librarymaster-blog

[sencrose]

— ALL (SIX) EYES ON ME

pairing: gojo satoru x f!idol!reader

tags: slight dubcon/yandere, idol AU, no curses AU, clothed/costume/mirror sex, body worship, sweat kink, armpit licking lol, praise, cunnilingus, pet names (princess, sweetheart, sweetie), satoru's just a little weird in this sorry

wc: 9.2k (ugHGUHGUHGUGHUGHGUHGU)

summary: Everything's lining up. The tickets to your first solo show sold out weeks in advance. Small problem: there's only one person in the audience.

a/n: i don't...? i don't know man. this is extremely self-indulgent, self-ship coded at times, and technically a reeeeally late birthday gift to myself lmfao. makes a lot of references to jp idol culture (once again). if you have any questions my ask box’s open! dividers by @/adornedwithlight. + playlist + ao3 link here.

It’s taken weeks of preparation but it’s finally going to pay off. Countless hours of rehearsal, dancing in dusty studios until your body’s on the verge of dropping, singing until your voice is almost hoarse, but not quite. You know your limits, and you’re not willing to break them before something so crucial.

On the dawn of your birthday, your obligatory solo live has been the only thing on your mind. It can’t be anything short of perfect, especially after the tickets sold out in record speed. The stakes have never been higher. At least when you sell out a venue as a group, you can rely on each other. There’s no one to catch you if you fall here, physically or otherwise.

The green room feels empty without your fellow members to back you up. It’s a bit unnerving, having all this space to yourself, the mirrors reflecting back to you, and just you.

The silence of the room gets to you, so the obvious course of action is to play your set list in the background. You know all of the songs well, singing along gently as you unpack your luggage. Ruffles and frills bounce out as soon as you unzip it. No matter how tightly you attempt to pack your outfit, it seems like it has a mind of its own.

Putting it on was an ordeal in the beginning. Too many straps, too much fabric, too much volume to get lost in. But it’s become a part of you in the past couple of years, a second skin of sorts.

The top, a cropped blouse with a sweetheart neckline, always goes on first before you do your makeup. That was a lesson you learned on your second live when you accidentally stained the collar with foundation. You tug on the zipper, which always gets caught in between a bulky seam, tugging a bit harder when you get there. From there you bring it over your head and awkwardly shift until it’s finally on. It fits snugly once you zip up the side seam, your curves emphasized by the ribbon lacing detail on the side.

Makeup is simple enough, just a bit more extra than your usual day to day. More exaggerated eyeliner, an extra pigmented blush, dramatic eyelashes you still haven’t gotten used to (seriously, it’s distracting when they’re constantly in your periphery). To finish it off, some glitter around the eyes so it sparkles extra bright like the stars in the sky under the stage lights.

Once you’re done, it’s time for the skirt, and it’s always heavier than you think it is. It’s a given though – several layers of circles coming together at the waist, and dozens of yards of ruffled lace hemming each edge. It’d be a scientific anomaly if it weighed any less.

You shimmy your way into the skirt, one leg at a time until the elastic cinches at your waist. With it secured, you jump a couple of times – half to test its stability, and half to just watch the hypnotic bounce of fabric. At this point, it’s customary to do a little spin around in the mirror, lose yourself in the swish of fabric moving like the waves of the ocean, encapsulated around your waist. It’s your favorite part, just watching everything come together, feeling like a real star – even if the venue barely fits a hundred attendees.

All that’s left are finishing details. A ruffly garter that hugs your thigh, soft satin gloves on your hands, and a tiara instead of your usual matching set of bows on your head. Last but not least, a pair of platform boots. It’s still something you’re adjusting too, the weight of them dulling your dance moves just slightly.

When you check your phone, it’s just a few minutes before call time. You neatly pack your casual clothes in your luggage and roll it off to the side before exiting the room. Everything’s so different when you walk the hall alone. It’s a bit lonelier, a bit longer – plain white walls converging to a point you know all too well. You know you’re getting close when the instrumental playing through the speaker gets louder, too loud to ignore, a sign for you to put in your in-ear monitor.

Then you make it there, on the back edge of the stage like you’ve done so many times before, though alone this time. Anxiety beats like a drum in your chest, and you can’t bring yourself to peek through the stage curtains. Curiosity killed the cat after all.

The background instrumental starts, a soft bump of bass rumbles the floor, rattles your body. It’s your cue to go. With the mic held close to your chest, you step out to the stage, bright stage lights blinding you momentarily.

“Good evening everyone! Thanks for coming out tonight, it really-”

Your voice involuntarily stops in its tracks when your vision comes back to you.

The crowd is empty.

Well, almost empty.

A single fan stands tall right in front of you, familiar azure eyes staring a hole into your soul.

You remember him – Satoru. Couldn’t forget him if you tried. His reputation precedes him. If you had to choose a fan who’s dedication bordered on deification, it would be him.

Your fellow members even had a silly nickname for him: Mr. Monopoly. For the frivolous amounts of money he spent on your merch, and how he monopolized your time at every meet and greet by buying out a dozen cheki tickets the moment a performance ended. In fact, there have been a handful of events where he’s the only fan you’ve spoken to.

Despite that, it’s not like he’s creepy or anything. In fact, he’s incredibly normal – from what you can see anyway. Never crosses the line, never goes beyond the casual small talk about performance quality, curious questions about the upcoming release. But something about how much time and money he spends attending your shows keeps you on edge. Someone who spends so much of his life tucked away in dingy live houses can’t exactly be a paragon of society.

But this can’t be right, right? Your heartbeat’s erratic, pounding so hard against your ribcage you’re scared it’s going to crack. Didn’t the venue sell out weeks ago? You remember the congratulations text your manager sent you, the way you bounced off the walls of your bedroom in excitement at the news. That wasn’t fake. And what reason would he have to lie?

Was this some kind of online troll campaign? There’s always a possibility, but you’re quick to write it off. You’ve never been the topic of any notable online conversation, positive or negative. For once, your habitual ego surfing escapades pay off.

The wave of Satoru’s dazzling penlights snaps you out of your mental spiral, albeit still shaken.

“Um, it really means the world to me.” The words come out shakier than before.

You’re a professional.

It’s the only thought repeating in your mind, a hamster running on a wheel with no end in sight. You hope it rings true.

“Anyways, since it’s my birthday,” you continue, your voice still unstable. Your eyes wander around the room only to confirm nobody else is here, save for your manager, who’s also playing the role of bartender for tonight. The reality of the situation sinks in a little more, your heart dull and heavy.

“I thought we could get started with a solo cover of one of my favorite singles.” There was originally more you wanted to say, but your words elude you. Everything comes out cold, monotonous. “I really hope you enjoy it. Thank you.”

Satoru cheers and you swear it nearly bursts your ear drums, roaring like a tiger’s battle cry.

The instrumental starts, a hum of stringed chords hits your ears and you break into your starting pose, a smile beaming on your face despite the hurt in your heart. You know this dance like the back of your hand, but it feels uneasy performing in an unfamiliar setting. Lost somewhere in the in between; not quite alone in a dance studio, but not performing to the crowds you’ve grown used to.

There isn’t the usual weight to your moves, slightly deflated like a balloon that’s been left out for hours. The irony isn’t lost on you, singing about staying strong in the face of adversity under the soul crushing weight of disappointment.

You can hear him inhale, suck in dramatically like a child preparing to hold their breath underwater, only to let out a barrage of chants. The usual calls, about you being his favorite, about how cute you are. If this was backed by an army of fans, it would inspire you. But for the moment, it’s a bitter reminder of what could have been. It’s hard. You don’t want to be ungrateful, but you were expecting a bit more for your big day.

It happens before you realize it, glassy eyes forming tears when you blink.

The slight moistening of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Satoru, and his calls start to change. He’s improvising, his words customized solely for you. Clapping in triplets, shouting lines of encouragement at the pause between lyrics. From woo woos to ‘you can do it!’, from oo-ah oo-ahs to “I’ll cheer you on”, from hey heys to “my oshi’s the best!”

It’s hard to not feel touched by his efforts. You’ve grown as a performer, him as a supporter, alongside each other. It warms your heart a little. You’re caught by surprise when you hear yourself giggle in between the lyrics. To be acknowledged is its own reward. What originated from sadness morphs into something else entirely. A fire in your heart, rekindled. Even if no one else showed up, Satoru would always be here. And maybe that’s enough for you.

It’s common practice to choose a spot in the audience to look at, not making direct eye contact with anyone. But nobody tells you what to do when you’re performing to an audience of one. How do you stop yourself from being pulled into Satoru’s form, so bright and radiant he lights up the room?

The song finishes with a flourish, and you hold your pose for a moment just as you’ve practiced. You finally recollect yourself, chest visibly rising and falling from exhaustion.

“S-sorry about that.” You take a moment to wipe your tears as best as you can with the back of your arm. It’s hard not to mess up your makeup, and you can only hope there aren’t trails of black falling down your cheeks. You sniffle, careful not to do so in the mic, but you’re sure he hears considering he’s only a few feet away. “As long as someone’s here, the show will go on. So let’s have lots of fun tonight!”

He cheers at that, lifting his penlight and spinning it around in his hand. A single star in the endless night sky.

“The next song is something I haven’t performed in a long time.” You walk around the stage, your eyes never leaving Satoru’s gaze. “I don’t think I’ve performed it since debuting.”

Satoru gasps upon hearing, humming like a bee from excitement.

“So if you know it, I would love to hear you sing along.” You set your arms down to your side, turning around to face the back of the stage. This song was from the beginning of your journey, a bit more experimental and leaning on the side of cyber pop. Buzzy synths and blocky eight bit pads echo throughout the room, and it rumbles throughout your body. Something about it is more intense than you’re used to, the way the instrumental has no choice but to bounce off the walls and back into you. How it shakes your very being.

It’s easy to get lost in the stage backdrop, an endless sea of black. But when you turn and see your lone fan, lightstick in hand, it’s as if you’re a lost ship guided home by the draw of a lighthouse’s lamp.

Even if you haven’t performed this routine on stage in a year, it feels right. Like this was how it was always meant to be performed. Singular rhythmic claps, Satoru’s roaring voice piercing through your in-ear monitor.

As soon as the first words leave your lips, it brings you back. Back to a time when you and your group were still starting off. To the nearly empty rooms on a Friday night, to the countless hours you’d spend standing on busy streets handing out flyers to promote your show. The first time you ran into Satoru.

Late afternoon in Akihabara. Spring had just come in full bloom, bringing along a litter of cherry blossom petals on the pavement and the accompanying hordes of tourists. It had been a long day, then again, most of those days were long days. The heat always found a way to get to you when you’re standing in your costumes for hours at a time, competing alongside all the other dressed up girls promoting their respective maid cafes and idol groups. Then there were the faceless crowds ignoring you every time you gestured for them to take a flyer, to come to your show. It was the pinnacle of demoralizing work, really.

Satoru was just a faceless being until he stopped in his tracks, the first and only person to talk to you that day.

