbearing confidence about your hiring request - it all suddenly made sense given how well-acquainted she was with the person in charge.

A part of you felt betrayed, as if you had been deceived right from the start.

Mari called out your name, noticing your complexion turning pale. This time, your reaction had nothing to do with your previous anxiety, which had now completely dissipated and been replaced by a newfound determination to uncover more.

"I apologize, but... you owe me some explanations.”

Zeff placed his hands on either side of his waist, chuckling with amusement. "You didn't mention it to her, ey?”

Mari grinned like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Oopsie.”

"Don't give me an 'oopsie' now, this isn't something to be taken lightly.”

"Listen, we will talk about it later, I promise. For now, just go with Zeff and do what you need to do.”

Now, in light of your discovery, your skepticism had greatly deepened. Would he even consider hiring you based on your own merits, or were things already prearranged, again?

Not wanting your journey to have been entirely futile, you eventually resolved to engage in conversation with the head chef.

"Fine. But don't think you're off the hook so easily.”

Mari remained as calm and confident as ever, not perceiving your warning as particularly grave.

Shifting her focus back to the mustachioed man, she offered an innocent smile. "She's more feisty than she looks.”

Zeff was a far cry from the serious former pirate you remembered. Whether this change was a result of Mari's visit or merely a buoyed spirit, you couldn't really tell.

"I'll keep that in mind," He said with a hearty chuckle. “Come on, this way.”

As he pivoted to guide you to a more secluded area, Mari offered a gentle shove on your back and flashed two thumbs up. Despite her encouragement, uncertainty lingered in you as you quietly followed the the man with the pegged leg towards the known environment of his office.

The chef settled comfortably into the chair behind his desk, courteously offering the one in front of him for you. As you sat down, you played with your fingers, unsure about how to initiate the dialogue.

Eventually, you posed the most straightforward question that came to mind.

"May I inquire about how you know my friend, sir?”

Zeff grasped his long white hat, setting it delicately on the table and revealing his tousled blond short hair. "Ah, that's quite a story that she might want to share with you herself.”

You arched an eyebrow with no intention of backing down, anticipating further explanation.

He sighed deeply, then confessed, "I knew her father, a long time ago.”

From your recollections, the man had met a tragic end in a maritime accident when Mari was but a child, the specifics of which she had never wished to divulge. By the time you first encountered her, he was already gone. She consistently spoke of him as a hero she aimed to emulate - a figure of strong morality and impressive fighting prowess.

It wasn’t hard for you to grasp the truth behind what she hadn't disclosed.

Delving deeper into it, you asked, "He was a pirate, wasn’t he?"

“….Aye.”

Considering her personality and her typical approach to handling things, it indeed provided a believable explanation.

And then, you could see a wave of melancholy wash over Zeff's features.

"She's a good kid," he continued. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree”

Regrettably, you couldn't entirely concur with that sentiment. "Sometimes it does, but that's a different story.”

Zeff watched you with intense scrutiny, observing as you lowered and shook your head in an attempt to dispel unwanted memories.

"Did you want to ask me something?”

Tightening your grip on your knees, you confirmed. “I do, sir.”

“Go on, then.”

It seemed that Mari hadn't actually revealed your intentions to the chef. Either that, or he was exceptionally good at concealing it.

"Firstly, I wanted to sincerely apologize again for the actions of my ex-fiancé during our last visit.”

"Nah, you shouldn't be the one apologizing," he emphasized.

"I accompanied him here, so it falls on me. I wanted to ask if there's any way I could make amends for the ruined food and damages.”

Zeff pondered your question, stroking the top of his big mustache. “What do you have in mind?”

You swallowed your nervousness, doing your best to articulate a suitable proposal without stumbling over your words.

"Is there any possibility that I could.... work here?”

Just as anticipated, a look of surprise slightly enlarged his eyes. "You want to work in my restaurant?”

"For as long as you deem appropriate. I don't have much to offer, but I could... maybe undertake cleaning duties? Wash the dishes? Things like that. I don’t require any compensation.”

When he persisted in his silence, you were consumed with apprehension that he might belittle you. What could a girl like you, primarily groomed to appear attractive and agreeable to affluent men, possibly contribute to a restaurant like his?

"I understand that I'm not exactly an ideal candidate. My cooking skills are quite basic, and I don't have any standout abilities that would make me a valuable addition to your team.”

He paid careful attention, noting how your eyes sparkled with unwavering conviction.

"But I'm a quick learner, and I'm really skilled at polishing things.”

"Why here? Why the Baratie?”

His interest was sincere, and it was highly probable that Zeff was trying to understand you and your motivations.

“If you want to work for me because of what that worthless excuse of a man did, don't bother.”

How could you possibly explain to him the depth of your interest, proving that it extended way beyond merely settling a debt?

As per Mari's advice, the most advantageous way to secure the job was to communicate your thoughts openly and honestly. Your brightest prospect of success stemmed from utilizing your innate strengths and maintaining your true self.

You had spent your entire life in pretense, masquerading as someone you never wanted to become.

"Sir, may I speak frankly?”

“Please do.”

And surely, Zeff was not a man to be readily influenced by insincere proclamations.