“Is this tonight?” he asked, his glasses slightly pointed downward just enough so you could see that magnificent blue of his eyes.

“Y-yes. It’d be great if you could come cheer us on,” you responded with a smile.

He took the flyer without a word, folding and putting it in his pocket and you assumed that was that. You didn’t actually expect to see him again. But you did.

When he came to your performance, you didn’t pay him much mind, and you assumed he did the same with you. He stuck out like a sore thumb, choosing to stand towards the back of the room and avoiding the handful of fans at the front, arms crossed as if he didn’t want to be there despite paying for the (admittedly hefty) entry fee.

Yet at the end of the show, he lined up at the counter. Bought only a single cheki ticket to meet with you, to tell you he enjoyed the show, that he looked forward to the next one. You didn’t believe him, but sure enough he showed up at the next concert. And then a single ticket turned into two. And then three, four, until it snowballed into the dozen ticket minimum you recognize him by today.

And now he’s here. Cheering you on so enthusiastically you can practically feel the passion oozing off of him. Oh, how times change.

The song’s over before you know it. It takes you a moment to return from your trip down memory lane.

“Wow, what a throwback, huh?” you sigh dreamily, reminiscing on the past, on how far you’ve come. “I think it’s actually my first time hearing anyone mix to it.”

Gratitude rises and swells in your heart like a river during a rainstorm, nowhere to escape but your lips. It overrides any rational thought in your brain. The words spill faster than you can catch them. “Thank you for being here, Satoru.” With that, you break the number one taboo of addressing anyone directly in the audience.

“Anything for you,” he says softly, smiling and tilting his head just slightly. He doesn’t need to shout or project his voice any further, he knows you hear him. Maybe it’s just the lighting, or your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear the whites of his teeth glimmer.

Heat darts to your cheeks, feverish, and it’s not from the oppressive stage lighting. Your next words do nothing to help.

“This next song,” you pause, “is a love song. Kind of.”

Satoru responds, a scandalous and elongated, “Ooooh?”

Your rehearsed speech falls apart with the reaction Satoru gives you. It wasn’t this awkward when you were practicing it in the mirror, but this feels too direct of a conversation. Expectant, adoring eyes look up at you, waiting with bated breath.

“I, I mean it’s more about following your dreams,” you continue, flustered and taking long, aimless steps across the stage before turning back to face him, “there’s love in that, right?”

“There is!” he says, waving his penlight in the air side to side.

“I’m glad you agree. Well, if you know this song, I would love to hear you sing along.”

That goes without saying. As soon as the instrumental blasts through the speakers, Satoru’s chanting his heart out. A hope intertwined that you’ll listen to him, hear him for who he really is.

Satoru’s energy shows no sign of declining, his voice still as thunderous as when the show started. Your voice guides him along, an adventure navigating between chiptune keys and artificial strings, until it reaches the bridge. A flurry of sugary sweet synths buzz, racing to a climax together. Satoru inhales to prepare for the speech to come.

“I have something to confess!”

This is far from the first time you’ve heard this speech, it’s a staple of the culture after all. But this is the first time it’s been so clear. No one else to muddle his voice. Satoru, and just Satoru.

When he’s the only one in the audience, you decide to indulge him. Bending down on one knee, cupping your hand behind your ear.

“Tell me, tell me!” you exclaim back, voice as sweet as the melody playing through the speakers.

“My oshi really is the cutest!”

It’s a back and forth, and it feels much more like a conversation than it normally would. The words bounce between the two of you so naturally, like a tennis ball during a rally.

“Really really?” You play into it, faux shock weaved into your tone.

“I like her, I like her, I really do love her!” Satoru chants it rhythmically, trance-like. Each syllable is aimed crystal clear, an arrow with startling accuracy shooting you in the heart.

“Do you, do you?”

“I’ve found my princess!”

It’s hard to pose, but you manage to give him a little curtsy before pointing at your tiara. With Satoru chanting his affections to you, you truly feel like royalty tonight.

“Did you, did you?” you respond, tilting your head with a smile.

“She’s my reason for living!”

No matter how many times you tell yourself that the two of you are practically relaying a script, you think there’s a morsel of truth behind his words.

“Is she, is she?”

“Let’s walk through this life together!”

It shouldn’t have such an effect on you, you’ve heard it plenty of times before. From other concerts, from larger crowds. But it does. It has you smiling so wide your cheeks start to ache.

That’s new. When was the last time that happened?

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

Maybe you’re crossing a line when you extend your arm further, his lips so close to the mic you can feel his breath on it. Not that Satoru seems to mind. If anything, his eyes sparkle a bit brighter, his smile eclipsing any doubt in your head.

“I love you!” Satoru yells so loud the volume of it makes you wince. For just a fraction of a second, your smile drops before you place it back on, a well-worn mask. If you didn’t know any better, you would assume this was a real confession.

“L-O-V-E Y-O-U!” It's just how the call ends, but it feels like he’s spelling it out for you with intention in every letter, just in case you didn’t hear him the first time.

With the end of the chant you’re thrown into the last chorus, getting off the floor and resuming your choreo. Satoru resumes to the usual chants, as if he wasn’t yelling something reminiscent of a love confession.

A kick and a pose and that marks the end of the third song of the night. Something about Satoru’s cheers are electrifying, static shooting through every fiber of your being. It takes you a moment to catch your breath before taking a bow.

“And now for the last song of the night,” you pant into the mic, breathless.

“Ehhhh?” A long, high-pitched whine, as is customary when the night’s almost over.

“I know, I know. It’s always sad when things come to an end, isn’t it?”

“But let’s make the most of this together! I want to hear you put everything you got on the line!” you scream into the mic, as if there’s more than a single pair of ears to take in your words.

Satoru cheers wildly at that.

“And I hope I’ll see you at the next event!” you exclaim, waving your spare hand before getting into position.

A guitar riff, followed by a soft bass announces your last song of the night. The notes dance on your skin and you welcome the sensation, taking them in and returning them ten fold. The ruffles of your skirt brush against your thighs as you roll your hips, entrancing like a bird’s mating ritual.

You thought you’d never get sick of the view of a crowd, but there’s a new contender rising in the ranks of your favor. As you circle around the stage in preparation for the chorus, Satoru also seems to be planning something. As soon as the words leave your mouth, Satoru mirrors your dance, penlights shining brightly in hand. Every jump, every sway of your hips, he meets you there.

You’re supposed to be the star of the show but he’s caught your attention, outshining your glow.

As the last chorus makes its round, the words escape a bit more desperate, dancing the line between singing and wailing. Despite everything that’s happened, you’re having fun, maybe some of the most fun you’ve had performing thus far. You’re not sure you want this to end.

With his hands armed with penlights between his fingers, he swipes swiftly across the air, as if he’s cutting the space in between. One, two, three large circles in quick succession before kneeling on the floor, pose akin to an over-dramatic archer. From there on, every spot he hits in the air is calculated, as if he’s aiming for a bullseye on a dartboard before his hands move down to his side. Then, a pulse of motion before he aggressively spins his lightsticks in the air. Swinging low, left, right, left, bringing up his lightsticks past his head, before repeating the motion all over again.

It’s silly. He’s silly. It’s another side of him you haven’t seen before, despite him being such a dedicated fan. Maybe the crowd was just a distraction from seeing Satoru for who he really was.

Maybe it’s a good thing they aren’t here.

That breaks your train of thought. You know you shouldn’t be thinking of him like this – it’s unprofessional. This doesn’t stop the thought from lurking in the background, from reappearing on the surface when you meet his gaze, see the way he smiles for you and–presumably–only you.

As the instrumental fades, you shoot your hands up, gently bringing them down with a graceful flair, pausing when they reach hip height.

Even after a performance of his own, Satoru still cheers with the same momentum from the start of the night. His energy truly knows no bounds.

“Thanks again for coming, I really appreciate it,” you breathe into the mic heavily, your exhaustion now catching up to your body.

“I really had so much fun performing today. I hope we’ll see each other at the next live!” You thank your single fan of the night with a 90 degree bow, before running to gather supplies for the meet and greet session. And knowing Satoru, he will be participating.

As soon as you finish speaking, Satoru’s quick to walk to the counter, as if there’s a tangible chance anything is going to sell out. An exchange of words and bills and he comes bearing a handful of tickets – his usual.

Before you’ve even finished setting things up, Satoru walks up to the stage. There’s no need to wait to be called up when you’re the only performer here, him the only fan.

He waits patiently as you grab a small table and a pack of paint markers hiding behind one end of the stage.

“Thanks for coming, Satoru!” You reach out to grab his hand.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He meets your gaze.

“How did you enjoy the show?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“I guess not,” you chuckle, “I’m glad you had fun.”

You gesture your manager to come over, and he speedwalks over with an instax camera in hand.

“I know it’s your birthday, but could I ask for something?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Could I…” he trails off, a contemplative look painting his face as he chooses his next words.

“Yeah?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and gesturing for him to continue.

“Could I put my arm around you for this one?” he asks, with newfound confidence.

Your ears perk up at the question. “You’re not gonna post it anywhere, right?”

“‘Course not. You have my word.” He pats his hand against his chest and gives you a reassuring smile.

You give a contemplative glance to your manager holding the polaroid camera, who gives you a shrug.

“Okay, but only this once.”

Then you break a second taboo, letting a fan touch you past a fleeting handshake, the connecting fingers of a heart.

His arm wraps around your waist and you do the same to him. It’s no surprise he’s warm, which makes sense considering he’s been dancing around just as much as you, if not more. However, it is a surprise you’ve never noticed how nice he smells. Then again, live venues aren’t exactly conducive to scents that aren’t sweat and dust.

With a bright flash, the polaroid hums as it prints out the photo. Satoru doesn’t linger, even though you think he would. And when his touch leaves, you almost wish you savored his warmth a bit longer before shaking the thought out of your head.

Every other pose he asks for is within the realm of normal. Several different hand heart variants, cat paws, the occasional silly pose thrown into the mix. It almost feels like a couples shoot. Almost. Pose after pose, flash after flash and you’re left with a handful of polaroids to sign, laid out in a messy array on the table.

“What was your favorite part?” you ask.

At this point, you think you have him figured out. Though Satoru has been to several shows, his answer usually boils down to a few options when you sift through all the embellishments and wordy rambles. Your performance, your outfit, your energy, and –

“Having you all to myself.”

That catches you by surprise.

For the first time since the beginning of the night, your composure cracks. It takes a moment for your mind to catch up with the situation and attempt to put a smile on your face again, but your voice comes out cold and distant.

“Huh?”

“How’d you like your birthday gift?” he asks, ignoring your confusion.

“Gift? Like performing?” you ask back, shaking the paint pen to get ready to sign the polaroid. You look back at him with a wavering smile. “It was fun.”

“No, no, not that.” Satoru waves his hand in front of his face and shakes his head. “Your first sold out live! I bought all the tickets.”

Your hand seizes in the middle of writing, a growing blob of paint forming where the pen is pushed down against the film. There’s no air to be found in your lungs, as if the entirety of the concert hits you all at once. When you find it in yourself to look at him, he stands there with his usual innocent smile painted on his face, patiently awaiting your reaction.

You clear your throat before finally speaking. “Really?”

“Really,” he says with ease, almost prideful at the fact.

The idea of him spending thousands on selling out a show seems implausible, but then again it is Satoru. If anyone were to do something so ridiculous, it would be him.

A nervous laugh escapes you, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts. It feels like you’re on a tightrope, a delicate balance to toe between professionalism and fanservice.

“You like me that much?” It’s a true, honest question. You finally lift the pen off the film, frowning slightly at the pool of paint on the picture.

“Of course!”

You don’t know how to respond to that. There’s no training guide on handling situations like this, but there really should be. You choose your next words carefully, falling back on something safe, distant.

“Thank you for your continued support.” The words come out hesitantly, robotic, like you’re reading off a script.

“Anything for you,” he responds warmly, seemingly unaffected by your tone.

If you heard this at one of your usual concerts, you wouldn’t have paid it much mind – just one of those casual comments a fan says to their oshi. Now, his words have some weight. It’s not something you feel comfortable holding.

But a twinge of guilt hits your heart when you look at him, when he still smiles with admiration on his face, like you’re the one who hung the moon and stars in the night sky. Maybe you’re being too harsh on him; different fans show their support in different ways after all. Hell, you’re sure some of your members would kill to have a fan like him.

Regardless, it’s still hard to shake off the uneasiness that plagues your chest, even harder to come back from a conversation like this.

“Have you considered doing more solo activities?” Satoru asks, ignorant of the thoughts that plague you.

“Eh?” You jerk at his words, not expecting him to carry the conversation. “Not really,” you respond while drawing an assortment of random doodles across the polaroids. The usual decorations, hearts, sparkles, confetti, what have you.

“You really should, I’d be the first to cheer you on!” he says with a smile that puts the sun to shame and that twinge of guilt hits you again. Here he is supporting you in earnest, and you’re judging him for it.

“Would you now?” you attempt to joke but it comes out a bit shaky.

“Of course!” he exclaims, your unease going seemingly unnoticed.

“Well, if I ever do, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you there,” you respond with a soft smile before moving on to labeling the pictures with the date and your signature.

“You promise?” He holds out his pinky, waiting for you to reciprocate. You take a moment to ponder before raising your hand to meet his.

“Promise,” you reply, intertwining your pinkies together. The visible glee on Satoru’s face is a sight to behold. Part of you wonders if he only shows this side of himself to you.

“Oh, I think they should be dry, but still be careful with them.”

“I know, I know, wouldn’t let anything bad happen to them.” He holds them gingerly as you hand them off to him, as if he’s holding a newborn puppy in the palm of his hands.

“Have a nice night, Satoru.”

“You too. See you soon!”

----

The activities of the night catch up to your body when you make it to the green room, plopping on to the vanity chair. If you landed any harder or the chair was any cheaper, you’re sure it would’ve broken from the way you tossed your dead weight onto it. You spin around aimlessly on the chair, staring up at the ceiling as a form of decompression. All you need is a moment to recollect yourself after the emotional roller coaster of a night.

A knock on the door and your back immediately straightens, posture prim and proper as can be. Your manager opens the door, barely peeking through to greet you.

“Hey, good job tonight,” he comments, opening the door fully once he sees you’re just lounging around.

“Thanks.”

“I’ve finished closing up, so just turn off the lights when you head out.”

“Yup, got it.” You give your manager a thumbs up and a smile, and he takes it as a sign to leave.

Before he has the chance to close the door shut, you grab his attention, a question burning in your head. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” he responds, opening the door again so you can see him face to face.

“Was the concert really sold out?”

“Yep,” he states matter-of-factly, “you should get your cut by next week.”

The pay is the last thing on your mind.

“Okay.” It comes out hushed, strained.

“Anything else?” he asks, tapping his fingers against the door.

You ponder it for a moment, but you’re not sure you want to bring up your concerns to him, if it’s worth the fight. What are you supposed to say? The walking piggy bank that sponsored the entirety of your performance makes you just a tad uneasy? But then again, he’s probably just a nice and honest fan. He might have an interesting way of showing it, but at the end of the day he’s proved himself to be harmless. You don’t see a solution that doesn’t lead to an extreme, and you don’t necessarily want to punish him for his support. So you bite your tongue, letting your thoughts stir and simmer.

“No,” you sigh, resigned.

“Alright, then,” he says, none the wiser, “have a nice night.”

“You too.”

You plop back onto your seat with a groan. The desire to relax for another moment outweighs the desire to get out of your costume. It’s easy to find yourself lost in thought, daydreaming about being back home, taking a nice hot bath to relax your sore muscles.

There’s another knock on your door.

“I’ll be out in a few, just give me a moment-”

The door opens with a slow creak.

It’s not your manager.

“Oh, Satoru!” you say, shock coursing through your body as you jump up from your seat, “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to see you off,” he says, as if it’s normal for him to be back here. Didn’t your manager close up? He would’ve seen him and kicked him out, right?

“I thought we said our goodbyes earlier,” you respond, voice an octave higher than usual. It only comes out when you’re trying your best to defuse a situation. “You know, at the meet and greet portion?”

“I know, I know,” he says, waving his hands as if he’s shooing away your comment, casually walking towards you.

You don’t think he actually knows.

“But we had such a good time, didn’t we?” he asks, taking another step forward to close the distance between the two of you.

“I mean, yeah! But there’s a-”

“What if we let it continue?” he interrupts, “your birthday isn’t over yet.” He glances over at the clock and your eyes follow. 10:12pm. The second hand moves slower than you’d like.

“It’s your special day isn’t it? Let me treat you.” His body presses closer against yours. The pressure makes you more aware of his height against yours, of the muscular build you feel through the thin layer of fabric.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, not this close. “I’m not sure if this is a line I should cross, Satoru,” you mumble, an attempt to convince yourself to abide by the silent oath all idols take when they first get on stage and declare themselves entertainers – be as innocent as possible. No male friends, no dating, and certainly no hookups.

“You don’t have to cross anything,” he says, voice low. His face is dangerously close to yours, and your heart skips a beat when you realize just how beautiful he is – the tufts of white carefully brushing across his forehead, the glint of sweat that makes his skin glisten, and those hypnotic crystalline eyes of his, glimmering with devotion just for you. “I’ll cross it for you.”

Without any warning, his lips press against yours, and it’s nothing like what you expected. Nothing like the crazed, enthused fan you’re used to seeing. It’s gentle, sweet. The taste of melon soda sits on his lips.

The moment your lips part to say something, Satoru takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in, teasingly pressing against yours. His hand grabs yours before you can react, fingers intertwining until it represents something romantic. You feel your defenses slipping as his other hand grabs your chin to deepen the kiss.

You hate to admit it, but he’s a good kisser. Somehow, it comes so naturally with him. A dance shared between the two of you, except there’s no stage platform keeping you apart. He’s right here, not an inch of space to be found between your bodies. Everything about him overwhelms you – his gentle hand holding yours, the softness of his lips, the way he nearly whimpers with every kiss, needy and desperate for more.

Satoru’s knee pushes against your thighs, pressing to split your legs apart until your crotch rests on top of him.

“Let me spoil you,” he pleads, out of breath.

It’s far from the end, it’s just the beginning. A love letter to each part of your body, delicately inked with the utmost care.

His lips bite the tip of your right glove, gripping the fabric before pulling off to reveal your bare hands. The sight sends heat rushing to your core, seeing him hold the glove between his lips before spitting it out. When you cover your face with your gloved hand from embarrassment, Satoru meets you there. A soft nip at your finger before peeling the other glove off your hand, eyes looking up at you with something dark, something low. You don’t recognize it.

Once your hands are bare, he holds them gently. No excited death grip like the first time he held them at a meet and greet.

“I’m so lucky I get to hold these cute hands of yours.” Open mouth kisses from the tip of your fingers, slowly making their way up your forearm, your bicep, until he meets your shoulder.

“W-wait, Satoru, I’m still kinda sweaty, let me-”

“You think that bothers me? I love every part of you.” He drags his tongue up your forearm again before kissing and sucking on the skin. “And I really do mean every part.”

Over the months, you’ve learned that Satoru is many things, but he’s not a liar. The way he explores every inch of your body is filled with admiration. You feel it in the way he leaves messy kisses on your skin, nearly moaning when he licks the sweat off you.

When he brings your arms up, you pick up on what he’s going to do next and rush to get your words out. “W-wait, S-Satoru it’s kinda gross, isn’t it?”

“Not to me,” he says it like it’s an undeniable truth, “but if you think so, then I’ll just have to clean you up, right?” As if to prove his point, Satoru flicks his tongue before dragging a stripe against the curve of your underarm. From there he licks the droplets off of you like a man at the brink of dehydration who just found an oasis. He’s messy and wet, leaving nothing behind but his spit as he licks up anything and everything perspired from your body. “Tastes sweet to me.”

With that he goes in for the other side, once again lapping at your sweat like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. Even when he’s licked up all there is to be savored, he’s not finished until he leaves sloppy kisses, sucking and nipping at the skin. He bites a little too hard for your liking, earning a yelp from you.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself, you taste so good,” Satoru’s quick to apologize, looking at you with a cheeky smile, “wanted to have a bite to myself.”

And then he’s squatting onto his knees, hands delicately massaging your thigh as he looks up at you to ask, “could you lift your skirt for me, sweetheart?”

You comply, bringing up the hem of your skirt. Since you haven’t started your undressing process of the night, you’re still wearing your safety shorts. Satoru doesn’t seem to mind, basking at the sight of your upper thighs he’s only caught glimpses of when you jump on stage.

“You don’t need this with me.” He pulls on the hem of your shorts, swiftly bringing them down to your ankles, as if he’s unwrapping a present with a pull of a bow.

You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that you can’t see him under your skirt, getting lost in the layers of crinoline and ruffles that blend in with his hair. It adds a layer of anticipation, being unable to see what exactly he’s doing, though you’re not sure if you would be able to look at him even without the barrier of the skirt.

Satoru starts low, plush lips pressed against your ankle, tongue tracing up your calf and leaving a wet kiss on your thigh. One moment you feel a hint of teeth around your garter, and the next you feel it loosen and fall to your feet.

Feeling too exposed, you instinctively press your legs together – not that this stops Satoru.

His tongue presses against the seam created from your thighs pressed against each other, and a soft moan slips from your lips.

“If you want more, you’ll have to open up,” he pants breathily, planting another open mouthed kiss on your leg.

There’s an aching want growing in your core, burning hot unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. When he looks up at you, you recognize the way his eyes glimmer with determination. You think you can trust him to tame it. And though Satoru was the first to cross the line, you aren’t any better.

You hesitantly shuffle your legs apart, unable to meet his eyes, waiting nervously for what’s to come.