"I genuinely like it here. I spent an entire evening in your kitchen, and I was impressed by the passion and teamwork of your employees," you expressed. "From a young age, I was instructed to be assertive in all aspects of my life, all in the pursuit of finding a suitable husband who could provide political advantages for my parents.”

A large, unpleasant lump was developing in your throat, but you chose to disregard it.

“I had no voice in any decision, not once was I allowed to choose my own path. I was constantly reminded that I held no value on my own, and unfortunately, I started to believe it.”

The man’s gaze softened and his shoulders eased.

"For once, I want to choose for myself, to prove that I am more than what they led me to convince myself of.”

"Prove to whom, to them?”

“To myself.”

Suddenly, you felt a surge of tenacity that you never thought you could summon, realizing you had nothing left to lose.

"I'm not a chef, nor am I an experienced waitress. All I'm asking for is a chance, without anyone else dictate who I am.”

A silence descended between you two. Zeff's expression transformed to one of seriousness and focus, his eyes narrowing. The fact that he didn't dismiss you outright and was prepared to pause his work to listen was a hopeful sign. However, the impact of your words was still uncertain.

Eventually, he reacted with a pleased "hah!", evidently valuing your honest admission.

“Just so we’re clear,” he started, “Working here won’t be easy.”

"I'm not expecting it to be, sir.”

"We rise early, and the kitchen needs to be operational at all times.”

“Naturally.”

You were not one to oversleep or shirk your responsibilities anyway.

"It can turn into a real mess, with many dishes and pans to scrub.”

"I'm accustomed to putting a lot of elbow grease.”

The more you answered, the more satisfied he seemed. He sported a friendly and gentle smile, complemented by his long, twisted mustache.

"If you work, you get paid. You don’t owe me anything. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

His intentions were unequivocally transparent, leaving no margin for error. However, despite the apparent success of your request, your mind was struggling to process it.

“And just another thing,” he uttered. “Whatever is happening between you and the Little Eggplant, it needs to stay out of my kitchen.”

Though he didn't seem noticeably irritated, the mere mention of Sanji was enough to instantly set you on edge.

"Oh... no, I don't.... we... I mean, there’s nothing going on.”

With a subtle smirk, Zeff let out a muffled chuckle before picking up his hat and resettling it on his head. "You start tomorrow morning, be ready at dawn. ”

You stared at him, mouth wide open in sheer incredulity, letting his words sink in. “Wait, that’s it?”

"I thought you wanted the job.”

"I do! It's just... I wasn't expecting you would accept.”

Zeff took a deep breath and released it with a prolonged exhalation. “You are asking me, and I don’t see any compelling reason to decline.”

"You… you’re not doing this because of Mari, right?”

“If you���re under the impression that I would hire you based on someone else’s endorsement, you are mistaken.”

You were at a loss for words to express your feelings. Relief, joy, and excitement all coursed through you simultaneously.

"I see something in you. They may have led you to believe otherwise, but whoever fed you that crap was blinded by their ignorance.”

"I... thank you, sir.”

Your parents overlooked your value despite your numerous attempts to prove yourself. How could he recognize it so effortlessly, just through that brief narrative of your life?

From everything Sanji had shared with you about the head chef, you had anticipated him to be somewhat difficult to engage with. In reality, he surpassed all your expectations, proving to be a man of depth and remarkable insight.

As Zeff rose, steadying himself on his foot and peg, you followed his lead. The walk to the dining room had an unreal quality, as if you were moving within a bubble, wrestling with something that verged on being a product of your imagination.

Yet, it was as real as it could possibly be.

Zeff offered one last piece of advice, pledging to formally introduce you to the staff by day's end. Mari, in response, immediately wrapped her arms around you, celebrating your success and assuring her old friend that he would never regret bringing you on board.

As the chef left to return to his responsibilities, Sanji reappeared, throwing inquisitive glances your way as Mari energetically shook your hands, her fingers entwined with yours. Part of you pondered if it would be best to keep it a secret until the last possible moment, but you could sense his curiosity gnawing at him.

Considering the fact that you had unexpectedly returned only to request a meeting with his boss, you couldn't really find fault with it.

With a single nod of her head, your friend granted you the honor of announcing the news, stepping aside and moving back to the table. You felt unready and unsure of his potential reaction. The thought of him being disappointed, possibly even losing interest in you, was creating a distressing knot in your stomach.

Regardless, there was no turning back for you, and you were committed to see it through to the end.

"Well, you see, starting from tomorrow, we're going to be coworkers.”

There it was, you had dropped the bombshell right in front of him. Your breath hitched again as you waited, watching his facial expression transform from confusion, to surprise, and then to quiet contemplation. After that initial moment of astonishment, his bright and loving smile re-emerged.

"Now I have an additional reason to fulfill my duty. Welcome to the Baratie, Y/N.”

Needless to say, the urge to hug him once more was irresistible. Your arms encircled his neck as you rose on your toes. It was a spontaneous act, carried out without much deliberation, fueled by your escalating emotions.

And your heart skipped a beat when he returned the gesture, tenderly supporting your back and soothingly caressing it with his hands.

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