Satoru is quick to take the opportunity.

He dives in, tongue pressed against the cotton of your underwear. His tongue rolls against your clit through the fabric, and you desperately wish the thin layer wasn’t there.

“Working so hard for me,” he coos, talking directly into your pussy, “you deserve a little treat.”

You want to protest that you’d work hard even if he wasn’t there, but you’re not sure that’s true anymore. The only sound that leaves your mouth is a whine as his tongue ghosts over your clit.

The wet sounds that echo throughout the room fills you with embarrassment, and you’d be regretting it if it didn’t feel so damn good. You don’t remember the last time you felt like this. Satoru’s just too skilled, his tongue pressing flat against your clit before flicking and you respond with a choked back whine.

It shouldn’t matter, you’ve crossed the line already. But there’s something about letting him hear you like this that sets your face ablaze.

Satoru’s fingers press against your folds through the fabric, spreading them apart before his tongue hones in on your clit. Each drag of his tongue draws shapes onto the bundle of nerves with intention. If you could think properly, maybe you’d be able to make out the letters, another confession of his love to you.

Only once your underwear is thoroughly soaked with a mix of his spit and your arousal, does he pull the fabric to the side. Your breath hitches at the sudden exposure, the cold air of the room fanning against your skin. The sensation doesn’t last long as Satoru’s face enthusiastically presses into your cunt. Everything about it is too much; the way his nose presses against your clit, his tongue lapping messily between your folds.

A finger slips in with little resistance around the ring of muscle and you can’t hold your moans back anymore.

“You like that?” he asks.

You give him a shy nod.

“Then lemme hear more of you,” he says, before planting his face back into your pussy.

The sounds get louder as he practically makes out with your pussy. Lips pressed against your clit before a sliver of tongue makes its way out, teasing you with a flick.

Satoru slips in another finger and you groan at the fullness. You knew his hands were large, you’ve felt them before countless times during your post-concert handshakes. Maybe you should’ve taken a longer look at them, analyzed them more thoroughly. The thought never crossed your mind that he would use them like this, knuckles deep into your cunt.

The way he explores your body scares you. How he knows where to press to get a reaction, how to hook his fingers to get you to lean into his touch. As if he absorbed anything and everything there is to know about you through your fleeting moments together. His fingers curl and hit a spot that has you weak in the knees, leaning back onto the counter to find balance.

“Wait, please,” you whine, high pitched and needy. It gets harder to keep your skirt up for him, legs weak from his ministrations.

“Hey, I said keep it up, didn’t I?” he pauses, taking a moment to look up at you from the ruffles.

“I-I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, gorgeous. Just wanna see your face when you cum on my tongue.” With that, he goes back in, far more aggressive than before. His fingers move faster, drawing out wet squelches from your pussy with each pass. The noises he makes are far too lewd for your ears, slurping and groaning as he laps at your clit. This is more the Satoru you recognize, the one you saw earlier tonight. Satoru, who loses himself in the heat of the moment, who eats you out like a man starved.

It’s obvious you’re close with how much your legs tighten. Satoru senses this too, his pace intensifying to get you there.

“Let it all out for me sweetie,” he pants into your cunt between flicks of his tongue. That winding coil in your core snaps and the grip around your skirt tightens as you cum on his tongue. You can’t hold your moans back, letting them messily spill from your mouth as a warm pleasure rushes through your body.

Satoru doesn’t stop, even after the moans have left your body and your muscles have started to relax again. Your heart races at the realization that he wants more.

“Please, please, please, it’s too much-”

“It’s okay, I know you can do it,” he coos, far too sweetly for what he’s asking for you,“lemme give you another, ok?”

Your legs tremble, muscles spasming as his tongue works around your clit in earnest, swirling around the nub as his fingers continue to press against your g-spot. He doesn’t relent when you hand grips onto his hair – if anything it encourages him to go harder. Whatever it takes to get you closer to clenching around his fingers and moan for him in that saccharine voice of yours.

And it works – almost hurts when you cum around his fingers a second time without so much a break. You can’t stop yourself from moaning his name, nearly on the same level of adoration he gives you during your concerts. Satoru seems to be getting a kick out of it, his breathing becoming more labored the more you call for him.

When he takes his fingers out, you wince at the feeling, still sensitive from your orgasms. Your legs threaten to give out on you, but Satoru’s quick to wrap his hand around your waist.

“You did so good for me,” he rushes in to kiss you, and the taste of melon soda barely lingers. You taste yourself– a bit bitter and salty–on his lips, on his tongue when you open and entice him to take you.

Satoru pulls on the elastic of your skirt, raising it up until it’s past your waist. The hem of your skirt now barely covers your exposed pussy, the ruffles brushing it against it as you shift.

He turns and bends you over the vanity, the mirror’s lights shining brightly in your face. It’s not that far off from stage lighting — white rings reflected back in your pupils as you stare back at your reflection.

“You know how cute you are?” he whispers into your ear, so close you can feel the warmth from his words. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

You can’t exactly look back to see it, but you feel it. Something solid pressed against you, wrapped in the cotton of his pants, sliding in between your wet folds. It only takes a moment for him to free himself from the confine of fabric, to feel something hot and heavy and real pushing against you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this,” he says, cockhead sitting on top of your folds. Just feeling you, skin to skin, earns a visceral reaction from him. He can’t stop himself from moaning at the warmth of your cunt, even when it’s just the tip sinking in.

Satoru savors every moment of pushing himself into you, hands shaking as he searches to hold yours. The sound you let out once he bottoms out is foreign to your ears. It stretches you out so much you regret not turning around to get a good look at it.

Satoru starts slow, but you can feel the restraint in his movements. A languid roll of his hips as he fucks into you, littering your neck with kisses. You attempt to tell him not to bite, but all you can let out is a sweet moan when he does.

The drag of his cock against your walls is dangerously addictive, like you could be hooked on this forever. And though it feels good, it’s not enough. His strokes are teasingly slow, as if he wants you to ask for more.

Again, Satoru stumps you by showing how much self control he has. If his wotagei was anything to go off of, you were expecting something frenzied and manic. But you do see a part of his passion reflected in his actions. In the way his words leave his tongue, honeyed and sweet. In the way he fucks you with a tenderness you weren’t sure he would ever be capable of.

“Feelin’ good?”

“Mmhm,” you nod, attempting to hold your voice back from sounding any lewder.

Satoru’s eyes watch over you through the reflection, corners of his lips upturned as you lose yourself into him, voice nothing but dulcet moans. A rush of red rises to his cheeks, making him burn brighter than before.

“God, you’re going to be the end of me,” Satoru groans, his chest pressing against your back until there’s no space left between your bodies, the heat radiating off of him making it feel like you’re melting. With the way he’s rolling his hips into you, you might as well be. Each drag of his cock makes you dizzy, makes you wish you threw your ideals to the side far sooner.

It just feels too good; part of you wonders if this is how lovers do. Maybe not in this particular location or situation, but in the way his hand reaches over to yours. Fingers finding each other and intertwining once again, as if this was always the way it was meant to be. Something drums up in your heart – you don’t want to let go. Desire unfurls in your chest and you want to live in the moment, but you also wish you could bottle it up and save it forever, especially when his soft lips gently kiss your neck before biting to leave yet another mark.

As sweet as it is, you think you’re getting a bit greedy. You want to see more, want to see the Satoru you’ve come to appreciate in all his frenzied affection. With the way he’s moving so slow, he has to be testing you, right? A way to make you say the magic words just so he can hear them, the tone and pitch of your voice, the way you enunciate every syllable so sweetly, commit them to memory. Or maybe he thinks you can’t handle it, in which case, you want to show him you can. A way of thanking him for his years of support.

You don’t do it on purpose – you just can’t help it, looking at him all doe-eyed and a slight pout to your lips. “S-Satoru, harder,” you whine, and something breaks in him. Any ounce of self control goes out the window as soon as you mutter those words.

“Whatever you say, princess,” he mewls, arms wrapping around your lower waist.

His fingers search for your clit, flipping through the layers of ruffles before pressing onto the bud. Within moments he’s playing with it like it’s all he’s ever known, until he has you whining and wincing from his touch. Drawing rough shapes around the bundle of nerves until your muscles squeeze around him.

He starts fucking into you harder, the sound of skin slapping far too loud to ignore. Your hand grips onto his harder, skin balmy from the sweat and heat emanating from both of you.

“You like that, princess?” he asks in a huff, barely able to contain his lust.

All you’re able to let out is a whimper and a nod, and Satoru takes it as a sign to continue.

You don’t recognize yourself in the reflection, tiara crooked, stage outfit unkempt, the debauched expressions you make as your number one fan fucks you senseless. But it doesn’t matter – there’s only one thing on your mind at this very moment, that hot tension in your stomach rapidly rolling towards its peak.

“S-Satoru, I’m, I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum for me,” Satoru growls breathily into your ear, gently kissing the shell before continuing, “let it all out just for me.”

When your climax washes over you, it’s far more intense than the others he’s given you tonight. Legs trembling as pure bliss rushes throughout your body, even as Satoru continues fucking you through it. It’s too much, moaning his name as a way to talk yourself through it. Every part of you is warm and fuzzy as pleasure runs its course.

Satoru isn’t far behind, he’d probably want this to last longer but he just can’t – not with the way your walls clench and squeeze around him. With a few more strokes he’s burying himself deep into you, huffing and panting as he empties hot, white ropes of his seed into you.

It takes a moment to peel away from him, and the second you do, he’s quick to tighten his grasp around you, to hold you in your arms just a bit longer.

Satoru gives you a kiss on the cheek, something gentle and chaste.

“Did you like your present?”

[solar4seekstron]

D-16 x Cybertronian!Reader One Shot: Conjunx

Here’s another One Shot with my bbg D-16. This one just cam e into mind so of course i got to writing. I’m pretty proud of this story and I enjoyed writing for only D. I hope you all enjoy!

TW/Tags: Fluff/Wholesomeness at beginning, D is precious and silly, angst after cut after wholesome romance, Implied abuse (mild), kidnapping, toxic relationship at end. Might make part 2? We’ll see what my brain throws at me at 2 am lol

You and D only really hanged out when Orion was around. Not because D was embarrassed but because Orion was usually busy doing something else. You were seen as a quiet bot and also cool by D. You always stood up to the superiors knowing you weren’t out of line. And despite being a few inches smaller then D. You were strong! D won’t admit it but he was defiantly attracted to you.

One day when getting off the train, Orion did something stupid again. Elita dragged him away to do a late mining shift as punishment. Later D was alone and worked on punching the punching bag in the mining quarters. The others left him be, knowing his temper without Orion. He was so focused he didn’t notice you came up behind him. Knowing he might try to punch you if you startled him. You descide to pick him up by the waist strartling him “Hey you glitchin bot! Put me dow- Oh its you.” You put him down. He looked at you no longer startled.

”Sorry D didn’t want you to punch me if I didn’t pick you up.” You chuckled.

”You know you could’ve handled my punches right?”

”Yes but I would’ve had to punch you back.”

”…..Good point.” He pointed his digit to you.

”You mind if we talk?” D almost froze as his smile shows to have strained a bit as he looked at you. “It’s nothing bad.” You chuckled. “Come on lets go where we can see the Iacon 5000 sign.”

“O-ok.” You two walked and once up there you finally spoke.

”So D I’ve been thinking. We’ve been good friends for a good while and was hoping. Since after all this time-“ You continue to speak as his head only started to overthink.

Was so lost in thought of you possibly leaving him that he barely heard you. He then heard you say Conjunx out of the blurr of what you’re saying. But that word brought him out of his thoughts “What you say?”

”D-16 will you be my Conjunx?” You were on one knee. (Thought it be cute shud up) D was dumbfounded until he realized and his face no longer showed a blank expression but had a cute little grin appear on his face. He then shakes a little. Little sounds of metal being heard. You reached a cervo toawrds him once you stood, a bit worried “Uhhh D??”

Then out of no where he hugged you and started spinning, you around as he shouted in cheer and joy. You were now dumbfounded and put your cervos on his shoulders gently patting. “So…..that’s a yes?” He then holds you up with his hands holding your waist.

”YES!!!!” I have been waiting for so lo-“ He looked at you once he stopped. He can tell you were trying to hold in a laugh. “Uhh”

”Guess tonight will be a night to never forget.” You both chuckled and embrace each other. Both of your foreheads touching as you two closed your eyes.

D then lets out a soft sigh as he gently lowers you. You standing once more. Your arms around his neck and his around your waist. Your foreheads still touching as you two stared into each other’s eyes.

”I love you Y/N”

”I love you D. Mine. Always and Forever.”

You both leaned closer together and as your lips both finally touch. The sparks in your chests soon glow. Shinning around you as you two stay in the moment together with the sign of Iacon 5000 behind you both in the dark city.

———————————————————————————

(Last chance guys skip this part if you don’t wanna feel pain)

Megatron sat in his throne as he thought about that night. It is truly the night to remember. After everything. He lost his best friend, his home, and after realizing he has been lied to for all his life up to now. He just couldn’t lose you. The high guard was third to him. His new cause is his new goal but you. YOU are the one thing that truly belongs to him.

As he sat there, his head resting on his fist as he watched the high guards having a meeting. He listened, only glancing down to see you every so often as you rest your head and one of your cervos against his chassis.

Your optics closed as you sat on his lap. You had a cog and a decepticon logo on your chassis. His arm around behind your back and cervo resting on your thigh. Your other cervo that wasn’t on his chest resting on top of his on your thigh. You had a few dents. Proof from when he forced you to come with him when sneaking into the city and take you with him. After some time he had to discipline you to behave. Same thing when he forced you to stay still as the Decepticon logo was put on you. You are His Conjunx. You should really learn to trust him. He even threatened to hurt you more if you chose to break the bond from that very night. Ever since then you’ve been tired and miserable. You always felt his feelings through the bond. But you can still feel that love he has for you. Only it’s much darker now.

You listened to his spark beat as you two stayed silent. Starscream and Shockwave started to argue as Soundwave sat there with a data pad. You’d slowly open your optics. You had a little rust under your eyes. Not very visible if far enough.

You cried. You cry every night after Megatron goes to recharge. The meeting eventually ends and Megatron dismisses everyone. Once everyone was gone he looked down at you. Finally lifting his head so he’s more straight sitting up. Moving his cervo to now hold your chin. Making you look at him as his now red optics narrowed and stared down at you. “Hungry sweetspark?” His voice was darker and rough. It still makes you flinch when he speaks to you.

You didn’t answer. You only shook your head as your optics remained dim. He leaned his head lower a bit. His face only inches from yours. “Almost Obedient…hm…”

You two remain silent for a moment.

“Mine. Always and Forever.”

He closes the distance. His lips connecting with yours once more after so long. His lips now cold as he closed his optics. You closed yours a second after.

But you didn’t return the kiss. His cervo moving from your thigh to the back of your head. Pushing your head a bit closer. Your kiss is no longer the same. His kiss. Is no longer the same. Megatron wasn’t Your D-16.

So….. y’all like 😗?

[thetorturedfagdepartment]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Halloween Heartbeat ࿐ྂ

A/N: Hiii!!! First fic + Real post on tumblr :3 I hope you guys enjoy this fic! I took a good amount of time on it and hope to get it to 3 chapters before Halloween ends! Anywho enjoy!!! (Also I put it into grammarly so I hope the spelling and grammar is good…)

Tags: Fluff, Modern Au, Halloween Horror nights, Scare Actor Ellie, Ellie x F Reader, Strangers to Lovers?, Men DNI!!!

Your friends love Halloween Horror Nights! You on the other hand— not so much… You guys had just made it out of a house and god were you panicked… Breathing heavy, hands sweaty, vision a little blurry—

“Hey you okay?” one of your friends says placing their hand on your shoulder causing you to jump. “Damn hey chill— we can leave if you want—“

“No!” You shout cutting them off “I’m good I’ll just wait outside the next one.”

Your friends nod and they head to the next house. They wave you goodbye and you stand outside. You see a sweet treat spot across the house and make your way over. The area was crowded and filled with people in costumes, and scare actors and you just tried to stay calm and ignore it.. until a scare actor with short messy auburn hair came up behind you with a chainsaw, she pulled it and it rumbled. You let out a piercing scream, mixed with some tears. She freezes and sees how panicky you are. She then starts to feel bad causing her to break character.

“Hey, Hey, Hey… it’s fake.” She turns it off and touches the blades “See fake.”

You nod and wipe the tears, you have been filled with so much fear and anxiety since you got here.

“S—sorry… I’m usually not this pathetic.” You chuckle and she shakes her head.

“You’re not pathetic, everyone gets scared..” She smiled, you see her pretty eyes and freckles. Although they were mostly covered by the fake blood she had on. She had baggy jeans and a somewhat white tank top drenched in blood and fake cuts all over her. “I’m Ellie,” she extends a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie,” you shake her hand and exchange introductions. She was really sweet.

“Actually um— I’m about to start my break how about I meet you in there and buy you a treat?” She says with a warm smile that sends shivers down your spine. You look over and notice your friends have just gotten out of the house.

“I— um—.. oh my friends are back.” You say turning her down.

She seems very upset as you reject her.

“Omg we leave you alone for like 3 minutes and you already get a girl?” One of your friend’s jokes.

“Come onnn, tell us who’s the lady who stole our best friend…” Another one says shaking you gently.

“I’m Ellie, don’t worry guys I’m just about to hand her back. But first I want your number. If that’s okay..?”

You think for a second and nod smiling with a faint blush. You then take out your phone and exchange numbers.

“Heh.. thanks I’ll see you around.” She walks away leaving you with your friends cheering for you getting her number.

—

A few weeks had passed since then, and you and Ellie have begun texting often. She makes you laugh, smile, and blush, every time you guys text its butterflies. She just knows how to make you happy.. Ellie told you what time her shift ended and she had given you some sneaky tickets to come back whenever. You decide maybe it’s time to surprise her..

You get into a cute outfit hoping she’ll like it, even throwing on some makeup… just to give yourself an extra bit of pizazz. You head out the door looking super cute— all just for her.

As you arrive and head into the park, all of the anxiety from a few weeks ago comes right back. The loudness, the people, the scare actors… it’s all just too much. You walk into the gates and brace yourself. Ellie said she's over in the Terror Tram today.. Perfect. Far. You brace yourself, walking through the crowd, and scare zones trying to not cry and pee yourself. One specific actor wouldn’t leave you alone. He chases you through the entire zone. You scream and run quickly but he won’t leave! You end up bumping into someone.

A familiar freckled auburn-haired girl just so happens to be the one you run into…

“Hey, hey.. what’s going on it’s me… w—wait why are you here..?” She tries to calm you down and reassure you, but she’s a bit confused as to why you’re here.

“H—he—he won’t stop chasing me!” You point at the tall man with nice black hair and clown makeup on, who just so happened to have been chasing you with a knife.

“Him? Oh, that’s Jesse.. Jesse!! Get your ass over here!” Ellie calls him over. You then grab her hand and stand next to her.

“Yeah, Elles? Oh look you caught her!” He chuckles. He’s taller, sorta broad, and has medium-length black hair.

“Leave her alone. She’s my — uh…” she blushes and looks away “—friend…”

“Oh, so I’m just a friend now?” You chuckle nudging her.

“Hush.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Ellie’s just a friend. I’m Ellie’s friend Jesse, and that’s Dina another one of our friends.” He points to a pretty girl dressed up as a killer broken doll.

“Friends? You guys broke up again.” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“You know Dina…” Jesse shakes his head.

You seeing Ellie interact with her friend is kinda cute.. it’s a side you had yet to see of her, and now you’re worried you won’t be able to get it out of your head.. after a few moments they start saying bye.

“Well see ya, I’m still on the clock, and apologies for scaring the shit out of you,” Jesse says as he walks off.

“He seems nice, you know not when he acts like he’s gonna kill me…” you say giving her a dorky smile.

“Yeah, now what are you doing here? I told you my shift was over soon remember I was gonna go to your place.” She says shaking her head and letting out some tongue clicks.

“I know!!! I just wanted to surprise you…”

“Hey that’s really cute and sweet but I don’t want you coming here by yourself knowing you’re gonna be scared,” Ellie says giving you a reassuring smile.

“Okay, okay.. fine I won’t do it again.” You then smile back at her.

“Atta girl. Now, I’m off the clock, and its uhhhh 10 pm? How about we go grab some fast food and head back to your place, I’ll get the food and you set up your living room for a fun hangout night, huh?” Ellie smiles, and a cute pink rose tint appears on her freckled cheeks.

You agree and like Ellie says she heads over to grab some burgers, fries, drinks, and a nice ice cream each for you guys. As you wait for her you set up the living room. On your way home you decided to get some Halloween things. Such as cute spooky blankets, some cobwebs, fake pumpkins, and cute little ghost plushies. You dimmed the lights and sat on the couch waiting for her.

Ellie comes in with the food and locks your door back.

“Woahhhh cute.. I really like how you decorated the place. You know, you didn’t need to do all that.” Ellie says setting the food down and handing you, your drink. She shakes her head and chuckles taking a seat next to you.

“Yeah, I know but I wanted to make the living room look all cute..” You blush slightly and grab the food.

“So what is this like a date now?” Ellie says taking a bite of her burger.

“… if you want it to be…” you then look her in the eyes.

“I— um .. w—well yeah…” Ellie blushes feeling a bit flustered and jittery inside. It’s been a while since she had felt this way. Maybe a little too long..?

You nod your head and you guys eat dinner, with a little bit of chit-chatting here and there. You guys finish the burgers and fries and eat your ice cream cuddling on the couch.

Eventually, Ellie clears her throat and brings up the topic of movies.

“Sooo what do you wanna watch pretty girl.”

Pretty girl…

“Uhh I don’t know, I’m not that much into horror so as long as it’s not that I’m fine.” You say taking a lick of your ice cream.

“I should’ve guessed that.. well come on we have to watch something spooky or at least like with mythical creatures!” Ellie nudges you and laughs.

“Okay then..”

You get up and grab a DVD, you then insert it in your PlayStation.

“A DVD? Come on how old are you 40?” Ellie says with a stupid snort-laugh.

You then play your DVD and Ellie has no clue what you put on.

“Soooo what did you choose?”

“You’ll see…”

“I swear to god if it’s stupid I’m literally gonna murder you.. this time with a real chainsaw.” Ellie groans and you guys finish your ice creams and lay back.

Then the intro rolls in.

“You’re fucking kidding me right..? Twilight.” Ellie groans, rubbing her face, and shoves you off of her.

“Come on what’s so bad with Twilight!” You then scoot back over and flick her nose causing it to scrunch.

“It’s corny! I always cringe! I mean the plot is good it’s just cringe all right!!” Ellie whines but soon she sucks it up for your sake.

As the movie plays Ellie makes some snobby jokes and you just bounce back. About halfway through the movie she just stares at you…

You feel her gaze and look at her. Causing her to look away, a soft blush appears on her and you giggle. Butterflies sent straight to her stomach. You don’t stop staring… you keep looking at her. She’s beautiful, how has no one already swooped her off her feet…? God you wanna kiss her— what..?

“Uh— you’re … missing the best part…” Ellie says clearing her throat and still blushing like a dork.

“I’ve seen it 1000 times… Ellie I—“ You then lean in for a kiss.

Ellie’s eyes widen as her lips press yours. She places a hand on the side of your cheek leaning towards you gently kissing you. Your hands wrap around her waist as you guys cuddle while you kiss. The kiss is long and gentle.

The kiss finally breaks and a tiny piece of salvia strings between you two. Ellie chuckles wiping her lips.

“You’re so cute..” she says smiling like a dork.

“Yeah… right back at you.”

You have no regrets about going to that stupid amusement park a few weeks ago now.

Read part 2 here!

[thesharktanksdriver]

Determination!: The all blue night (platonic)

Masterlist for the series.

I put in Zeff’s manga reasoning for loosing a leg this one cause it makes more sense and is much more impactful in my opinion. Like I get they didn’t want to put in he ate his own leg to survive because it’s super dark but I digress. Sorry for the slow rate I’m writing stuff school has been taking a big toll on me inspiration wise and kinda mentally too lol

tag list : @peachsuka28 @emptynessinmyworld @badluckinfrench @j-s-l-m @tigerfang-rage @madokamagicaa @rymtea @angstylittleb1tch @badluckinfrench @emmbny @kenkenmaaa @yunho-leeknow @chibiduck @spqce-bun @coca-cola-fiend @Koifishpoond @eyes-ofhell @imaginarydreams @ghostdoodlen

At some point in a long while hunger becomes or less like second nature

You knew the feeling intimately

It starts as a burning pit that consumes your entire stomach

Eating through stomach lining as acid boils over and spills into the rest of you

It travels and burns

Eating you away as hands scrape against the midriff to try and alleviate the ache

The pain

The want

The need

The agony

But eventually the pain becomes background noise

As does all pain after so long

You’d died so many times in so many different ways and yet starvation is one thing that is familiar to you

And like how death is your friend whom you see oh so often

So is hunger

Nights spent alone clutching a completely empty stomach

The pain becoming almost a comforting sensation in its familiarity

At some point you’d just accepted that your stay hungry

That even when dying over and over again and occasionally treating yourself to a meal you’d stay hungry

Because even when you ate it was never enough

Stomach still aching and swirling in its emptiness and collapsing in on itself

At some point a long time ago you used to go to bed with a full stomach and now each night your rocked to sleep by the pain of an empty one

Things used to be different

And you can’t remember what that was like anymore

So you just accepted as it was

And so you accepted you’d be forever hungry

Ending up a cruise ship wasn’t your intention but just as most things that happen to you it quickly becomes a new experience

And as always you go with the flow of things

Ending up on the cruise wasn’t planned

Nor was ending up somehow being found by a young chef boy who helped cover for you

But as always fate seemed to have different plans

And you just rolled with it

The boy’s name was Sanji, he was 10 and helped you hide in the storage area of the cruise

At night he’d sneak you out

With hands much like your own, scarred yet retaining a soft and caring quality he’d guide you through the halls

Past the creaky floorboards he knew by heart after 2 years of apparently living on this ship

Through the elegant dining rooms that housed grand chandeliers and checkerboard floors

Beneath the white table cloths of spotless tables he and you sit

Quietly looking at recipe books together or sharing stories between the two of you

Sanji was apparently from the north blue originally, but found himself on the cruise that now housed him called the orbit

The chefs found him one night

Scared and alone pillaging the kitchen

They took pity on him, partially out of genuine concern and intrigue at seeing the spark of talent in him

And since then he’s been cooking and calling this place “home”

Though that was a vague term

Much like yourself Sanji had ambitions beyond this small boat cruising the sea

He wanted to find something

Wanted to be something beyond an errand boy

Wanted to cook for anyone who’d have his food

To ensure they didn’t go to bed hungry

The way he describes it to you under a table in candlelight resounds something in you

Especially since he then takes your hands, promising he’d ensure you’d be full

That you’ll have the best food he can provide

All for you

Someone who’s still a stranger to him

A stowaway on a cruise meant for upper crust but not quite celestial dragons (yet they both act the same either way)

And he still promises he’d do everything in his power to make you content

He cooks for you as if you were someone important and not a stowaway

You nod along not having the will to tell him he’d never be able to do that

Not when you can’t remember what being full felt like anyways

And so you lie and say your full after you finish a plate even if your still staving

His blinding smile is able to make you feel the pain momentarily go away anyways

Sanji tells you one night of a place called “the all blue”

Supposedly it was the place that connected the north, south, east, and west together

Creating a sea where creatures from all four seas could coexist together

It was a chef and fisherman’s dream

But it was just that

A dream

Unattainable and imaginary

Or…at least that’s what everybody else thought

But not Sanji

And certainly not you

He speaks so hopeful about his dream

Of finding the all blue

Of proving everyone wrong

Of making his dream come true

He has the spark to do it

You can tell by his eyes alone

Sapphire hued just like the waves of the ocean he seeks

Similarly he sees a spark in your eyes as well

Almost seeming to Glow in hazy candlelight

And as you say you believe in him

In his dream

Believed in him when no one else did

Well, who’s to say he couldn’t become more motivated

Especially when your eyes shine like stars above the sea

And when in the candlelight highlighted by luminous stars hidden in irises he asks you about your dream

And in a haze of memory and emotion you tell him a story

One you cannot remember now but he holds dear in his heart

The story of wanting

The story loss

The story of loneliness

The story of a family torn apart

And the story of a devil fruit

By the end of it all you and Sanji sit in a darkened kitchen

Two stowaways on the same ship (though one is welcomed and the other is a mystery)

Both connected through the spark of a dream to sail the seas

One’s purpose clear while the other is hazed

But either which way the two talk in an empty kitchen and eat

Unknowingly both know what it feels like to starve

And both know loss

The two of you make a pinky promise, when he finds the all blue you’ll be the first to have one of his meals and you promise you’ll always be his friend

The raid of the orbit comes out of nowhere and somehow predictable at the same time

You’d come to know that your luck was something that ran out quite fast

And unfortunately you were no stranger to things such as this

But typically when a ship went down you were on the deck

Now instead you were in the storage

Stood atop boxes that were quickly being eaten up by cold unforgiving water

Yelling and screams echoes down quickly flooding halls

Waves crashing so Harshly against the ship that it begins to crack the wood, doesn’t help that the invading ship is bumping into it either

Confusion spreading through you like wildfire as the water continues to raise higher and higher

If you were anyone else you’d be scared of dying to such a fate

But your not

Your more worried about Sanji as you trudge through the wading waves

Feet becoming heavier and heavier with each step you take

Feeling as if concrete was slowly forming shoes over your boots or chains manifesting from the cold water that sucks warmth from you

By now it’s just above your waist and the effects of it really begin to hit you

Soon enough you’d be immobile

Unable to move and frozen like a Statue for the waves that’ll sink you with it

If you didn’t die from the cold first but you doubted that

With how the steadily rising of it your definitely drowning before hypothermia or shock

Though at this point even the pain of choking on salt water, it quickly filling your lungs for the burn of air loss to help fill the liquid

But then you hear sloshing through the blaring of your ears

And your name

It echoes and for a moment you need a moment to realize what was said or who even called out

But then it hits you

Sanji

He came back for you

Came back knowing you’d be in danger

Came back knowing you were in an area with water

Came back knowing you’d be eaten up by the waves if he didn’t

Came back because he knew knew you ate a devil fruit

Shaking cold hands grab your own and he drags you with him

But at the point in which the water gets to the point of immobilizing you he decides to pick you up instead

Placing you on his back as he drags both himself and you through flooding halls

Water splashes

Yelling continues

Sanji’s rapidly thumbing heart echoes through your ribcage as you helplessly lay your head on his shoulder

He should’ve left you there to save himself

You say so to his face

But despite that he yells at you for being an idiot

About how in the hell you expected him to leave you there to die

Not when he promised he’d cook you the first meal he’d make when he found the all blue

Not when you were the only one who enjoyed his cooking

Through the chaos you and him stumble out into the deck

The boat rocking violently as rain and sea water pelts down on you like hail

Your still weak because of this, the water soaking you to the bone

But thoroughly out of being submerged you slink off of Sanji’s back

But he holds your hand

It shakes in your grip

He’s scared and you can’t blame him

Swords clash all around the two of you, and somehow both of you weave through the carnage

For reasons you don’t like to think about he seemed used to fighting just as you were

But unlike you who content in laying down and dying he fights

Sanji will die clawing to survive

It’s why he picks up a sword

Why he points it at a pirate despite the fact he won’t win

Why he pushes you behind him even if your stronger and older than him

Because Sanji cares

And that’s something very rare now in the world

Even when the captain of the crew comes up to the two of you Sanji doesn’t back down

He proudly declares his dream

To find the all blue

And within that captains eyes you see it

That same spark, that same dream, that same determination

Though it’s dying and faded it for a moment lights up once more

You see it before being engulfed by water and grasp for it

You, Sanji and the pirate known as Zeff end up on a barren rock in the middle of the ocean

No grass nor trees

Just a jutting stone too far up from the water to safely jump in from or fish

Stuck after the captain with dimming eyes saved both you and Sanji after a colossal wave swept the two of you off ship

In the water despite your attempts in making Sanji let you go he didn’t

His grip had held stead-strong as he kept trying to pull you up with him

Unable to even as air escaped his lungs

But Zeff intervened

And the three of you were alive for now

But you could hardly call this living

You sit with Sanji looking out towards the sea, hoping for a ship to cross by

The food given by Zeff won’t last long to feed either of you past a few days, you know that

Even if Sanji does his best to ration it between the two of you

You know one of you won’t survive

And you know you won’t let it be him

Starvation is not a new go around for you

It’s probably your most common death besides dehydration, drowning or hypothermia

But it’s not a fun way to go even if the pain of a empty stomach became commonplace for you

You can’t let Sanji die that way

Not before finding the all blue

So when he’s not looking you hid the food he gives you

Hiding each piece and scrap of moldy bread

Keeping it from his sapphire eyes that become more and more sunken like your own

Keeping the fact how much pain your in from him

You distract from it all by telling him more stories

Of singing songs even if your throat feels like sand paper is scraping against it with each word

Each syllable

Each hum

But you don’t care

Not when you see his eyes reignite with hope

Not when his sullen face pulls up into a smile when you tell him of when you learned piano from a crew who befriended a whale

Not when they sparkle with curiosity when hearing of a land atop the clouds with white winged people

Not when you see the slightest bit of ease when you tell him of the constellations

Pointing to the stars and explaining their meaning

Telling him how no one was ever truly alone when the stars hung and watched

That’s what’s you had told yourself after so many weeks alone drifting

That the stars were watching

That you weren’t alone as you clutched Roger’s coat closer

Everyone was made of stardust and in the end that’s where they returned when they died

You weren’t alone, not with the stars watching over you

Not when Roger was watching over you

As you lay awake while Sanji clings to you for warmth you pull the coat closer around the two of you

One night as Sanji slept you snuck to the other side of the island

Zeff doesn’t face you, but the smell of iron lingers in a scent as familiar as the sea to you

Blood

It stains the ground and air in its presence

It’s familiar to you though, even if that’s a sad fact to admit

Sitting down next to the old captain you look to the night sky

Your oldest friend of them all

Bleak and empty with the stars being the only boots of light penetrating the deep darkness

Dead stars continuing to shine even after being extinguished, their light still traveling eons away to hit your eyes in their gentle glow amidst the sorrow and joy of life

His hand trumps your shoulder as you sit next to him, he can probably feel the bone beneath now paper thing flesh

Fat being eaten away by your body to try and survive

Leaving you a shell of yourself even moreso than him or Sanji

He can tell, and despite not looking in his diminishing eyes you can sense the horror in them

His shaking hand is enough to tell you

But despite it all you smile at him, now looking at the weathered man

Your eyes speak volumes that he can’t decipher in such little amount of time

But even with that he sees the understanding and acceptance of your own fate

And it crushes him

Grinds him down to his very spirit

And Zeff is left speechless as you tend to his tourniquet and stump of a leg

Still bloody and raw

You don’t flinch at the sight at all

If anything you gaze at blood and gore as if it were normal

Examining it as if it were a paper cut before assuring him it’s luckily not infected and that he cut off his blood circulation correctly

How you knew this knowledge was beyond him

And yet you knew it all the same

Humming a soft tune to yourself that he hears softly in the daytime across the little barren rock of an island

It’s raspy and quiet

And at the same time hauntingly loud in his ears

It seems to linger there even as you go back to Sanji

As does the fact you know what your fate is

And that there’s nothing him nor the boy could do for you, your body on the cusp of death that nothing could change that

But all the same you smile and sing in the face of it all

As if awaiting death like an old friend at a bar

Drunk on the remaining days of your life as you sung songs awaiting his arrival

You’ve always known when your time was near, you always seemed to sense it before it had come

Maybe death was a sentient entity and you’d just been able to sense it better as time went on

Or maybe you were just so used to your body shutting down that you’d noticed the signs before it happened

But either which was you knew your time was soon

There was no crying about it

Nor shivers of fear

If anything it felt more like a release and a hopeful occasion

Because you’d be released from the hunger if only to feel your stomach become empty again (but for the moment you wake in that void where you clutch a golden star the pain is gone)

If only to be released from this barren prison and find a way to save Sanji and Zeff

Because if you died you could get them help

That was seemingly the only purpose of your powers anyways

Die

Comeback

Rinse and repeat

You were fine with it though

As long as it meant you were able to help others (even at your own expense)

Every moment drags on

Every twitch of your finger takes so much out of you

Your body not having enough to power it

Despite it though you sit beside Sanji one last time

You sing for him and tell him stories

Tell him of the grand line and its wonders

The new world and its mystery

Trailing off occasionally for a break as everything becomes harder to do

The words seeming to slur and slosh around in your mouth

He can tell something is wrong

By the tears gathering in ocean blue eyes he knows

So he savours what you say

What you tell

What you sing

The words being engraved in his mind as paper thin skeletal hands clutch his own

That night he falls asleep much later than he usually did

He sits staring up to the stars you’d told him of

His grip deathly tight on your hand

Thumb lightly grazing your pulse as if to ensure himself your still there

Still breathing

Still alive

Using your pulse to try and keep himself awake even if it’s wasting precious energy

When he eventually drifts off with tears gathered in his eyes (knowing you’d be deathly still in the morning, cold and stiff and forever asleep) you tell him to find it

The all blue

He dreams of that place when you slip from his grasp

He dreams of the fishes mingling together when you take out the scraps hidden away and placing them in his pile

He dreams of preparing when you hobble over to Zeff

He dreams of cooking when the old man begs you to eat, to be selfish and you reply that you are being selfish. That you want him and Sanji to live for your sake and that was as selfish as it came

He dreams of serving you a dish when the old man can do nothing but hold you close and not want to let go and yet eventually you slip away

He dreams of your reaction as you say to Zeff your gonna go get some rest and promise to get them help with a gentle smile

He dreams of sitting beside you with his feet in the water wadding slowly, the sight of a sunset fading quickly into night

Briefly he jostles momentarily awake when you lay back next to him, smiling and telling him to get some rest

Halfway asleep he nods, partially thinking it was his dream because he’s had no one care for him like this except you (and mom and maybe Reiju)

So of course for the moment in which he’s only partially aware he sees it as a happy dream

You hold him close and he goes back to dreaming

He dreams of you sitting by his mom in that hospital bed, a dish for the two of you in her lap while you fade into the nothingness that is night

When he wakes that morning he wakes up alone and cold

He lays there for several minutes sobbing to himself as he notices the food he rationed out for you a few feet away untouched and moldy

Sanji sobs and his all blue eyes spill with tears

Across the island the old man does the same

Your body is not on the island and unknowingly to them faded to stardust

But both later come to the conclusion that in your last moments you’d decided to take the plunge into the water

To not leave them with a rotting corpse on that barren rock (since despite both of their hunger neither would eat your corpse. Zeff could eat his own leg in desperation but that was his leg, not the dead body of a child)

A reminder of both their failures

One in protecting the two young children he sacrificed his leg for

And the other in promising you’d be the first to taste his dream

Unbeknownst to them across the sea a young child reports to a ship of being a survivor of the orbit

Saying that they saw two others shipwrecked on a rocky island jutting out from the ocean

As a ship is sent off to investigate an odd group of crows end up dropping food on the barren island to Sanji and Zeff’s bitter relief

Two loafs of bread and a canteen of water being able to get them a few more days before rescue

The urge to go see them is there within your heart, but for their sake you decide not to

You’d caused them too much pain in the first place

You don’t want to rub salt in the wound

Plus you’d prefer oregano instead to season yourself

Sanji is a troubled child, he’s self aware to know that about himself

It’s perhaps why everyone hated him

But for some reason you didn’t and surprisingly enough so did Zeff

The two of you handed out kindness to him as if he deserved it

As if he weren’t a failure on so many levels both genetically and emotionally

In a sense he could get why you did it, a kid only maybe a year or two older than him

Someone he viewed as his closest friends despite the relativity of time spent together and as a sibling he wishes he had (the now healed bruises and scars you saw but never pushed to ask about as you helped put salves over the old wounds are evident of that)

Someone who sacrificed themselves for him, for some fucking reason saving your food for him even as you withered away before his eyes

If he had been more watchful he would’ve noticed it, but being half there on that island starved and scared left him more like a shell

Made him ignorant until it was too late

He could accept why you care, but he can’t accept why Zeff cares

Can’t accept why this man, a hardened pirate would give a shit about him

Offer him kindness

Take him in

Mentor him

And eat his own leg to ensure Sanji and you wouldn’t go hungry (partially worked in the end)

Sanjis sometimes gets kindness from women, moms warm hugs are evident in his mind as is the tears from a sister who tells him to go and be free

Sanji’s sometimes kindness from those his age, your the shining example but he can also think of a few guests in the orbit who played games with him in its halls

But most of all Sanji has never experienced kindness from a man

So seeing Zeff go out of his way for him

Seeing how Zeff on the rescue ship doesn’t let anyone hound him for invasive answers and ensures he gets food first

The good food the ship goers give in pity that he scrounges up with a snotty noose and runny eyes, Zeff always lets him eat first before having his own fix

How Zeff rubs his back as the both mourn

It means a lot more than words can say

As does the fact that Zeff on a silent night says he’s going to open a restaurant on the sea

And that he needs staff

A silent invitation that is solidified as Sanji quietly takes his hand with tears in his eyes

If the old man is crying Sanji doesn’t comment

Not even if raindrops fall down from a clear night sky and pelt his dirtied kitchen apron

Not when he’s held close in loving arms

Not when they sit in the deck both brokenly humming the song you’d sing like a broken record

Out of tune and off key

It plays when the two of them cook in the kitchen of the baratie

Sanji always looks to the stars when he takes a smoke break, Zerg occasionally accompanying him on the balcony in a somber silence

And even though Sanji hates wasting food he can’t help but make an extra plate sometimes

Can’t help but subconsciously make more than needed to feed someone not there

Zeff doesn’t comment on it and tells the others to lay off if they ask Sanji about it

He can’t judge when he sometimes does the same

Can’t when he sometimes looks out to sea and hears your humming in the waves

The small song sung by a raspy throat that helped ease hours of the days spent on that barren rock

Days in which he worries of his wound being infected

Days in which he worried for the boy who shared his dream and the child who looked as if they accepted death

And it stays with him

Because Zeff can so clearly see your sunken face when he spots a starved begger on the street

Can so clearly see how you curled up at night trying to keep Sanji warm as skeletal hands clung to you

Can clearly see your eyes when he stares out at night, the full shine of stars that looked so bleak

Can so clearly see you valued the two of them more than yourself no matter how either of them tried to save you

And yet they couldn’t do it

You weren’t here anymore, no body to bury or honour either

Nothing but a barren rock and cold salty water to serve as your grave

The chefs at baratie try to question when one night a year they see Zeff and Sanji leave a full plate of food on the deck

But none of them ever get an answer except it was for someone hungry they couldn’t feed

Patty always tries to chase away the crows that peck at the food but each year they return to eat that plate of food until nothing is left

And oddly enough the murder always seems to leave behind a loaf of bread in the plates place

Years later a cannonball crashes through the baratie

Cracking and breaking timber in of what Sanji calls a home

Besides that and a marine asshole with his beautiful date it’s a mostly normal day

Not the worse he’s experienced

Nor the best

Average would be the best way to put it, the baratie often times seeming more like a fight club rather than a proper cooking establishment

If the smirk wasn’t enough I n the douches face then it was the fact he wasted perfectly good food

The thought sickens him

A sunken starved face stares back at him from the wasted soup

Boney and dead

It leaves him sick to his stomach especially when a starved pirate stumbles through the door

And everything seems to come back to him all at one once

Especially the man’s eyes, they look too much like your own on those last few days on the hellish rock

Soulless and empty

When he places a plate in front of the starved man he doesn’t expect anyone from the dinning room to follow in his example

Not with their cheering of the man being beaten down by patty

But stepping through the side door someone follows

He extinguishes his cigarette and turns around just as he hears the clink of another plate being lowered to the wooden deck

And it’s there that Sanji freezes

Your eyes stare back at him in just as much shock

A cigarette long forgotten falls to the deck and is extinguished when he steps on it

His arms wrap around your own as tears drop freely from his eyes

You hold him the same as you did the last

One hand laced in golden hair while the other pats his back

His knees buckle from the weight of it all

This has to be a dream

He only sees you in dreams or in the faces of the truly hungry

Your sunken starry eyes staring out from others

But your here

And your healthy and safe and alive

And despite the fact he’s confused as all hell

He can’t help but thank whatever god there is out there that your here again

Not just a reflection of a memory

Your here

When you pull away he can’t help but want to pull you back just to ensure you don’t go

To not make the same mistake that Zeff did in letting you go that he still regrets every single day of his life

But as you pull away you do so entirely, you hold both his hands as he kneels to match your level

A confused starved pirate watching confused as hell alongside a boy in a straw hat

“I know you probably have a lot of questions” you say, your hands fidgeting in his with nervousness. You expect him to be mad, to blow up at you and yell at you to leave but he doesn’t, instead you feel his thumb rubbing circles comfortingly on your knuckles. “Think you can get the old man? I think I owe it to you to explain….oh and I’ll pay for the food. I grabbed a random plate on the way here”

[cassoliravioli]

INTRO!!

Hello! I am Cassoli and I am crazy obsessed with TF2

DNI:

Just don't be weird and people who have some sort of prejudice against alt people and minorities, please, be a kind person, not everyone is the same and people have their way of expressing themselves 👍

Child likers and people who like incest ships

Basic info :3

I go by Cassoli, Ravioli or Runner (my pfp is me irl fr), btw funfact cassoli is my very cool surname

I am cis girl but idgaf to pronouns honestly

I am 15, but I wanna warn you that i am not innocent, nor I am afected (generally) to +18 stuff (NORMAL STUFF BTW), so DONT get a jumpscare if I post something a bit horny 😭🙏 since COME ON sex is a normal thing yall

I am 🇧🇷, my first language is portuguese so my english sucks

I study in a military school and try my best to go very well at it (trust me I am very smart! -> 🤓☝️) and I am a track athlete so I don't post very often of how occupied I am... and sometimes im just lazy 🤑

FANDOM INFO YEHAW

Team Fortress 2: main fandom, I am highly hyperfixated on it so I generally only post this iamverysorry 😔

Murder Drones: cool asf show, highly recommend if u like horror 🥸

FNAF: hurhurhurhur (my favorite character is bonnie)

OFF: batter is charismatic. AND THE LORE OHMYGODDD 🗣🗣

Chainsaw man: the only anime I like 😔

Sonic: first fandom, I still love it dearly

Happy Tree Friends: I love it SOMUCH goddamit I cannot even put into words 😔 I know its gorey and stuff but ITS THE CHARACTERS FOR ME SORRY ☹️

TF2 INFO HELL YEAH 💥

I am

Unhealthly obsessed

with scoutcest. Its my favorite OTP from all time

btw when I draw them I often feature my BLU scout oc (they are presented as different people then), but any interpretation of scoutcest is VERY welcome (MINUS THE INCEST ONE.)

Medic main, I SUCK at TF2 so the only class I can play really well is medic 🤑 and my mvm main is Heavy!

My favorite character is the scout, idk if I want to be him or be with him ☹️ (I am his n1 fan btw!!!)

I LOVE THE BLU TEAM!! (I have an army of BLU team ocs)

TAGS

My reblogs don't contain these tags below, so you can find my original content in them:

#cassoli comments -> text posting

#ask -> asks I recieved

#team fortress 2 -> all of my main art is here!

#oc art -> oc posting

#murder drones // #carrie // #off // #htf -> other fandoms art

#blu scout lore??!?1? -> my blu scout lore

I don't have an art tag

My sideblog is @holyraviolis

BLU Scout's askblog is @matt-blu

[spnrareshipbang]

“Every Relationship Has Its Stuff” - Wednesday, November 27

Author: autisticandroids (@autisticandroids)

Artist: arlingtonchamberofgay (@arlington-chamber-of-gay)

Beta(s):

Rating: Explicit

Featured characters: Jack Kline, Harper Sayles, Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Featured relationships: jack kline/harper sayles, background castiel/dean winchester

Length: 7k

Tags: coming of age, black comedy

Warnings: child abuse, violence

Summary: Jack sees a familiar face again, and sets about having some important teenage experiences.

Excerpt:

“Where am I?” His throat is thick with disuse. It’s as good a starter as any. Probably the most useful information he can find out, right now. Her eyes are very big.

“Oh, this is a shipping warehouse for a pastry company. I thought it would smell nicer.” She pouts a little.

“Yes,” Jack says, he can feel her hand, it’s slipped lower and his voice vibrates against it, “warehouses all just kind of smell the same.” His breathing hitches a little. “Or bad.” One time, Dean had him and Cas stake out outside a meat packing plant. He grimaces at the memory.

“Ugh, unfortunate,” Harper says, and rolls her eyes, flicking them up dramatically, and Jack strains his own trying to follow them, she’s so close, “I guess you can’t win ‘em all. So, did you ever get my letter?”

“What?” Her lips are slightly glossy. He can feel the movement of his own breath. “My letter. I sent it to Lebanon.” She stands to put her hands on her hips, and Jack feels the loss of warmth against his cheek.

“No, I mean- no. Sorry,” he says. Grasps for what she might want. “That’s sweet though. That you sent it.”

He’s right. She lights up.

“Thanks! I think letter writing is underappreciated these days, especially for love notes. I’m glad you’re someone who understands that.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, “Dean says old formats are always better. Like tapes, or vinyl. I think that includes letters.”

Harper nods.

“I like a lot of old fashioned things. Like dating! Nobody our age ever wants to go on a date anymore. They all just wanna use ‘apps’” - she makes the quote marks with her fingers - “to ‘hang out.’ It’s terrible. Do you like dating, Jack?”

“I’ve-” never gone on a date, he starts to say, but changes course when he remembers where he is, “I- yes! I like… going on dates.”

[bigfatbreak]

Birds of a Feather previous / next

[hinamie]

i'm exactly as normal about him as I thought I'd be

[chiricat]

ryomina demons are winning

[just-null]

Do you ever do requests? If so, do you ever plan on drawing some Yandere with the Hantengu clones? :D hope you have a good day/night!!!

Mentioning an unfamiliar name

yes!! I love yanderes.. and these guys.. these guys are such good material...... nods nods..

I'm not sure about requests..I assume you mean drawing requests? I suppose if it REALLY catches my interest enough, I'd do it, but it'd probably just be line art/sketches.

[ragingbullmode]

im seeing very little coverage (at least on here) about how moo dengs popularity on the internet is leading to her being harassed at the zoo as well as how the khao kheow open zoo has a history of multiple cases of animal abuse for sake of entertainment (tw for the last link specifically- its a video that begins with a few seconds of moo dengs image but shows a baby elephant being stabbed & swat with a stick by a keeper for ‘discipline’).

while im glad that moo deng IS bringing awareness & a new love for pigmy hippos (which have a dwindling suggested 2000-3000 number population in the wild), i think we should also take into account that not all zoos/animal sanctuaries take the best interests of the animals they are supposed to care for to heart- especially ones that put more of a focus on entertaining tourists than caring for their animals.

[ganondoodle]

got this reblog on one of my posts were i talked about being anxious about the future of the zelda series after totk and-

i even went back and unblocked them just to check my own post and check twice what they meant exactly- but i still dont know how they got to these conclusions

i never said i 'want a good uwu ganondorf' (bc that would mean hes aligned with hyrule bc thats how goodness works!!!!11!1!!!), i also dont think of any of the zeldas as 'whores' (seriously, where did that come from?? neither me nor the addition of someone agreeing with me said anything like that??? did they think bc the addition called tloz misogynistic means we think zelda is a whore????? huh???)

its also funny how they say they want zelda to stay a simple fairytale rather than have 'people like me' bc .. one point i talked about in the og post was how the evil arab thing VS good white people media likes to do so much is so normalized here that its simply seen as a simple harmless fairytale trope instead of a big underlying issue in general media and the writers might not even realize it (which is worse) bc the most 'generic' appeal is to people who dont think of it as a problem in the first place, because it is so normalized

(huh, i wonder about what kind of person that part was about .. hmmmm)

(ALSO funny they mention princess hilda as nuanced villain ... like ... wow they are so nuanced about purple haired people!!- like guess why we want a nuanced/less badly/less flat written ganondorf and what he, in particular, has not in common with other villains! its not his hair color! .... or was that point supposed to mean .. look we have one female character that is a villain, its not misogynistic! idk honestly)

(and the classic, "you just call it this/dont like it bc its not what you wanted !!!!!!!2!"1!112!!")

also funny how its 'never gonna be progressive enough' like asking for the franchise to maybe put a little more thought and nuance into their white divine right vs evil desert man simulator instead of making it worse is already asking too much

(i dont know what the last point has to do with anything??)

(also yes totk is racist, like most if not all of the franchise and a alot of other media as well, shocker- you can still like it though, i and plenty of other people are still fans of it, we just wish they did a little more with their stuff and maybe not make the racism problem WORSE)

(also yes the hyrule monarchy is also evil :))) )

(and also not so secretly so either :)) )

[dizzybizz]

some doodles

[b4kuch1n]

siren

[choccy-milky]

Hello! I'm not sure if you remember me but I DM'ed you one time and ask for some advice when it comes to drawing.. XD I just wanted to post this to show you how much I have improved, as well as a gift to say thank you for giving me the inspiration to practice drawing again!! I know I still have a lot to learn, but I will do my best to keep on practicing and maybe someday I can draw my MC along with yours :D

AW THIS IS SO CUTEE THANK YOU!!😭🥹🥹im so happy i could help you even a little bit with any advice, and also that i could inspire you to keep drawing!! your art is already super adorable so ik youll just keep getting better and better, and im hononured to see clora in your style...TYSM AGAIN!!🥹💖💖🙏

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."